Five on Friday: Adoption Hits

At any given time, I have multiple running notes on future Five on Friday list ideas. These notes contain anywhere from one to four possible entries for the list. Sometimes they come to fruition immediately, sometimes they linger awhile, sometimes they never make it and get cut.

One recent idea was adoption humor, some of the funny incidents that have come up over the years due to the fact that we are a mixed-race family thanks to growing our family through adoption. 

Some of my kids pointing out where they are represented in my tattoo

I usually feel more inclined to share the poignant or bittersweet sides of adoption, never wanting to emphasis the funny parts in fear of downplaying the inherent loss that comes along with adoption. (Uh, but then again, I have been known to do things like this.)

Anyway that idea was just sort of lingering on the list when it was brought to my attention that the video of the story I told for The Moth, although a couple of years old now, had many new comments I hadn't seen before (a very nice realization).

That combined with the fact that I had no other ideas for this week's list ready (not to mention that I had horrible insomnia last night and really just no creative energy to come up with something off the cuff) meant it was time.

So for my last list of 2021, here are some adoption humor hits from over the years. Forgive me if any of them are repeat stories for you, but they still make me laugh:

1. Picture it: a local playground, 2006. I have three children at the time: my two oldest (white, biological) children and one brown foster baby.  My daughter, age six at the time, has made a new friend and is having a great time with him. At one point, they run over to me to get a snack and the little boy eyes me and the baby up. 

Is that your Mom?

Yes.

Is that your brother?
Yes.

(. . . a moment passes while he contemplates . . . )

Your baby brother is . . . veeeeeeeeeeeeery . . . . tan.

2. I had a period of time when I'd be picking up the kids' prescription vitamins and when asked for their birthdates (including YEARS--don't you think that's a little too much to ask???), I'd falter and look like an idiot. 

So this one time I decided to practice on my way up. When she asked for their five birthdates, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom! I had them all ready. I joked with her about having five kids and how sometimes I get the dates mixed up. She had a good sense of humor and tried to play along, pretending to be me ad libbed something like, "What? My kids' birthdays? Sure, I know when they were born, I mean I was there, right?"

This put me over the edge. "But I wasn't!!" I took the vitamins and walked away, completely cracking myself up and leaving her bewildered.

3. On the phone while making an appointment recently:

Your daughter's name is so beautiful.

Thank you.

How did you come up with it?

I didn't name her.

4. As a white woman raising Black kids, I do worry sometimes that we're not raising them "Black enough." But then I decided to put breadcrumbs on the homemade macaroni and cheese on a whim and our 15-year-old Black son accused me of trying to serve him "white people food."

Touché, son, and you'd better watch it or I'll whip up some green bean casserole next.

5. Finally, a conversation between my Black daughter (five years old at the time) and my white son (who was thirteen) that has to be my most favorite mixed-race family moment ever, hands-down:

Did you know my stuffed animals can talk?

Really?

Only when people leave the room.

Oh yeah?

Only when white people leave the room.

Five on Friday: Family Forest

The fourth grade family tree project can be tricky. Not for our first two kids, but they are ours biologically and so this sort of project was designed with them in mind.

Our next two kids are adopted. As much as I wanted them to represent both of their families, I gave them the choice on how to complete it. E, who is older, chose to only represent his adoptive family on his tree. Z, who is younger, always does what his older brother does (even though he will strongly deny that). I'll admit I was a little disappointed but I respected their decisions.

Now our youngest child is in fourth grade and immediately announced that she wanted to include both of her families. I was thrilled but also had no idea how we were going to do it. Once again, I followed my child's lead and am so glad I did.

Here are some highlights and grats from working on this project with her:

1. I am so thankful to her teacher! The first part of this project involved writing down where my child's ancestors came from. When I reached out to her teacher to discuss this, I learned that she had already read a book and had discussions with the class on all of the ways our country was populated that included Native residents, immigration and slavery.

2. This teacher has had students with blended families create unique trees before but never had an adopted student who wanted to represent both of their families. I am further thankful to her teacher for being very receptive to letting our daughter take the lead on how to approach this.

3. The way she tackled it was completely unique, just like her and her families. Two families deserve two trees. I asked what about her and her two older brothers who are a part of both families? How would they be represented? They would be gold leaves that touched both trees.

Hard to tell from this picture, but her leaf is much more sparkly than her brothers' leaves.

4. I found myself once again extremely grateful for our relationships with birth family that made asking for more names and information much easier.

5. The final result: not a family tree but a Family Forest. She felt so proud of it that she asked me to not post on Facebook until she handed it in . . . she was convinced a classmate would see it and steal her ideas!

Five on Friday: Sister's Sweet Sixteen

Life with an open adoption frequently means that the mundane and profound are entwined. An example would be the family party we went to last weekend. While there's nothing unusual about a family going to a  Sweet Sixteen celebration it was actually rather remarkable: it was in honor of my adopted children's biological sister. When I remember the years of not knowing if my kids would ever even be able to have a photograph of any of their biological family members, I realize just how extraordinary us going to that party was. Here are some observations from a lovely evening:

1. I had to work before the party and left instructions for the kids to please write something thoughtful in the card for their sister. This is what they came up with:

2. Once again I was struck by how inadequate the English language is in describing families like ours. I was dreading being asked how I was related to the Birthday Girl, since there is not a simple word to explain it. (Turns out at this point everyone pretty much knows who I am though, because nobody asked!)

3.  My youngest daughter took a few minutes to warm up but then we didn't see her all evening as she had become the constant shadow to the cool older sister she doesn't live with.

4. The Birthday Girl decided on her own to hold a candle lighting ceremony where she thanked different friends and family members for their influence in her life and then invited them up to help her light a candle. As we stood and watched, my 11-year-old son looked slightly horrified at first: "Do we have to do this when we turn 16????"  When I asked him if he remembered his older brother and sister at home doing such a thing, he was relieved.

5. Then their sister called the three of them up to help her light a candle. Here's a photo of the exact moment when the profundity of it all hit me. You can imagine the blurred faces are just actually the tears in my eyes from the beauty of this moment.

I hope one day the kids realize how beautiful this moment was

Five on Friday: Perks of Having a Sister Who Doesn't Live With You

I firmly believe that families belong together and that siblings should be raised together.

I also happen to have a family made up with children who don't live with their biological parents nor all of their biological siblings. However, we fall into the extremely fortunate category of families like this who can and do have those relatives in our lives, even if not under the same roof.

The one my kids are closest to is their older sister who was adopted into a different family.  They've known her their entire lives and she's spent time with us in the summer. They stay in touch with her frequently, most adorably through FaceTime:

Last Wednesday I got a text from her Mom saying something like, "I heard K is coming to stay with you this weekend, is that okay with you?"

I laughed out loud. I hadn't heard about this at all. I could talk to the kids about remembering to ask before making plans but I couldn't be mad: they invited their sister over!

As much as I wish that all siblings could be raised together, I have to say I've noticed there are some perks to having a sister who doesn't live with you but occasionally comes to visit:

1. You don't have to hide your adoration for her. My  younger three kids have older siblings here that they live with and absolutely look up but they'd NEVER be obvious about it. Not so with a visiting sister!

2. A big sister that's only here sometimes is happy to play and hang out with you for hours on end. Likewise, she's not here long enough for you to get on her nerves.

3. Somehow all three younger kids--two of whom bicker constantly--get along better when K is in the mix.

4. Live-action observation of Nature vs. Nurture. The kids think it's kind of cool to see what they have in common with a person they share biology but not parents with; I find it fascinating.

5. The part that my kids think is best: she may be a sister but she's also a guest, so there's lots of staying up late and eating junk food while she's here.

Five on Friday: Sister Week

If there's any benefit to biological siblings not living together, it's that when they do get to spend time together they have so much fun and don't get to the point of getting on each other's nerves. At least that's been our experience in spending time with big sister one week at a time over the summer. It's all giggling and no bickering, which is beautiful music to this Mama's ears.

(By the way, her week with us isn't over yet so I reserve the right to make another post about this magical time next Friday.)

But so far, these were some of the best things about her visit:

1. Our very first meal together was sandwiches. My boys started yelling that their younger sister "likes mayonnaise now!" I immediately saw what was happening: she was constructing her sandwich to be exactly like her big sister's turkey with mayo, onion, lettuce and tomato. When I asked if that was what was going on, little sister saved face by declaring,  "Actually I don't want tomatoes right now."

2. However, the next night at dinner, little sister constructed her plate exactly like big sister's again. She whispered to me, "Don't tell her but I'm only eating it this way to be like her."

3. One night I went to check on the kids before I went to bed and found big sister snuggled into a twin sized bed with her younger brother. (Of course the next morning he was on the floor but it sure was cute while it lasted!)

4. Playing: in sand, water, lawn and house. Decorating each other with hair chalk. Movies. Board games. Just all the silly little fun togetherness that at one time I never dreamed would be possible . . .

5. Recently Facebook reminded me that it was the anniversary of our youngest child learning to walk. I had commented then that it was still magical to witness, even the fifth time around. The next day I brought Sister to meet her Great Grandmother. It was, actually, the fifth time I had the pleasure of witnessing Great Grandma getting to meet one of her Great Grandchildren that she prayed for and loved from afar . . . and it was just as magical as the first.

Five on Friday: A Little Kindness

For anyone who has ever loved a child,
For anyone who has ever adored a parent,
For anyone who has ever had to leave under the cloak of night,
For anyone who has never had to imagine what that might be like,
For anyone who has a heart . . . . this week's been rough.

I'm particularly feeling a little ache in that Adoptive-Mom-Happy-Sadness part of my heart with each "families belong together" image I see. Because I believe that, I support that 100% but it drives home the fact that three of my children have experienced that loss. Many times I feel like I carry that pain for them until they're ready to acknowledge it. At the same time I know I'll never truly understand what that pain is like . . . this week's been rough.

These are the weeks I try a little harder to notice the good, the kindness, the sweetness and the love around me. For today's list, I'm going to share some of them with you:

1. Boom! Summer is really here and all the things I love about it, too. A gaggle of kids in the yard on the slip and slide. The gardens are tended too and exploding with color. Grandma's church carnival, an annual tradition, had perfect weather this year. Sparklers and ice cream and dirty, dirty feet. It's good for me to take a moment and feel grateful for these things I love so much.

2. We were recently the recipients of extremely generous gifts from two different families in our community that will provide family fun and entertainment for our entire family. Both were complete surprises that will be very enjoyed by all of us. I'm so thankful for both of them.

3. I was paid a wonderful compliment on my parenting by our family doctor the other day. I'm going to pay a wonderful compliment to someone else now when I can because that felt really good.

4.  Truly feeling like part of the community. From bigger things like easily getting kid care and carpools very easily arranged to little things like loaning mayonnaise to neighbors and catching up with my favorite supermarket cashier on her upcoming surgery. It's good to feel connected to the people around you.

5. On my drive to work, I frequently see an older woman who walks with a walker out with her dog. I always notice her and worry that the frisky little pup is going to pull her right over! On my drive home the other day, I saw her in her front yard. The dog was nowhere in sight, but the mailman was there and he was holding her hose, watering her front plants for her. Witnessing kindness, even when I'm not the recipient, really does feel like a salve to my heart. It's good to see people being good, isn't it?

I hope you've witness some kindness, peace and good this week. Now let's get back to fighting for what's right.

Five on Friday: Behind the Scenes

If somehow you found my blog without following me somewhere else on social media, I'll just fill you in: I told a story for The Moth which was aired two weeks ago. A video of it was shared on Hey Iris earlier this week and has been getting a lot of attention.

View from the stage of the Folly Theater in Kansas City, MO

The response to my video has been mind-blowing. Each time I check on it, the numbers of likes, shares, comments and views seems to have jumped exponentially. An adoptive father from Finland let me know that it was shared on a Finnish Adoption page and a woman from California wants to show it in her Foster Parent training classes. Multiple agencies and support groups are sharing it with their followers.

I was going to make today's list about my favorites of these responses but I am notoriously bad at picking favorites. I claim "rainbow" as my favorite color, okay? So how I think I'd narrow down the thousands (literally!) to just five is beyond me. Fine, this one definitely makes the cut, but after that I'm a total loss:

Also I think I need to make sure credit is being given where credit is due, so for today's list I'm going to shed some light and share a little gratitude, for:

1.  The good, nice, competent, wonderful case and social workers we did have. I realize the only impression I give in my story is that they all were unreliable. Unfortunately that was true for many that we had. But I will always remember  the ones that broke the stereotype, particularly the older woman who spent her monthly visits with us in a Grandmotherly fashion cuddling babies on the couch. 

2. My kids: My biological kids, you didn't know Daddy and I were taking you on a roller coaster ride. Thanks for accepting all of it (the case workers' questions, the siblings you didn't know if you'd be able to keep and all the new extended family we never knew we'd have) without puking.

My adopted kids, for challenging what I thought I knew. For hurling "You're not my real Mom" at me those times when you were really hurting. It doesn't hurt my feelings to acknowledge that you do, in fact, have another Mom. And if you feel safe enough to show me your deepest pain and biggest anger, that makes me feel pretty real as a Mom, too.

3. Jen Hixson, my Director at The Moth for helping me weave a thousand loose strands into a beautiful tapestry. I'm also grateful to Jen for understanding and defending my choice to not add in parts that were too private or not mine to tell.

4. My husband, the half of this partnership that prefers the auditorium seats to the stage.  Just because he's not up there with me doesn't mean he hasn't been right here with me. My life is completely magical and I can trace it all back to that time I met a boy in Freshman Choir.

5. My kids' biological family for welcoming, accepting and loving us. People try to give me a lot of credit for our relationship happening. I tell them all the same thing: "Relationships are two-way streets."

 "Yes," they say, "but you reached out."

 "Yes," I say, "but they reached back."

Five On Friday: What Makes Family

As a family with three adopted children, we're well acquainted with the notion that one doesn't need to be biologically related to be family. Everyone in this household well knows that it doesn't matter what uterus you came from, if I trip over your shoes one more time so help me god I am going to throw them away.

Because that's family.

Our family first grew in ways we didn't expect with the surprise arrivals of babies number four and five and hasn't stopped growing since. No more babies but lots of Siblings, Cousins, Aunties, Grandparents, Uncles--all biological relatives of our adopted children.  Last Sunday evening after a really nice visit with some of this extended family, my oldest daughter said to me, "It's nice how we get all this extra family now." (And she's not even biologically related to any of them. I'm sensing a theme here.)

They've been in our lives for a few years now and I realized there are a bunch of little things that truly make me feel like family when we visit, like:

1. The kids know right where to go to find the toys at both Uncle Pop-Pop* and Great Grandma's homes.

2. We feel comfortable digging around in their refrigerators.

3. We have traditions together--the first year we met Great Grandma, I had a coupon for one of those free photo calendars so I had one made for her, unsure of what else I could give her.  She ADORED it. I can't believe I just made her sixth one. She treasures the old ones and saves them every year.

4.  Laughing together. Not polite chuckles but honest-to-goodness belly laughs. 

5. Being genuinely happy to see one another, being hugged, kissed and flat out told, "You're family. So put your damn shoes away before I trip on them."**

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*Hey, unique relationships sometimes result in unique names.

**Okay, they've never admonished me to put my shoes away. But they have told me repeatedly, "You're family now," which fills me with so much joy.

Five on Friday: Teenage Babysitters for the Win

If you've been reading along, you know that this is the first summer I'm trying to juggle five children home from school and a part-time job. Even though my teenagers are perfectly capable of babysitting the younger three kids at times, I didn't want to leave them in charge for ten hours a week. There's way too much sibling bickering for them to have to deal with. Luckily I have lots of family locally that are willing and able to take care of the little three (see last week's updates on Grandmas Camp they've been enjoying)

This past week my adopted kids' biological sister has been staying with us. I thought the addition of one more teenager--one exciting teenager that all the kids want to play with--would change the dynamics at home and that it might be okay to leave the kids home alone while I was at work.

I was right. These kids had a BLAST without me home. Here are the top five hits of having the teenagers in charge:

1. Cooking challenge! They had about three of them and sent me pictures of all sorts of really good looking dishes they made (and even saved me some.) I love seeing kids active in the kitchen but honestly, I often forget to include them in cooking.

2. THEY CLEANED THE KITCHEN WHEN THEY WERE DONE. The garbage was even taken out. I could swoon.

3.They took sidewalk chalk drawing to a whole new level:

4. There was a little vomit the first morning from my youngest--which of course I'm not thrilled about--but I've got to say, the teens handled it extremely well. (Turns out to maybe have just been a case of a little girl sucking down too much snot, not actually sick.)

5. But the very, very best about leaving the teens in charge this week was that my children got to bond one-on-one with the older sister they adore and don't get to see enough without any pesky meddling adults to get in the way.

Five on Friday: Highlights from Our Recent Visit with Birth Family (or, as we like to call each other, Family)

We had a long overdue visit with my adopted kids' extended biological family last week. Here are the five best things about our visit first at Great Grandma's and then at Uncle Pop-Pop's* house:

1. Getting to bring cheer to Great Grandma who has had some tough emotional blows to deal with in the past few months. Seeing the look of joy on her face when surrounded by the children.

2. Kids finally got to see Uncle Pop-Pop's multiple pet reptiles that he first told them about over a year ago.

 3. The ease with which ALL of my children--adopted and biological--accept and cherish these relationships. When Auntie arrived after work, I am pretty sure my oldest (biological) daughter would have tackled anyone that got in her way in saying "hello" first.

4. Unexpectedly being able to also see my kids' Birth Mom (or "First Mom/my" as our household vernacular dictates) . . . I am sure my four-year-old didn't remember her and that made me sad. Happy for the visit and the photos to keep her fresh in their minds.

Trading shoes with her First Mommy for a laugh together

5. Being told personally by both Great Grandma and then Uncle Pop-Pop's wife, "You're family."

(* http://www.sisterserendip.com/2013/05/a-grandpa-by-any-other-name.html) 

Why Other Families' "Disrupted Adoptions" Hurt Mine

Note made on 12/11/14: 

Since I'm getting a lot of traffic and some anticipated backlash from my mention in this Yahoo article: "Giving Away 'Anatoly Z'" I'd like to take a moment to defend myself.

With it being such a long article with so much information about the specific families involved in this one child's life, the author clearly didn't have space to share more that she and I spoke about on the phone. I realize in the article I do come across as a little harsh and insensitive and I would like to assure you my anger comes from a place of hurt. I know plenty of foster and adoptive families that struggle with difficult placements, some even making the heart wrenching decision to place their children in Residential Treatment Centers but never considering un-adopting them. The one family that I knew that did decide to disrupt their adoption had, as far as I and our mutual friends could tell, no problems that weren't to be expected and did not reach out at all to us, their local adoptive family community, for assistance. I struggle all the time with my feelings about what happened and my compassion and understanding ebbs and flows but I keep coming back around to feeling that my adopted children are hurt by this. Is it illogical? It might be, it might not be. But I know that I continue to grieve and struggle with this constantly.

Lastly, my "normal" people quote was taken out of context. If you read my original essay below, you will see I meant "normal" as regular people as opposed to diplomats or celebrities.

 

The first time I had heard about it, it was about a rich diplomat in a foreign country. It was a sensationalized news story that happened far away. It was an anomaly, for sure: normal people don’t just “un-adopt” their children.

Then came similar stories featuring regular people in my own country. Next came the exposé on a major new source reporting on the growing trend of “rehoming*” adopted children, particularly internationally adopted ones. Perhaps the most troubling part was the lack of oversight in the securing of the new homes: some parents had taken to looking online to find a new family for their adopted children. Stories emerged of children already twice traumatized being sent to pedophiles and abusers.

Each time my heart ached for these children and then I’d be filled with outrage at their parents. How dare they? How could they give up these children they said they were dedicated to for life? A few of my friends tried to help me find sympathy for the families, to save my disgust for those adoption agencies that saw dollar signs before warning signs. They encouraged me to direct my anger at those organizations that did not provide adequate screening of families before placing children with them or proper follow-up and support afterwards. I tried.

Then last fall it happened in my local adoption community.

This time my outrage came coupled with anger and pain. Again and again I tried to find sympathy for the family that made this decision; again and again I failed. I had countless conversations with friends about it: improper screening. Poor decision-making. Lack of familial support. Repeatedly I dipped into my wells of compassion and came up dry. I asked myself how could I, a woman who could find a way to forgive the stranger that held a knife to my throat and raped me, not find compassion for this family?

And when I was asked the question: “What are you going to tell your kids about it?” I realized why--because ultimately this isn’t about hurting me. This affects what I hold most sacred: this hurts my children. This harms my family.

As an adoptive parent, I fight against the notion that I’m not my adopted children’s “real” mother or they’re not my “real” children. I see more and more stories online about families deciding to keep their biological children and “rehome” the adopted ones. There is outrage, yes, but there are also growing numbers of commenters pledging understanding and support for the family’s “brave” decision. As this acceptance becomes more commonplace, it chips away at the public’s perceived validity of my family. It promotes an idea that when it gets too hard, we can give them away—but just the adopted ones, of course. Never would there be such widespread acceptance of the giving away of the “real” children.

Each time we went to court to finalize our adoptions, I found it odd how many times the Judge asked us, “Do you understand that from now on, it will be just as if you had given birth to this child?” Of course we understood! When we adopted them, yes, we meant they would be our children for life, just like when we gave birth to the others.

It’s true our adopted children each came to us as infants and none of them have had any atypical behaviors for us to deal with so far. They’ve never acted out in any ways that have physically or emotionally hurt anyone else in our family. They’ve never needed any specialized therapy nor have we due to parenting them.  But they are young yet; those challenges may be coming in the future.

Guess what else is true? The same exact statements could be made about our biological children. Who’s to say which of these five children will ever cause us heartache and strife? If there comes a point when raising any of them becomes insanely difficult, we will find the resources needed to stay together. This is our family. Adoption Having children is forever, no matter how they come.

So what are we going to tell the children? We’ve decided that, for as long as possible, we’re not going to tell them anything about it. Just like we protect them from stories of murder or kidnapping, we will shield them from this until they are older. We don’t want to worry their young minds with this. For as long as we can, we won’t let them know that “un-adopting” is a possibility.

Because in our family, it isn’t.

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*"Rehoming" and "Disrupted Adoptions" have become the euphemisms for voluntarily relinquishing one’s adopted child.

Foster Parent Survivor's Guilt

Several times a year I can expect any one of my friends to reach out to me saying, “I have a friend that’s interested in foster care/adopting through foster care, is it okay if I put them in touch with you?” I always agree but tell them it comes with a disclaimer that our fost-adopt experience was atypical.

We knew we wanted to adopt only, thinking that fostering a child and having to say goodbye to them would be too difficult for the two biological children we already had (not to mention hard on ourselves, too). But we also knew that the State is NOT an adoption agency, meaning it is not in the business of placing available infants with waiting families.  Armed with that knowledge and having been lucky enough to have already raised two infants, we decided we wouldn't request a newborn. But since we wanted to keep birth order intact, we said we were open to taking a child up to age 4 (my biological son’s age at the time). Additionally, we were willing to wait longer for a child who was already legally free for adopting. It does happen sometimes that a family that does not want to adopt fosters a child--so when they become legally free, a new family must be found.

We became licensed and settled in for what would surely be a long wait. Instead, we got a call within six weeks. There was an infant at the hospital waiting—might we be interested? Now, this baby was not legally free yet but the circumstances of his case led us to believe that he would be. We decided to take the chance knowing full well that a possibility existed that we were getting ourselves into the situation we wanted to avoid—loving and losing a baby. (I remember during our foster parent training one of the other potential foster parents asked, “How do you not get your heart broken?” And I will always remember the instructor’s response: “Quite frankly, if your heart doesn’t break, I’m not sure you’re cut out for this. These kids need a safe place to live and grow but what they need most is to know unconditional love.”)

Thus began our fostering career. There were some ups and downs, a few surprises, a couple of unexpected siblings that needed a home, but overall our fostering experience was easy: comparatively little drama and all three kids we fell in love with were eventually adopted by us.

Six years and three adoptions into our fostering career, we let our license expire. I verified with several workers that we would be called if there were ever another biological sibling that needed a home even if our license wasn’t current. They all replied in the affirmative. “Its so nice that State tries to keep siblings together!” people remark to me all the time. Personally I don’t think it’s so much the State being “nice” so much as them being lazy in a way—I think placing a child in a home can be hard sometimes and the chances of a family saying “yes” are greatly increased when the new child in question is biologically related to the ones they already have. Or maybe the State is just being nice and I’m just skeptical.

I was thrilled at the thought of being done with fostering. No more online training hours! No more monthly visits from case and resource workers! No more visits from the State Nurse every six months! No more yearly home inspections!

But then something began to happen: both my online foster/adoptive parents support group and my real life one began to grow exponentially. Finally when I was done with fostering I had a strong community of other foster parents to talk to! I still have plenty to discuss with them regarding adoption (particularly of the transracial variety) but I wished I had them when I still had all those State workers in my life.

Now my heart hurts for my friends whose hearts really are being broken by loving and then losing foster kids. I also get to celebrate children’s progress, successful reunifications with birth families or adoptions by foster families. I become filled with excitement for a family who accepts a new placement.  I anxiously read about families desperately needed for a sibling group of three or infant twins. For a brief moment I think, “ME! ME! I can do it!” before I snap myself back into reality.

We JUST finished a costly and time-consuming addition to our house. Our car ONLY fits the number of people we have in our family now. I FINALLY have a few hours a week to myself to pursue my non-parenting interests. (I also have the fear that if we ever did relicense and take a child in we’d then get a call about a sibling to one of my adopted kids and might not be able to take her/him because of the other foster child. That can’t happen.) We CAN’T open up to other placements right now, we just can’t.

But my heart aches when I hear about these children that need a home. I encourage my foster friends to go ahead and take that placement! Yes, you should totally take those two autistic preschoolers!! Twin newborns when you already have twins that are not quite one year old? You should definitely take them!! Because I can’t!! And then I feel badly when I see these families going through the roller coaster of foster care, especially when it (often) is worse than anything we ever went through.

And then I realized: I think I have foster parent survivors’ guilt. Our experience, when all was said and done, was relatively easy and drama-free. We adopted three great kids (that came to us as infants) while my friends continue to ride the emotional roller coaster that is foster care. No, I can’t take another kid right now but there is something I can to assuage that guilt. I can answer practical questions for potential or current foster families (What was the training like? What happens at mediation?). I can support the local foster friends that I encouraged to potentially break their own hearts by gathering the necessities their new placements might be lacking. I can drop off dinner to a family that got an unexpected child that week. I can offer myself as emergency childcare for working foster families on snow days.  

 The bad news about foster parent survivor guilt is that it can strike anyone, not just former foster parents. When I held a holiday gift drive for local foster kids (yes, to remedy my ailment) the response was overwhelming. I've been involved in many different kinds of donation drives before and it's always wonderful to see how generous people can be. But in my experience, they are even more so when it comes to helping foster kids. Maybe they always thought they'd be a foster family and now find they aren't able to. Maybe they know they are lucky to have the resources to keep their own family together. Maybe their heart, like mine, hurts to hear about kids they can't take in. 

The good news is that anyone suffering from this ailment can alleviate the symptoms the same way I can. Getting rid of kid stuff? Find the local foster family support group to see if there are any foster families that would like it. Looking to make a monetary donation? Look online to see what foster care support agencies in your state could use some help (there is one in New Jersey called "Fostering Wishes" that helps provide money to foster kids for "extras" like sports, camps or musical instrument lessons). Bring dinner to a foster family. If you have the time, look into becoming a Big Brother/Big Sister/mentor, CASA volunteer or respite care provider. 

You, too, can help foster kids without fostering them. And together we can fight foster parent survivor's guilt.

Five on Friday: Our Top Five Family Traditions

1. Outhouse Theatre (We hang a movie screen on the outhouse in our yard and invite friends over to watch a movie on it. At the end of the summer we have a short film fest where everyone makes their own movies to show and there are prizes for everyone.)

2. Gingerbread House making on Thanksgiving Day! (And then smashing and eating of Gingerbread House at our annual Holiday Party with friends!) http://www.sisterserendip.com/2013/12/our-gingerbread-tradition.html


3. Secret Santa with the cousins on both sides of the family (so much easier/cheaper than buying for all fifteen of them. It's also more fun for the kids.)

4. Growing hands Christmas Tree https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=750197838328190&set=pb.627254967289145.-2207520000.1386682830.&type=3&theater

5. And, according to G, one of our favorite family traditions is "getting a new kid every couple of years."

Age Gap Advantages

Okay, fine, so it’s not all terrible having the kids spaced out as much as we do.  I don’t think we would have necessarily planned our family to be this way but then again we didn’t do any sort of traditional family planning. Sure, we did a little bit of planning--we had two kids and then Daddy-O had a vasectomy. (And oh, what accolades there were for a twenty-eight year old man making that choice! “Such a good man!” so many people commented. Others were concerned, “Are you sure you want to do that? You’re so young yet!” We were surprised so many people would have so much to say about our decision. Silly us, we forgot our reproductive choices were everybody else’s business. Silly them, they thought the vasectomy would mean we’d have no more kids.)

But if we had done any real planning, no, I don’t think I’d have chosen to have kids ten years apart. Like I wrote about last week (http://www.sisterserendip.com/2013/10/do-you-think-youll-have-more-or-are-you.html) sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in the never-ending vortex of raising very small children—a whirlpool of constantly wiping someone else’s ass or nose while perpetually cooking and washing things.  (And to think my oldest and youngest sisters were fourteen years apart—yikes Mom!) Sometimes I think it’d be nice to move on from small child land already and I grumble at the limits our family size and ages place on me.

But I also work around them—or work with them I guess you could say. I used to worry that I poured all of myself into my oldest two and that there was going to be nothing left for the younger three. I felt guilty that I never did any Mommy & Infant type classes with them. But I had to realize that my oldest also never had a gaggle of older siblings around and I never felt guilty about that. So while my youngest never did infant massage with me she did have loving older siblings (sort of) gently cradle her and feed her a bottle while I was making dinner. 

Back when I was getting into the groove of having five kids I felt badly about how little I was reading to the younger kids until it occurred to me that the older kids could do it. I pay them one marble per book* and they actually enjoy it, even using different voices for different characters. I know the little kids enjoy it too. Older siblings not only antagonize the younger ones (oh and they do), they also encourage and inspire them as well as occasionally help us to teach them (http://www.sisterserendip.com/2013/04/teach-rinse-repeat.html)

I try to make sure I am never asking too much of the older kids. I also make sure they get some special older kid treats and I always thank them for their help. (For the record, I have also done some bribing with candy. Hey, sometimes if Daddy-O is away on a school night, bedtime can get a little unruly.)

There are other advantages to having my kids spaced out the way they are. True, I’m the “old Mom” at preschool these days but I’m also the experienced Mom that can help the newbies figure out how we do preschool holiday parties or potty training. We’re only getting more and more experience on this whole parenting thing so hopefully by the time our youngest is a teenager there won’t be any surprises she can throw our way (hahahahaha).

Some of friends with kids only our older kids ages are beginning to lament not having young ones around anymore. Their homes are not overflowing with craft projects like they used to be. So while I’m currently drowning in them, I do know I will miss them one day. My friends’ big kids might not want to do things like go pumpkin picking with them anymore. Because our younger kids are so cute and enthusiastic, our older kids (as of yet) still like participating in these kinds of family outings. They feel special and important when the littlest ones want THEM for a hug or to be carried by. (So you can be sure we're going to milk that as long as we can.)

I know that one day my youngest will be teenagers and not wanting to make paintings for me or take bike rides to the park with us. But that’s okay because one of the biggest advantages to having my kids spread out like this means right about the time I’ll be missing all that chaos and activities, I could potentially be starting to get some grandkids. Maybe this ten year age gap was a good idea after all.

Five on Friday: Everyone's Favorite Not Very Funny Jokes

(These aren't comments that offend or annoy me, just dumb/silly "hardy har har" jokes that people love to make to me.)

1. (If I say I feel a little sick) Maybe you're pregnant!! Ha ha ha ha ha!!

2. I'll just leave my kid at your house, you'll never notice another one!! Ha ha ha ha ha!!

3. Oh, can't I just take this cute little one? You'll never notice one missing!! Ha ha ha ha ha!!

4. You must drink a lot huh? Ha ha ha ha ha!!

5. You must really like kids, huh?? Ha ha--oh wait, that one is true, I do really like kids, let me try that again...

5. Who do you guys think you are, Brad and Angelina?? Ha ha ha ha ha!!

The Right Things

I’ve told you a lot about the rude, insensitive or just plain nosy things strangers have asked us about our kids or their roots. I felt like I should be sure to acknowledge the nice things that people have done and said. But honestly I’m worried about starting this because I am not sure how much I have to say.

Oh, come on now. Lots of people aren’t jerks. Plenty of them eye us up on say, “God bless you.” Though I’m not a believer, I can appreciate the sentiment. I think what they’re trying to say is that they think I’m a good person and that they believe that when I die I will go to a happy place in the clouds where I get to eat all the Swedish Fish I want and never have to clean up someone's vomit-filled bed again. I’m down with that.

Lots of people say, “Your family is beautiful” and I know that means they not only think we could be the first family of seven to all make viable careers as supermodels, but that they think there’s something special about a big, blended family.

Some of them say that our kids are so lucky. This one’s a slippery slope. If they’re saying that they think our adopted kids are lucky because we “saved” them, they’re barking up the wrong tree. There is no Savior Complex going on over here; our kids don’t owe us anything. We are the lucky ones to have our lives enriched by these children and their extended biological family. So I choose to believe that they are saying that all of our kids are lucky because they have such fun, smart, loving (not to mention good-looking, see above) parents. In that case, why yes, they are all lucky children indeed.

Some people find out how many kids we have and just laugh out loud. Okay, it was only one person one time. He was someone I knew since I was a kid and hadn’t seen in years. I actually loved his reaction. It made me laugh too.

Some people see how many kids we have and tell us we’re crazy. Sure, many of our friends joke about how crazy we are (no really, it’s just a joke) but recently a stranger eyed us up and said, “You’re insane.”  (Which I think meant she’d really have liked to treat me to an exotic childfree vacation if only she could afford it.)

Some people do really nice things like waive enrollment fees for us because they admire adoptive families. Or because they think we’re really good looking, I’m not 100% sure.

Some people barely know us but stop by with a package of diapers when they hear we got a surprise baby that day. That was tops on the “right things to do” list.

Once in a while, someone I don't know inquires about their Birth Mother with love and compassion. It’s so rare that in seven years of parenting adopted children and countless comments from the public, I can tell you exactly how many times it has happened: twice.  The first time was at the doctor’s office when the nurse was taking one of the kid’s vitals. She herself was a mother that had lived through an ugly custody battle and fought accusations of neglect from her ex-husband. Maybe it was that experience that filled her with compassion for a struggling mother, maybe it’s just who she is. She looked right at me and asked how their Birth Mom was doing, if I knew. She was the first person to ever ask me about her in a nice way and it brought tears to my eyes.

The second time was when I was at the library with my four kids and brand-new baby A who had just been born and come home to us. While we were there, I ran into a woman who I would chat with once a year at our mutual friend’s Cookie Exchange. As soon as she saw the sweet infant nuzzled into the baby carrier, she came over to meet her. When she realized this was Birth Mom B's third baby to come to me (I'm not even sure if she realized it was B’s eighth baby to be taken away from her) she looked into my eyes and said with a quiver in her voice, “Someone has to help her!”

"Someone has to help her." 

No judgment, no prying questions about her drug use or sexual history. Person to person compassion, mother-to-mother concern. It was the single most humane moment I may have ever encountered, a moment in which I got to experience absolutely pure kindness and love. I found myself rendered speechless as the tears streamed down my face in the middle of the library.

I would gladly suffer through another one hundred strangers asking me "why doesn't someone just tie her tubes already?" to experience another moment of compassion like that. And based on our track record so far, I just might have to.