The One About the Parenting Thing

Just because I'm difficult that way, I'm going to keep the whole Amy Chua, Tiger Moms thing going for one more day. To tell the whole truth, I actually do my writing the day before posting, so this topic is pretty fresh while I'm writing it, it may be redundant to you..

If you haven't already read the WSJ piece, you can read it here: 

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704111504576059713528698754.html

Go ahead, I'll wait....

There have been a number of pieces written about this. Google the topic and you should receive a plethora of opinions. Some grounded in fact, some in emotion. Almost all of them disagree with the idea that the Chinese or Asian style of parenting is somehow superior to western style. I'm not sure that I agree.

Many will cite the high rate of suicide among Asian Americans (women in particular). While it's certainly not something to ignore, it is quite possible that there are other factors that contribute to that number besides the pressure to excel and conform. WHO statistics still put the US rate of suicide considerably higher than any Asian country and I would think that the pressure to excel and conform is much higher in home countries where an entire family's very survival may depend on the earning capabilities of their children. 


The next thing that comes to my mind are the western "uber" moms along with their partners, the "sports" dads. Aren't they, in essence. doing the same thing? The articles on over scheduling and ten-year pre-school waiting lists, not to mention the numerous incidents of sports related fights and worse among PARENTS would indicate that these parents are viewing sports and education as anything but pressure free... I suppose that they might say that they're creating a "well-rounded" child, but are they??

The next thing that seems to bring about great furor is the name calling thing. This subject is the one that seems to get under people's skin the most. As parents, there are those moments, there are those days, when "my beloved child" is just not the correct description. Heck, we call our daughter TLC (the littlest communist) as a joke, but there are days when it fits her to a tee. I have looked at my child and told her to stop being a "brat". Does anyone out there really think that a four year old kid can differentiate between the verbs "being" and "acting"??? Have I damaged her already?? Puhleeze! If my, or any other child for that matter, is somehow "damaged" by the occasional rantings of a frustrated parent, they've got bigger problems than whatever name they're being called.

My favorite thought on this whole discussion is the education part. Asian children consistently outperform their western counterparts across the board in education. There's a dirty little rumor out there that many universities were, for a time, limiting enrollment of Asian students. Why? Because the Asian students were skewing the curve, making the US students and the schools they attended look less competent, thus, less attractive to alumni and prospective students alike. Unless someone can point me to a genetic difference in Asian students, I almost have to believe that there are distinct cultural and societal differences throughout an Asian childhood. That leaves the door wide open to debate the difference between Asian and Western philosophy in parenting, both at the nuclear and extended level.


Certainly no one has to agree entirely with Ms.Chua's thesis. But one would be a fool not to consider it....

The One That May Or May Not Be True

"Wait for meeeee......."

It's a cry heard often on playgrounds, in backyards, on streets, and in homes across the country and around the world. In any language, in any place, the cry is universal. As a matter of fact, you don't even need to speak the language to understand the meaning, you know the sound and you've felt the feeling yourself. Everyone has at one time or another. Everyone at one time or the other, has been the one uttering the plaintive wail.

"Wait for meeeee......"

As parents, we dread the day when our child is the child uttering the wail. We know it will happen, as sure as the sun will rise in the morning, our kid will be the kid left behind at least once in their lives. When it happens, we soothe the offended child. We tell them that they are worthwhile, we tell them that they are valuable, we tell them that we love them. We tell them that every person has value. We tell them that evey human being has something worthwhile within them. Once the wailing has subsided, we tell them to remember this feeling. We tell them to remember so that they won't make someone else feel as bad as they do right now.

"Wait for meeee......"

Inevitably, it will come to pass when our child will be the child who leaves someone behind. And our hearts hurts. Our hearts hurt not only for the child who has been left behind, but for our own child, the one who has done the leaving, because we never wanted them to be burdened with the guilt of hurting another, and we try to teach the lesson once again. We tell them to "bring enough for the whole class" and "how did you feel when that happened to you?". Perhaps we choose another route, perhaps we try and teach them about endurance. We say things like "just play one game with him/her, then you can be on your way." Maybe we go with bribery "if you stop that, I'll get you..." And we hope it doesn't happen again, but we know it will...

"Wait for meeeee...."

As our children age and travel through school and friends, we hear the wail from time to time. Whether it's our child doing the wailing or someone else's, it still hurts our hearts. We still hope that our child will be the child who "gets it". We hope our child is the child who will stand up.

"Wait for meeee...."

It's not so simple for our children, especially as they live their lives outside of our direct control, outside of our sphere of influence. Instead of our approval, they seek the approval of their friends. They seek the acceptance of the "crowd". They seek to be part of the pack. They fear the pack turning on them should they be the ones to stand up, should they be the one who hears the wail, who feels the wail.

"Wait for meeeee....."

We wonder when our children will feel their own power. We wonder when "pack" approval will no longer matter, we pray that that day comes sooner rather than later. Sadly, we know in our hearts that it will never come for some. We hope with all our might that the "some" is actually "some other kid". We hope that we are the example not the lesson. We continue to hope. As we listen the the explanations, the excuses, we continue to hope that our child won't be the child who is responsible for the wail.

"Wait for meeeee..."

For those who's child is the wailer we fervently hope that they discover their power as well. We hope that they learn how to stand up, we hope that they learn to shout....

"Don't wait for meeee..."

The One About Enforcer Bunny

This sweet looking critter is the "Enforcer Bunny" and he rules the Eggroll with an iron carrot....

During our trip to the Great Southwest, a friend of mine left the bunny on the doorstep. She called to tell me it was there and I brought it in and set it on the counter while Eggroll was napping.

It was one of those "throwdown" days, where every fifteen minutes Eggroll was having a fit over one thing or another. I forgot about the bunny on the counter, and later on that evening, she noticed it. She immediately declared it "Eggroll's Bunny". I was exhausted, and I'd had enough for the day. I told her she could have the bunny when she had a day with no "fits".

Bunny sat on the counter for two days. Each day she'd ask me about it and each day I told her she could have it when she went a day without a fit. On the third day, while I was putting her to bed, I asked her which one of her stuffed hippos she'd like to sleep with. She looked at me and began wagging her finger back and forth. And then, my child, who rarely speaks more than three words together, said "No fits today, I can have the bunny"..... She got the bunny and I laughed until the tears ran.

Since then, Bunny has become the enforcer. Fits can be quelled instantly with the threat of Bunny denial...

I love the bunny...

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The One About F*&k Me Fridays

Fridays around here blow. While most of America looks forward to Fridays eagerly, I dread the day. Friday is my Monday.

On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, the Eggroll attends a local program in the morning. She loves it there, and for the most part I love having her there. And then there are FRIDAYS.

My child is an extraordinary child in so many ways. She is bright, engaging, intelligent and beautiful. But, like many post-institutionalized kids, she bears some scars. The first involves food. After 10 months with us the "hoarding" that some kids display has not improved with the Eggroll, if anything it's gotten worse. She will literally eat herself to the point of illness if allowed. The second is initiation. While most three year olds will tell you what they want, get a toy down, or make requests spontaneously, my child will only do those things if forced to. We have a rule in our house, don't ask, don't get and it has worked fabulously for her..... as long as she's here...

Three mornings a week while at "play" her every whim is catered to. She does not have to speak to get what she wants, she doesn't have to use her table manners, she merely points, looks at the caretakers, or cries. And it works...every damn time.

Then we have the food thing. Seriously, the way they feed children is horrifying. More horrifying is the fact that they are following STATE mandates and guidelines for nutrition. Wednesday the children dined on a lunch of breaded chicken nuggets, rice pilaf, bread and butter, canned fruit, and milk. Yesterday, they were treated to a delightful meal of salsbury steak, mac&cheese, bread and butter, canned fruit and milk. Can we say carbohydrate overload?? And the portions?? OMG!

Now lest you think that I'm not mother of the year, know that I have looked into other programs, and they're all about the same. Unless I want to pay 15k to 20k a year for private pre-school, I'm pretty much stuck with what I've got.

But on to the subject of this post which is F*&k Me Friday. We begin our day with a 5:30am call from the Eggroll, who not only has to go potty, but has generally wet whatever she has on. A quick trip to the potty, a fast change of clothes and sheets, and back to bed she goes. Usually crying for two reasons. First she has wet herself and second, she would really like to get up. F*&k me!

Upon the second awakening, it's time to get dressed. More tears as she is denied the super special Elmo undies (those are a treat for when everything is dry). F*&k me! Then it's down the stairs to begin the day. She puts herself in the chair, which she has pulled away from the table and then sits down. Moments later there is crying because her chair is too far from the table. I will ask her what she needs and there is more crying...no words... F*&% me! After several minutes of prompting and cajoling she spits out a "help, push chair in please". Yea! Moving on.. Next comes an unprompted request for water. We're doing well here... and then....nothing! And I mean nothing...for what seems like hours at a time. There's pointing...there's naming of objects....but there's nothing else. I make breakfast and she names everything on my plate. Then she requests a toy, I ask her if it's time for that toy, she says it is... F*&k me! I have to honor her request. It's supposed to be good for her comprehension. More requests, all for different toys, each time she's asked if it's time for that toy, if it's time to play. Each time she answers yes, each time her request is honored. F*&k me! Breakfast falls by the wayside... tears ensue....

This will go on for hours, currently, I'm on my third hour at the kitchen table. My ass is numb, my work isn't done and my kid is staring vacantly out the window. She'll point, I'll ask "what is it?" she'll refuse to answer, I'll point out that she needs to answer, she'll cry... it will continue this way until naptime. F*&k me!

She knows how to do all of this. She knows the names of so many things, she knows how to request, she knows how to initiate...until Friday...on Friday she is clueless. On Friday she waits for someone to read her mind. This afternoon will be slightly easier and tomorrow will be easier still. By Sunday we'll be back to routine, Monday we'll enjoy it and Tuesday...well Tuesday is the first step on the path to F*&k Me Friday.

I can't help but wonder if it's worth it. I know that she needs the socialization that those 3 morning provide, but I can't help but wonder. I lose a whole morning with my child just waiting for her to do what she's capable of. I spend the rest of my time as disciplinarian, correcting that which was allowed during those three days. (Seriously, hands IN the food???) And I spend a lot of time dealing with the fabulous mood swings that a good kiddie carb crash brings on. And I wonder if it's worth it...

I'm disheartened by what I see in our kids educational system. Rather than lifting children up, the system seeks to bring them all down to the same level. For example...normally, my kid has impeccable table manners. She actually came to us that way. But she's not praised for that, other children are not encouraged to be like her, it's perfectly fine if her and their skills suffer. Same thing with speech. I'm sure there are other children who speak much better than she does, but it's just fine if she never improves. The herd mentality wins every time. Sad but true...

I'm disheartened by what I see our kids eating. I'm not against some good mac and cheese, but could we balance that with something that's green perhaps? Instead of having kids name all the food groups, might we actually feed them something from all of those groups?? I have to laugh when I hear parents complain about potty training, bed-wetting, behavior problems and the rest...especially when they're handing their kids a juice box to wash down their nuggets and fries with?? Anyone see the connection? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

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The One About How I Am HUGE in China

I never finished the China posts... So in my quest to organize my life, you will find, from time to time disjointed posts about random stuff that I forgot to finish. Or maybe I didn't forget, maybe I've been meaning to but life got in the way.

Once we landed in Beijing, I was convinced I had entered the 7th circle of Hell. I had been awake for more than 24 hours, sick with the whoopsies for the 12 hours before that, and I had just arrived to 106 degrees with 98% humidity. The only thing that I could think about was a bed and some air-conditioning.... I would get the bed...I would miss the air-conditioning... The one thing that kept running through my head was "death is not an option".


Blessedly, our delayed flight got us into Beijing in the evening, rather than early afternoon, so the whole jet lag thing was solved in pretty short order. We boarded a bus for the trip to our hotel. We arrived at the hotel, checked in, and immediately went to our room. After boiling some water for tooth brushing, and taking our injections, we crawled into the kind of small bed and crashed. We slept fitfully throughout the night, restless to begin with, and the swamp cooler blowing cool but wet air at us didn't help...at least it didn't help me....


A word here about Himself. I seemed to have scored myself the most "durable" fellow around. I call him "Gentle Ben" from time to time...he's the size of a large bear and about as furry. Folks look at him and wonder if size really does matter... it doesn't. He is uneffected by climate, can sleep soundly at the drop of a hat, and will travel miles on foot without so much as a blister. You can load him down with packages, walk him fifteen miles in the blistering sun and he won't issue a single complaint. As a matter of fact, he'll help little old ladies across the street and carry their packages at the same time. I have yet to run across one thing that he won't try, and he's always "up" for the next adventure. It's amazing and humbling at the same time.


And then there's me... the "bitcher". Totally climate sensitive. The planets must align correctly for me to sleep well and I must have the proper equipment to travel miles on foot. I will pass out in the heat and my hands and legs will seize in the cold. And I will tell anyone who'll listen. I will tell them a lot...like every five minutes. Oooh yeah, and I'll cry too. Purely out of frustration, but I will cry. And as for that little old lady??? Man up Sally....carry your own shit. I'm up for the next adventure, and I'll enjoy it, but I'll bitch and moan the whole way. Travel with us my friends, and you will discover the meaning of "polar opposites".


The following morning, Himself wandered about, gathering water and cigarettes while I tried to regain a wee bit of my dignity. One of the few things that Himself and I have in common is the fact that we're both early risers. Especially when traveling. By the time most folks get out of bed, we've been up for hours, wandered about, perhaps already had breakfast. I say perhaps because we're usually up before the kitchen is even open...unless we're near a truck stop... or a Denny's. The group was scheduled to do some touring, so I prepared myself accordingly...


A word about me. I am not a conventionally attractive woman. Many people use the term "striking" when describing me and I choose to believe that they mean it in a good way. I stand over six feet tall, and I am not model thin. I have a real body with some junk in the trunk and hands and feet that are proportionate for my size. I'm not obese, but I'll never be mistaken for skinny. That being said, I realized early on in my life that I was never going to look like everyone else, so I don't try. I actually do the opposite. I'm very graphic, choosing to emphasize my differences rather than try to disguise them. As an example, after Momma died, the hair at my temples went totally gray. My solution? I had my stylist bleach out large chunks of my red hair. So, I sport some Lily Munster stripes. Totally white. Totally obvious.... Here at home, people look and occasionally comment and even when we were in Europe, I'd get some "looks" from time to time, but nothing...absolutely nothing... prepared me for China...

Later that morning, the group boarded a tour bus ( I love tour buses...they have real air-conditioning) and headed for the Great Wall. Despite the heat and humidity, Himself and I decided that the once in a lifetime opportunity far outweighed the uncomfortable and we headed off to "walk the wall". I made it to the first battlement. (probably a little over a mile) Between the heat, the pollution, and the general malaise from traveling, I felt somewhat woozy. I chose to stay in the battlement, while Himself continued on to the end of the section (where there was a roller coaster?!?). I settled in, arranging myself and rearranging myself whenever there was a breeze. After a few minutes a little boy ran up to me and grabbed me around the leg. I smiled and patted his head, he darted off and returned a few moments later with his entire family. They wanted to take a picture with me. Ummm... okay... then there was another family, and another, and another... By the time Himself returned I had taken pictures with no less than 25 families. I joked that I should have charged a few yuan per photo, and maybe I could have paid for the trip. I reasoned that the Great Wall is a destination for all Chinese. Many of these folks had probably never seen a Caucasian, much less a Caucasian that looked like me. I figured that they'd be interested in Himself as well, him being a man of size and all....they weren't... nor were they interested in anyone else in our group. I thought it was odd, but I also thought it was important to be gracious. We joked about it with our group (who I really think thought we were lying) and wrote it off.


The next day, we visited Tienemen Square and it happened again. This time it happened in front of everyone and it made it difficult to navigate the Square. It happened at the Summer Palace, in restaurants, on the street, everywhere... Anywhere we went, if people weren't outright asking for photos, they were surreptitiously snapping away with their cell phones. The click and whirrr sound followed us everywhere. It was amusing for the first few days, then it became downright annoying, and after that, it made both Himself and I positively homicidal. The culture in China is such that in their society it's perfectly acceptable to behave this way, it's perfectly acceptable to say things out loud and in front of someone that we in Western culture would never consider.


So should you receive a postcard from a Chinese friend, or open a Chinese book or magazine and they contain pictures of a large white woman with striped hair.... well.... it's me.... and I'm HUGE in China!!

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The One About The "Story"

One of my favorite websites is www.salsainchina.blogspot.com. M3 has done a wonderful job of chronicling their adoption journey and their daily life. I check in almost daily, although I've just de-lurked recently. Her current topic is talking to your children about adoption. Any surprise here that I find myself on the "other side of the fence"?

The current trend is to tell your children all about their adoption. I'm not sure I agree. As a matter of fact, I know I don't.....

For starters, it should be mentioned that I am an adult adoptee of an adoptee. Yes, that's right folks, I'm a third generation adopter. My view is different. I'm also a good ten to fifteen years older than most of the folks with children the Eggroll's age. That makes the view a bit different as well.

I am pretty much stunned that folks are choosing to burden their (young) children with the past. Pouring over life-books, telling the "story" over and over...really?!? Ooo and the ones that try and explain the "one-child" thing to a small child? They flat-out scare me.

Kids need to know that they're adopted. But they need to know within the context of RIGHT NOW, not yesterday. They need to know that all families are different, and every family comes to be a family a different way. They need to know that they belong with OUR family, that they are wanted by the family that they have RIGHT NOW and that nothing is ever, ever, going to change that.

I've never agreed with the families that choose to emphasize the differences. There's a whole group of families out there that celebrate all things Chinese. Because their children are Chinese... but how many of these families are celebrating all things from their own heritage as well? How many of these families are actually celebrating and reveling in ALL of the cultures that make up their family? My best guess is, not many....

So, there are families out there trying to be "honest" with their children. And I think that's a good thing.. but when the "honesty" becomes consuming, when the "story" of the past takes precedent over the "story" of the present...that's a problem..

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The One About Being Punished for Playing By The Rules


Yet another unfinished post sitting in draft

I've never been particularly shy. Most folks that know me will tell you that the previous sentence is an understatement. And I've never been particularly PC. Also an understatement. If you're one of those easily offended types, move on now... I'm not interested in intentionally offending everyone..

The "Octomom" is the topic of much conversation as of late. 14 children, all through IVF, all under the age of 7, all, in one form or another, on the dole. I can't even begin to express how nauseous the entire situation makes me. Every one of these children should be taken from this woman, her parental rights need to be terminated immediately and ideally, she should be jailed. Yes, that's right, I said take her kids and slap her ass in jail. Never mind the idiot doctor that did the procedures in the first place. Fertility treatments are a for profit business. The medical moron did the job he was paid to do.

It infuriates me that there are folks out there who scrimp and save, pinch and plan, just to be able to have a single child. And then you have Nadya...the woman who not only brought into the world 6 children she couldn't possibly afford, but then 8 more?? Who in the world has the ability to care for 14 children? By themselves??

This is not a family like the Duggars (who, BTW, I think are plain old bat-shit crazy) Their 18 kids are spread out over the course of 15 years or so, and, they are totally self-sufficient. They made their choices, lived by their decisions and rely on no one but themselves. I think it's crazy, but I can't argue with it.

Speaking of decisions... I'm going for the totally inappropriate here... but I'm going for the gorilla in the room.... Whenever I see one of these litter dropping women, they answer the whole selective reduction question with the same basic answer "it's God's will that I have these kids". Really?? What about the not getting pregnant in the first place thing?? Wasn't that God's will too?? Oh wait, the medical technology thing solved that problem for you and that was alright?? Just what to you apply God's will to anyway?? Is it everything, just some stuff, what you want....where's the line?? I know I'm a lapsed Catholic and everything, but I'm thinking that there might be a flaw in your whole interpretation thing.

So, the litter arrives and suddenly these women are cause celebre. Now we subjected to the "Madonna" moms... you know the ones, they're holy, they're pious, they're totally devoted to their children... and they're expecting rewards. At the very least they want applause... and the rest, well the rest they claim is just people being kind.

The One About Family and Frustration

Ahhhh, the holidaze....They're approaching rapidly aren't they? Every year around here, the holidaze bring about a multitude of problems. Some are solvable, some, not so much. Almost all of them revolve around family.

For those of you that know me, you're probably aware that I have a pretty shitty family. With the exception of Flipper, the rest of them pretty much suck. Hard.

Over the years the tension within the family grew and flourished. If I told you most of it was over money, would you be surprised? It's long and complicated but suffice it to say it revolves around the fact that although Flipper has been with me since I was nine years old, I'm not "legitimate" in their eyes. And now it's passing through to the next generation. And that's just one side of the "family"

On the other side? Well, let's just say that they'll show up, they'll take interest you when you write a check, other than that? Not so much.

Himself's family? Pretty much non-existent. His older sister is wrapped up in her religion and her own family. His younger sister?? Well let's just say that "teh crazy" really is a sexually transmitted disease... We never hear from them. Perhaps they too, feel that we're not a "legitimate" family...I'm an "other" wife, so maybe that's where their primary problem lies. (BTW, I don't remember actually doing anything to offend them. I'm from the camp that says I can't fix it if you don't tell me what "it" is)

Moving on.....

The Holidaze involve dealing with my family, both side A (Flipper's) and side B (mine). First we'll deal with side A. The A side will be here for Thanksgiving. I do this every year because it makes Flipper happy. Even though at some level he realizes that his family sucks, they are still his family and in some peculiar way, it makes him happy to have them here. It causes a load of stress that can only be tolerated with controlled outbursts of rage and OCD. Some of the "things" that have been said and or done over the years?

"Arrogant" tells me that I must be gone from my family home so that he and his girlfriend can romp in the Jacuzzi. I protest..he tells me that "it doesn't matter what you think, all this will be mine anyway when Flipper dies" He never saw the shovel coming....he refused medical treatment....

"Disturbed" asks me to stand up in her wedding. I agree (it makes Flipper happy) It costs me more than $500.00 to do so. The wedding is out of town. I'm housed away from the rest of the wedding party. I'm uninvited to the wedding party festivities, I drive myself to and from the church and reception.

"Piggy" tells me that "Your husband won't be excited over your adoption, he's had "real" children"

I asked "Disturbed" to do a reading at Momma's funeral. (in fairness, she was my very last choice) She accepts and then assaults me with the statement "We never got to know Flipper because your mother was such a bitch"

These are but a few examples of what has transpired over the years. The hardest part for me is to put on the "happy face". I want to be a good person, I really do. I want Flipper to have everything that makes him happy for as long as he's on this Earth. But I also want peace in my own home. I want peace for my daughter and husband. I want home to be a safe place, and letting these people in my home risks safety. One never knows what they may say or do... the anticipation of disaster causes unbelievable amounts of stress.

My counter for all of this... is that everything must be "perfect"... and my "perfect" is generally over and above everyone else's perfect... Anyone seeing my problem here??

Most days I can give up life's difficulties to the universe and move on... Holidaze? I give them up to the OCD monster and anger...and I don't know how to make it stop while making everyone happy at the same time......

Le Sigh.....

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The One That Can't Wait Until Father's Day

One of my favorite guilty, chick flick pleasures is a movie called "Where The Heart Is". There is a line in the film that I hear in my head from time to time. "You tell them that our lives can change with every breath we take.." And it's true. That's why I need to do this now....

The picture above is Flipper and the Eggroll. They look like this together ALL THE TIME. And I can't put into words how happy that makes me. They have a love affair happening that every grandparent/grandchild should have. I don't have the words to express how full it makes my heart, and how content it makes my soul.

I wished this for both of them. When we lost Momma almost three years ago now, I worried for Flipper. He's a loner by nature, and not the most demonstrative fellow in the world. He's what we refer to as a "doer" not a "talker" and for almost 30 years, Momma did the talking for him. When she left us, I worried that he would retreat into his shell and miss so many of the simple joys that life had to offer.

I worried for Eggroll. Momma left us as the order for Eggroll was being placed, and I worried that this kid would never know the joy of being someone's grandchild.

I worried for nothing.

I hope and I pray (yes, the heathen does pray) that wherever Momma is, she can see and feel the joy that Flipper and Eggroll share. I hope that Flipper and the Eggroll both know how very very grateful I am for both of them, and the relationship they have. It is everything I could have wished for.....





Admiring the "Dancing Chickens"..

She would break out the random dance moves when she heard the banjo music. He danced with her and then smugly told me "She likes country music, she'll have taste!"

She already has taste Flipper, she chose to love you.....

P.S. It took over an hour to get this written, I have trouble typing through tears...


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The One Sponsored By The Letter "P"

Some recent items filed under the letter "P".....

Picnic--- We attended the picnic event for the agency we hate. Himself and I both felt that it would be good for the Eggroll. That, and we were curious about the whole event anyway. The verdict? Something between plain and pitiful. Since there was no actual fee, I didn't feel all that bad, but I will say that I donated the same amount to this years block party and we certainly ate better and had more fun. I understand that they use it as a fundraiser, but really, folks are more apt to dig in their pockets if they're distracted and/or drunk.....I'm just saying....

Politeness---Two encounters at the aforementioned event really pissed me off. The first was the encounter with the resident Looneytune of my travel group. Once again she found it absolutely necessary to NOT ADDRESS ME AT ALL. For heaven's sake Looney, were you raised by wolves? One of the first things evolved people are taught and teach their children is to be kind and polite to EVERYONE. It's a shame that your hubby's such a nice guy...it keeps me from calling your ignorance out on the spot....because...that wouldn't be POLITE. I was however, pleased to see that your daughter had shoes on. Oh yeah, if you cannot be polite, please stay the hell away from my Eggroll. I'm at a loss as to how to explain to a child why the crazy lady keeps taking her picture while not speaking to her mother at all.....oh yeah, and that slip about me being in the shot WITH MY OWN KID?? I heard you.. and there's currently no way I can explain that ignorance.
The next encounter involved a lady who brought home a toddler in March. Her daughter is talking up a storm, the Eggroll mimics whatever you say, but she does not initiate...at all....even when in obvious distress. So I asked, "did you encounter this with your daughter?" The Eggroll is a puzzle to the professionals and I was curious to see if anyone else might have encountered this particular behavior. Blonde snotty lady informed me that it was a behavior learned in the orphanage since they were neglected anyway. I replied that Himself and I believed that the Eggroll experienced exactly the opposite. Since the orphanage that Eggroll came from was very small, we feel that she wasn't neglected, she never had to ask for a thing. Blonde snotty lady informed me that while it was nice to think that, I was certainly wrong, all orphanages neglect their children. Ummm, Snotty Lady.... I didn't ask for your opinion on all orphanages....and.... my kid is the very first child to be adopted from her province by our agency....sure you want to do the condescending ass thing? You very well could be right, but you very well could be wrong...it is condisidered POLITE to acknowledge that....

Politics---- Currently both my eyes and my ears are hemorraghing from the current campaign bullshit.

Projects--- Yes, I'm overrun by projects. I hate the spring and the fall for this very reason. Something about living in the Midwest... the to do list get exponentially longer twice a year.

Pictures--- the best part of the post...can't be posted until I "anonomize" them....

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The One Where I Toss P.C. Aside (again)

Well, then, here we are, together again. And yes, I'm still composing the China posts, but today I thought I'd chat about the latest adventures in the House of Nyt. It's been several weeks of the krazee around here, but we've managed to have a little bit of fun as well.


First off, Himself's other eye turned out to be defective. We discovered this while at a consultation on repairing the first defective eye that was repaired (sort of correctly) in March. Three doctors, two hospitals, and roughly eight hours later we had a fourth doctor and an appointment for the next day. Ever try to amuse a 2 and 1/2 year old with nothing more than a dress-up monkey and a pair of shiny shoes? Yeah, I rock. Actually, the Eggroll rocks, she really sailed through that day with nary a problem. Over the next 7 days, we travelled to the doc's office 5 times, for gas bubbles and check-ups. We survived the worst of it (himself is a LOUSY patient) and hopefully this coming Monday will be the last of the appointments for a while.

Now for one of the politically incorrect portions of the program. Why the hell are all the good doctors in areas of this city where the poorest folks are? Can someone please explain to me why I must ( yes, must) travel a minimum of 30 miles one way to see a teaching doctor in any specialty? Why are there no quality doctors here? We live in a middle to upper class suburb, we pay exorbitant taxes, and yet our community hospital is good for nothing more than stitches. And why are all the liberal blow hards whining about health care? I walked the halls of these hospitals, I sat it waiting rooms, and I can pretty much guarantee that we were the only folks there who weren't on Medicare or Medicaid. What gives? And why are so many doctors saying they can't make any money?? Hello!! Life is simple fellas, go where the money is.....

More incorrectness....the Eggroll is fascinated with people of color. I can't fault her for it, she's probably never seen them before she came to this country. She's only been here a couple of months folks.... Anywhooo... standing outside one of the jillion hospitals I visited, I struck up a conversation with an older lady who had a small child with her. The Eggroll kept poking at the small child, and I couldn't figure out why. Then, the following week at pre-school (she's enrolled in a pretty diverse place), she tried to wash the black off the teacher. Now, actually, to me, that's pretty damn funny. She's tried to wash the scar off my hand innumerable times. However, other folks don't find it so funny and I'm stuck explaining that she's only been here several months and has never really seen people of color before. It annoys me that people just can't take any action for what it is. It must mean something else. Or that everything must be explained... Like the lady we walked past who Eggroll was staring at, and the woman felt it necessary not to say hello, but to announce to my 2 and 1/2 year old "I'm African American" literally, no greeting, nothing. Seriously? And what's with that anyway.... is it a nationality, is it a race, what?? Is everyone of color African American, or are they Kenyan African American? or Ghanaian African American? What's up with that?? Why does it matter? I don't saunter up to every person who's different from me and announce that I'm Nyt and I'm Caucasian Irish American and this is my husband Himself, who is Caucasian German American, and this is our Eggroll whose Asian Chinese American......although, maybe I should....

We did manage to have a lovely day at the zoo during all this hoopla. You've just got to love the zoo in the middle of the week. Not crowded at all..

I love a good merry-go round. I'm glad she does too.....Props to Himself for making this shot work. He never uses my camera and of course, he's rocking the busted eye. I told him to hold the camera up and hold the button down. LOL! And wouldn't you know, he got a shot worth keeping....


Butterflies with Himself.

And then, there was the Sandwich Fair. The last fair of the season. We really had a good time. I'm not a big "country" girl...something about nature getting all over my shoes, but it really is fun to see all the tractors and animals. The Eggroll had a blast as well. I was so excited that she decided that the backpack was a good thing. (we toted that damn thing all over China and she HATED it) She hung out in it whenever there wasn't something that she wanted to see, it really is sooooo much easier in crowds. Himself wore it for a while and then it was my turn for the rest of the night. It didn't feel like much when I was wearing it but OMG! the next day my legs hurt, my abs hurt.. I must be in really bad shape, I have purses heavier than that. I guess because it forces you to stand aligned... you get a bit more exercise than what you think...
One thing I did notice, traipsing around in the wilds of farm town. People have some pretty strong feelings about blended families. And often times, it's written all over their faces. Some were happy, but there were some that had disapproval written all over them. No one said anything, as X and I (we went with our friends X and Y) were walking one particular path, I asked her.... do you feel it... she did... That's precisely when the Eggroll threw her hands up in the air and yelled "Ta Daa". It really doesn't get any better than that.....


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The One Where I Try And Explain Where The Hell I've Been

Tap tap.....this thing on?? Can you guys in back hear me?? Good........

So, where the hell have I been? Halfway around the world and back. Upside down, inside out and right side up again.

I'll start at the beginning. After almost three years, mountains of paperwork, and enough cash to purchase a new Lexus, Himself and I finally set off to pick up our daughter from China. Now, being that this adventure involves us, you've got to know that our adventures are never run of the mill. If there is a perfect storm, he and I will be in the middle of it. We always come out the other side better for the experience, but we never seem to avoid the rain.

Take our departure for example. Since the flight to Beijing is roughly 14 hours long, and since we both are slightly larger than Barbie and Ken, we decided to purchase a third seat for our flying comfort. Should be a simple task no? Since we were bringing our daughter home, we figured we would have an empty seat flying to and a seat full of child on the return. How silly we are! You may not split that ticket Mr. and Mrs. Nyt. You must purchase seat number three at full price, and then, you have the privilege of purchasing a one way ticket for your daughter at a somewhat discounted price. Oh yes, and by the way, the luggage restrictions are per person, so you will not be entitled to any extra luggage weight for the empty seat. That will be $6700.00 please. For that low, low, price we (the airline) will also leave 6 hours late....feel free to sleep in, but if you miss your flight, we will charge you to change all 3 of your tickets....

Now the funny thing is, I had been up the entire night before we left. I actually had intended to stay up ( it's the way I do jet-lag) What I had not intended was staying up all night puking my guts out. Yes, I'll admit it. When stress gets to me, I get the whoopsies. Once I whoopsie, I continue to whoopsie. Once the whoopsies slow down, any cough or sneeze will start them up again. (laughing will as well). So, when morning arrived, I had nothing in my stomach, I couldn't eat anything for fear of triggering another whoopsie bout, and I (we) had to take our injections (DVT preventitives) before we left the house. Did I mention that I had quit smoking the day before? Yeah... but that didn't add to the stress at all... Oh yeah, then I got to spend six hours hanging around the airport when I only live an hour away. It actually worked out for Himself. My whoopsie all-nighter cost me my voice. At least he couldn't hear me bitch and moan.

BTW, the Nytshde Stops Smoking Experiment of 2008??? FAIL!!

The flight itself was uneventful. Long, but uneventful. I will admit to wanting to poke my husband with something sharp several times, I'm horribly jealous that he can sleep on command.

We arrived in Beijing to some of the most oppressive heat and humidity I have felt in my life. I believe that I announced that we had now arrived in the 7th circle of Hell. Two weeks in country would not change my mind......

The One Where The Cards Hit The Table

I thought that this post would come later. I really thought that all of this wouldn't boil over until our journey was complete. I was wrong. Suffice it to say that I have reached the point where it's not good for me, or anyone around me, to hold it in any longer. The universe has spoken, so now I will too...Buckle your seat belts, keep your arms and legs inside the ride, and please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop...

Way back when, Himself and I decided to complete our family. Our path first led up to adoption, and then on to international adoption. We attended seminars from different agencies, did the research and talked to people who had already adopted. We did everything we knew how to in order to make an informed decision. We tried our hardest to find the perfect "fit". Ultimately, we chose our agency based on their "seminar" and several personal recommendations. The agency we chose, was, at that time, at the top of the local price range. We ignored the financial end of it, and decided that we needed to "extra, personalized" help that they offered. We were clueless to the mechanics of international adoption. This was in the spring of 2005.

By mid summer, the agency phoned us with the news that prices were due to go up, and if we wanted the lower price, we needed to commit then. Never ones to turn down a bargain, we committed. We were going to anyway, the news just served as the little push we needed. We attended another seminar, with other prospective families, and learned about the intricacies of paperwork. At the close of the seminar we were given a Xeroxed list of all the documents we needed to obtain and forms we needed to submit.

Our "paper chase" covered three states, two marriages and one divorce and at least two federal entities. In between filling out forms and waiting for documents to be returned, we were personality tested, inspected, and the like. We started in August of 2005 and by November, we were inches away from being complete. Throughout all of the paperwork, we never heard from our agency. The only contact we had was during our home study and our personality testing. The advertised "step by step" assistance was nowhere to be found. Late in November, himself called with a question. His call was returned immediately, and during the answer portion of the call, he was told that there was only one more dossier group that was going to be sent out for the year and if we wanted to be a part of it, we needed to get our documentation in ASAP.

So we pushed the last portion of the paperwork. I took time from work, we paid extra fees to expedite stamps and approvals. We met with our agency's "paperwork queen" and had our contents checked. We were given a short list of paperwork that we still needed to attend to, and then the "passport" incident occurred. I had kept my maiden name for quite a while after we were married, and my passport needed to be in my married name for the dossier. I spent a day and extra money to get my passport re-issued in a hurry. "Paperwork Queen" flipped through the newly issued passport, and tossed it at me. "This is no good" she declared. I excused myself and went to the washroom. It was the best choice, my only other choice was to slap her. Turns out, the passport was perfectly good, I just hadn't signed the last page.....

Two days before the deadline, I made my way to the agency to turn in all my paperwork. I had an accordion file filled with at least four copies of every piece of paperwork we needed. I handed the entire file to the Paperwork Queen and told her to take whatever she needed. She went through each section pulling copies as she went. When she handed me back the file I asked her if she had everything she needed. She said she did, and I went on my merry way. Later that evening she called to say that she did not have everything that she needed. She was one document short, and if we wanted to make the deadline, we had a fifteen minute window the following morning, to get her the document. We checked the accordion file, the document was there and Himself made the fifteen minute window. Annoyed, but unconcerned we resumed everyday life and waited for the letter that would give us our log in date. When the letter arrived we were astounded to see that our log in date was for 2006 and not 2005. Even though we had made the "deadline" our dossier was not sent with the others, it was held for two weeks. The real cost of this? 4 months of wait time and close to $1000.00. We never received an explanation or an apology. The stage was set for what has ultimately become a wary and contentious relationship.

Time passed. A lot of time. During 2006, we heard nothing from our agency. There were sporadic updates on their website. Updates that encouraged us to be patient, not to talk amongst ourselves, to give no credibility to rumors or opinions from anyone other than them, to pray. In the beginning, when the snail mail would bring us envelopes with the agency's logo on them, we would tear into them eagerly. They never contained anything other than solicitations for donations. We stopped tearing into them and started laughing when they arrived.
In the beginning, we were told that they would keep track of all the important dates for us. Some of the documentation has/had expiration dates. We would go through our paperwork sporadically, checking the dates ourselves. We weren't concerned, after all, our agency would let us know when/if we had to renew something. Ultimately, we came within two weeks of an important document expiring with no warning from our agency. We handled it ourselves and accepted the fact that we were on our own. Very recently, one of our federal documents was due to expire. We quickly renewed it, paying over one hundred dollars to do so. Only afterwards, did we find out that that fee could've been waived. And no, it wasn't our agency that told us.

If any of you have read the last few posts, you already know that the issues continue. You already know that our translation has come in incorrectly not once, but twice. You already know that our personal friend has done most of the translation "unofficially". The most recent? Reminding our agency that we will need an addendum to our home study due to the age of our child at referral time.
The current "wildest" issue? Our daughter was referred to us from a province that our agency has never dealt with before. It appears that we had all of the Institute and contact information before they did.....

As the final leg of this journey approaches, the families involved are coming together. Past and present, these families are sharing information and supporting one another. The saddest part of all of this is that our story is not unique. Other families have had "issues", other families have had their journey marred by the practices of an agency they turned to for guidance and help. Most of them are quiet and polite, some are afraid to articulate their woes, but so many have had their joy tempered. It shouldn't be that way....

For those of us, past and present, the journey is an onerous one. We plod through, we adjust our lives, we adjust our thinking. We wait patiently for a word, a sign, anything, to let us know that we are on the right path, that we are not alone. It reminds me of being a kid, and graduating from the kiddie rides to the big roller coaster. You knew you could ride alone, but it ride was much less frightening when you had someone to grab onto. Most of us were promised a hand to hold, most of us paid for a nanny (agency) to hold our hand. Many of us were bitterly disappointed.

My agency plays their cards close to the vest. They appear to resent anyone or anything that may give their clients more information than they are willing to release. Their attention seems to focus when the checkbook appears and becomes cloudy as soon as the check clears. They control information and opinions fiercely.

Cards on the table.... you are breeding a culture of mistrust and suspicion and resentment. You're clients are going to get the information, whether you want them to or not. They are going to form their own opinions whether you want them to or not. They are going to share that information and those opinions whether you want them to or not. You're holding my hand now though, not because I need to you, but because you need to. See, my process is holding up your process so now, my every thought is important to you.

I'll let you in on a little secret. I lost my sh*t last night. Literally lost it. The aftermath involves a repairman and some replacement purchases. Thank you agency o' mine for the push. After a loss of impulse control and a cocktail I feel much better this morning. Another secret, I'm polite because I have to be, I'm cooperative because I have to be.

Know this agency o'mine, I may have slapped the cards on the table, but I'm not the one holding aces and eights......

The One Where I Trade Frustration for Exhaustion

The process is sucking the zoom-zoom right out of me. My current issue, the translation.....You know, the one that every family waits for? Yeah, that one. Ours was supposed to be available Monday. Our agency chose to use a translation service out of Georgia and this past week-end, the Southeast suffered though some pretty heavy weather. No power means no translation. I needed the translation to be able to keep an appointment with a University Adoption Clinic. Clinic is held once a week, and if I miss this one, I'll have to wait until next week. And so will all the other waiting families. Himself and I have refused to sign an acceptance until we get an opinion from a doctor. Monday, we left the social worker's office with some photos, and the a copy of the original Chinese referral. I'm thinking that the doc doesn't read Chinese.....assurances were given that the translation would arrive in my inbox the following morning.

As if.......

Rather than being able to take care of the regular "business" of life, I spent the morning hitting refresh on my inbox every few minutes. By eleven I had to get dressed in my grown-up clothes for a noon meeting with some financial advisors. Just as I was stepping into the shower, a phone call from the social worker....the translation will not arrive until later in the afternoon. I'm not surprised by the delay, but I am surprised that forty minutes have gone by. Ten of those minutes were devoted to me asking the questions that I needed to and relaying my displeasure with the whole "our translator is official" thing. (we could have had an un-official translation done by a friend of ours over a week ago) The other thirty minutes were devoted to her pouring on her sugary platitudes. Gah!

I hang up with her and immediately call the financial guy. Crap! Voice mail. I leave a message that I'm running fifteen minutes behind. I throw myself into the shower, slap on some make-up and clothes, stuff the spinning dog into the kitchen (please Lord, let his bladder be relatively empty) and jump in the car. The car, is the equivelent of a rolling garbage dump. Complete with copious amounts of bird poop. We've been tending to spring chores on the outside of the house, so we've used both the Nytmobile and Vanbo to carry around all different kinds of ourdoorsy stuff, and since there is currently numerous yards of mulch residing in the middle of my driveway, whoever gets home first gets the garage, the other party is forced onto the street with it's many wildlife laced trees. Obviously I was refreshing my inbox when I should have been at the car wash....

Halfway to my destination, finance guy calls, he hasn't checked his voice mail and is itchy for me to arrive...grrrr...I'll be there in five minutes. I breeze in to finance guy's office, meet him (we've only spoken on the phone) and his partner (I didn't know he was working with one). I know the partner, he was a regular at a bar that I worked at, and on top of that he's friends with the one owner of that bar that I can't stand. Sh*t! Now on top of being late, frustrated, and flustered, I have to watch my P's and Q's as well!?! Crap! I hate this small world thingy!

In the middle of the pitch (errr...meeting) syrupy social worker calls to inform me that the translation is now in my inbox. I inform her that I am nowhere near my inbox, that I'm in a meeting and I will check my inbox as soon as I
get home. "That's alright" she coos. "I just wanted to let you know it was there and let you know that your child has a small, but very common malformation but not to get upset". Splendid! Thanks for the warning. I'll look at it when I get home. The meeting continues, finance guy makes the play for the stuff I clearly told him was not up for discussion, partner smooths it over, and I leave them with the understanding that I will get in touch with them in the next few weeks.

A quick stop for some food (was I supposed to eat? Seriously, I don't remember) and a pick-up from Walgreens (I was three hours late for that) and I'm home checking the inbox.

Now there is a story here (isn't there always?) From the photos we received, it appears that our child was prepped for adoption to another family in September of 2006. For whatever reason, that adoption never took place. As I'm reading the translation, I notice that we have two sets of bloodwork, with different results but the same dates. Truth, fiction, or simple error? Um, yeah, the dates are 2006. Entire sections were marked as "illegible" by the translator, but characters are clearly visible on the Chinese copy. At least one section of the translation still contains the Chinese characters, but with no English translation. The only developmental report is from 2006.

Seriously?!?

Back to the phone and the syrupy social worker. "It's probably just a mistake, I can't read Chinese, but I'm sure that everything is just fine." Followed by the one that almost pushed me to a loss of impulse control, "Well, I'm sure that your friend can clear up any discrepancies with the translation". After a deep breath, I voiced my concern about having a developmental report that is over a year and a half old. "Well, certainly we can ask, but it may not be happen, I can ask our Chinese contact to look into it, but....." That tears it folks, Miss Nyt has reached critical mass. I sweetly informed the syrupy social worker that if her Chinese contact couldn't get to it, mine could. And that I have all of the information that I need to reach the Welfare Institute, and the Director of the Institute and that our friend's wife (Chinese) is an attorney who spent a portion of her career finalizing adoptions on the U.S. side. I'm pretty certain I can tend to the matter myself. The panic from her was palpable. She informed me that the CCAA gives agencies a hard time when families go outside the boundaries. I acknowledged her concerns, but in my head the only thing I could think was "tough sh*t". As it stands right now, our friend is currently re-translating all of the Chinese documents and comparing them to the "official" translation. Oh, and all those sections marked "illegible" aren't....

The "stupid" is exhausting me. If the doctor received the "official" translation in time, I will spend $500.00 and an evening listening to the doc opine on information that is over a year old. The medical may be close to current, but obviously, the developmental will not be. Shall we discuss the $1850.00 that my lovely agency charges as a referral fee? You know, the one that covers translation? The translation that is incomplete and inaccurate? The one that our friend is having to re-do? I shudder to think what it will cost to properly "thank" our friend and his wife for all their help. Did I mention that this entire process causes one to hemorrhage money? I shall not, after all it would be in poor taste to do so.......And heaven forbid I do or say anything that might be in "poor taste"... :)

The One Where I Find Myself On The Opposite Side Of The Fence...

So the interwebz is all aflutter about the NBC/Teleflora gaff. The "Non-Mom" category in a contest. All across the interwebz there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth. So much so, the category was retracted and renamed forthwith. "To arms, to arms!" "We are just regular Moms!" "Boycott NBC!" Boycott Teleflora!" "Call the FCC!" Adoptive mothers everywhere seem to have lost their collective minds.

Being an adult adoptee of an adoptee, I can tell you that both my mother and my grandmother were not "regular" Moms. Their paths to family were different than a great percentage of the population and I can't see any reason not to acknowledge them for that. When I see grandmothers, aunties, gay partners, anyone, taking on the challenge of parenting a child, I'm in awe and I can't bring myself to call them "regular" at all.

The internet supports a plethora of "mommyblogs" and within that plethora, one can see mommies separating themselves from the pack and breaking off into groups of people with like experiences. There are single mom blogs, adoptive mom blogs, gay mom blogs, gay men as moms blogs, grandparents raising grandchildren, etc. And that seems to be okay. It actually seems natural. But heaven forbid, anyone outside that small world acknowledges it. Prepare for the wrath of the Gods to descend.....

To all those moms out there...you know who you are... you are different. You're not a "regular" Mom. You didn't travel the same path as the majority of society. It doesn't make you better or worse than any other mother out there, but it does make you different. And to try and erase that difference is doing yourself and quite possibly your child, a disservice. Your path, your journey, is uniquely your own. It sets you aside from a great majority of society and it should be celebrated.

What seems to get lost in the melee is that this is not about love, it's about labels. Why in the world would anyone want to share a label with someone who has not made the same journey as themselves? Why would anyone want to be "regular"?

So here's the part that's going to get me in trouble with gazillions of Non-Mom moms out there. This entire hullabaloo is less about how the world sees you, it's much more about how you see yourself. To me, it's extrodinarily sad to see folks denying their own reality and scrabbling to join the ranks of the ordinary. It's heartbreaking and disheartening to see people take a label as judgement. It also breaks my heart to see that so many of you still consider the biology important, even as you deny it matters.

I think NBC could have done a better job with their categories. I'm not sure how, but I'm sure there's a better word for it. What kills me, is that there are a bunch of kids out there who just might have participated in that contest, and who just might have a "Non-Mom" mom who loves them unconditionally. And now, because the grown-ups in their life chose indignation over understanding, their view of the people that love them is being challenged. Instead of their Mom being unique and special and different, their Mom must be like all the other Moms or someone's feelings are going to get hurt, or someone's going to get mad. Nice message, don't you think? Whatever your vision is, it's alright as long as it's the same as everyone else. And the same as mine.....And the same as the guy down the streets, and the same as the lady in the grocery store, and the same as......

BULLETS ARE BETTER....

• The CCAA has finished referrals up to December 14, 2006. That means that friends K & P will finally see their wildest dream come true! Congratulations you guys! It also means that we're roughly 4 months out from our own bit of wildness...

• Dubya is unveiling his plan to help homeowners with sub prime loans. Theoretically, this seems like a good idea, but, as the homeowner who played by the rules, I must say I'm a wee bit offended. I understand that home ownership is the American dream, but the idea that everyone in this country is entitled to own a home is a bit silly. The very nature of capitalism makes the idea impossible. So now, we'll have an entire group of people who couldn't afford the home they bought, gaining equity (albeit at a pretty slow rate) for five years while paying ridiculously low interest rates. Meanwhile, those of us who behaved responsibly with our purchase will see our equity growth slow or even stop. Further proof that there is no reward for responsibility in this country.

• Speaking of homes, it is currently a whopping 7 degrees outside mine. The odds of me leaving the house?? Pretty slim..

• The Spinner is having a bout of cabin fever. This involves him launching his furry 37 pounds at me and then using me for a chew toy. I hit the pet store the other day for one of those "keep your pet amused" toys. I came home with something called a "molecule" and it was a big hit. For a day. And then in disappeared into the depths of the snow in the backyard. Odds of me digging through the snow to find it? Slim to none. Odds of me hitting up the pet store for 3 more of the dang things? Pretty good...

• Apparently, Costco's chicken salad is a dieting aid. After a nice helping several evenings ago, I found myself snoozing on the bathroom floor in between bouts of the "whoopsies". My stomach is now angry and suspicious of anything that it's introduced to. Hopefully this will be good for five pounds or so.
  

And so ends this morning's musings. I am out of ideas and coffee. Stay warm ya'll!

Morals, Ethics, and Adoption.......

I don't discuss the adoption thing much, it's like one of those computer programs that runs behind the scenes while I do something else. It has it's own life, it is out of my control, and I'll deal with it when/if it ever comes to pass. Or whenever I reach that magic deadline in my head (that's a story for another day).

Today's story, boys and girls, involves international adoption and the lengths that folks will go to get their own way. And the inevitable question....Should they?

I have lived with, or been married to Himself for close to ten years. In that time, my BIL has been diagnosed with "teh crazy". I cannot remember a time when he didn't have "teh crazy" and I can't remember a time when my BIL and "teh crazy" did not consume my SIL's life. My BIL is a bright man, but "teh crazy" has altered his life and put a tremendous burden on my SIL. Sometimes the anti-crazy meds worked, sometimes they didn't. Sometimes the BIL was well enough to work, sometimes he wasn't. My SIL was forced to be the grown-up, and to her credit, she handled many of life's trials and tribulations on her own.

In addition to dealing with "teh crazy" my SIL also dealt with infertility. Lots of infertility. And the all-consuming need to breed. Convinced that her life would be incomplete without a child, she endured countless procedures and countless disappointments. When it became somewhat apparent that birthing a child wasn't in the cards for her, she turned to alternative means. First came the foster system, and the foster system in her state said "Sorry, can't help you, your DH has "teh crazy". Then came the domestic adoption thing. And both the agencies and prospective mothers said "Sorry, can't help you, your DH has "teh crazy". Then, it was the international community. Several countries (including china) told her "Sorry, can't help you, your DH has "teh crazy".

Sometime during all of this, my SIL disappeared from our lives. Right after my MIL passed away several years ago, my SIL pulled a Garbo and announced that "she vanted to be alone". We didn't hear from her for three years. I think we received a Xmas card during that time, but that was about it. Phone calls went unreturned, and certainly our phone never rang. In the beginning I was somewhat supportive, then, as time went on, I decided that "teh crazy" was a sexually transmitted disease and she caught it.

Several weeks ago, our phone rang. It is the SIL with the announcement that she had just brought her son home from a Central American country and that she wanted to tell us before anyone else in the family did. WTF??? Along with the announcement came the request that we meet her at the airport during her layover (from visiting other relatives about an hour away) to meet our new nephew. Himself graciously accepted. As for me, I passed. I have trouble playing "nice" anyway, and my lack of verbal self-control would certainly put a damper on the situation. I also have an issue with the fact that she has not wanted anything to do with me or her brother for the last three years. We have walked the trials and tribulations of life alone, without any family. If she wants to be gone, she may stay gone. Life is too short to slap on the fake smile for people who don't give a damn whether you live or die. But enough about my issues....moving on....

Apparently, the meeting went well enough. However, during the conversation, Himself discovered that SIL had finally found a doctor that said BIL did not actually have "teh crazy" he was just prone to depression. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the diagnosis that was put into the dossier. After ten years or more of having "teh crazy", suddenly my BIL was cured and isn't crazy after all.

I have no doubt that my BIL still has "teh crazy". It is my belief (and Himself's) that SIL shopped around until she could find a doctor that was willing to tell her what she wanted to hear (and commit it to paper). So here we are. Almost three years into waiting, after playing by the rules, after never being diagnosed with "teh crazy" (although I have often been suspected...LOL) and the cheater comes up with a child. And here lies the moral and ethical questions....

1) Is cheating justified? If you want something so badly that you're willing to toss the rules in the toilet, is it something that you should have?
2) If you've cheated, do you really have the child's best interest at heart?
3) And what of the agency who seemed to have conveniently ignored 10 years worth of diagnosis? Are they merely trafficking in children? And do they have the child's best interest at heart?
4) Is a child put into this situation actually better off?

I want to be happy for all concerned here, but I'm having difficulty. Moons ago, I was vilified for alluding to the fact that all we are doing by adopting internationally is buying a child. This blip on the screen has done nothing to change my mind. I can't imagine that somewhere out there, there wasn't a family who was better suited to raising this child.....perhaps their check didn't clear....

So, I'm an avid blog reader......yes.... I'll admit it.... my name is Nyt and I'm an addict. So now, maybe, I'll work one of my own, let it all out, amuse, entertain....

Today I read a nice piece about infertility, adoption and the judgments that go with both. I'm a grown-up adoptee and I'm in the process of adopting. Not too hard to figure out which side of the whole infertility fence I'm standing on. Anyhow, the nice lady at this blog and many of those that left comments seem to view adoption as a very, very, last resort. Hmmmm... Then there's the comments about the money...Waaahhhh it costs soooo much money!!!! Um.... no.... and um, no.

I'm all for doing whatever makes you happy, really I am, but I can't help but wonder...

I was not struck by the "Imustcarryachild" lightening bolt. I was hit by the "Imustbeamother" one. Maybe because I am an adopted child, the whole biology thingy is lost on me. I respect it, I just don't get it. I try not to be judgmental, really I do, but I have to ask....What is most important here, being a parent or making sure your genes are in the pool? I'm struck by these wonderful romantic comments that these women make, "I want to make two halfs into a whole person." "I want the image of the man I love". Tell me that again when the image is the man you love standing naked scratching his balls.
Seriously though, what it most important? Does it vary from person to person, or is there some divine finite answer that just hasn't been revealed? And why is it a last resort? And if it is your last resort, should you even be allowed to adopt at all? And if you are that last resort person, what to you tell your child about how he/she came to be your child? "Well John/Jane your father and I reached the end of our list and there you were?
Then there's the cost argument. I wonder if any of those people are actually looking at the bills that are sent to the insurance company. After all, we're all paying for their decision to try to have a child of their "own". Oh yeah, and we're paying for the children who aren't being adopted through social programs..... oh and the other thing...no one is paying for our choice. Just us...