adoption, Uncategorized

31 days to talk about (adoptive) mommyhood

“The Nesting Place” is doing a 31 days series. For 31 days she’s challenging us to write a post daily on one subject.  I thought it would be a fun exercise and might help me catch up on the loads of stories and thoughts rattling around my brain about our amazing son and being an adoptive mom.

Let the games begin…

31 days

  1. tales from a trans-racial family at target
  2. of trees and foster mothers
  3. we see his face, part 5: together (a letter to my son)
  4. we see his face, part 6: the next day
  5. picture post: a baby, a hat, and a tent
  6. cuteness flashback picture post: sailor mouth
  7. dirty mirrors
  8. family and the things I don’t write about
  9. baby k
  10. morning memories
  11. confession
  12. conversations that made me laugh
  13. cuteness flashback picture post: baby on a couch
  14. happy
  15. dates, memories, and the sacrifice of trees
  16. we’re the adults now right?
  17. keep calm… adoption style
  18. dishwasher
  19. we loved you before we knew you
  20. about nat
  21. cuteness flashback picture post: nine months ago
  22. half a lifetime
  23. what did mommy say when she saw your picture?
  24. why do you ask (and why i wish they wouldn’t)
  25. growing up
  26. fragile

Dr Who meets Mr Toddler

The music swelled, our heroes raised their weapons, the film speed slowed to half, mouths opened, muscles tensed, they charged…

And the screen went blank.

Our little stinker found the power button to the X-box at the most perfect moment in all of time and space.  We laughed our heads off and he couldn’t have been more pleased.  So the next day I grabbed a picture of him trying to do it again, because perfect timing should always be remembered.


{{That’s his laptop in case you were wondering.  He gets to pound on it to his heart’s content. – From July}}

adoption related seriousness

storks and airplanes

I don’t feel the need to say I love my kid like he was my own flesh and blood.  The truth is I love him like he was adopted into my family.

See, I don’t believe that blood is the all holy grail that everything must be compared to.  I don’t feel the need to somehow prove that we’re as viable a family as those who share a biological code.  I don’t need to compare my love to that of genetically linked parents and children.

We’re a trans-racial adoptive family and I’m freaking proud of it.  I’m not going to compare it to a genetic family because it doesn’t need to be compared.  It’s strong enough to stand on its own – proud and sure and waving its weird flag high.  Nothing wrong with being different, nothing wrong with wanting this family and no other.

And I’m talking about me here, my feelings and emotions as an adoptive mother.  I don’t claim and won’t claim to speak for my child.  Someday he’ll have to make the decision of what family means to him.  I hope his genetic family is important to him, I hope his adoptive family is important to him.  I hope one day he can wrap his brain around the complexity, the beauty, and the pain that is his past and his present.  I hope one day he decides for himself who he is and wants to be and  that he’s proud of that person  And that day might not come without some anger towards me and his father, I’m okay with that.  Because I chose this.  I chose this life.  He didn’t.

But in the meantime until that day comes, and he ventures off through the thoughts and questions that are the rite of passage to becoming an adult member of this human race, I’m going to be creating a home life that says “This is us, and we’re okay. Some days we’re even fabulous.  None of us share a genetic link and we’re good with that.  We share a different bond, and it’s powerful.”

And while it makes me a hypocrite, if someday I hear someone say “I love this kid I just birthed like I adopted him” I’m going to smile and think “that’s some strong love there.”

cave paintings of the soul, gushing

random memory dump

When I’m rocking Thane to sleep for naps (Daddy does nighttime duty) my mind replays images and memories and I think – I should write that down! And then I don’t, and the next time I sit and rock they come back again.  They make me happy.  So even though I’m risking the well known “fact” that once I write something down it gets erased from my mind, here’s some recent ones along with some pictures from June/July I never posted.

  • I think Thane’s starting to figure out jokes.  Awhile ago he deliberately hid down the stairs and then popped up to say hi to me, laughing his head off all the while.  Makes it hard to keep a straight face while he’s “hiding”.  Then, a few weeks later he went outside to his water table, stuck his hands in the water and came back and put them on my face. I gave him a kiss and went back to my reading.  He looked at his hands, looked at me and put them back on my face. Couldn’t figure out what he wanted his Daddy asked if I usually jumped when he put something cold on me.  So I “screamed” and jumped and Thane looked mighty pleased with himself and went back out to get his hands wet again.  Little stinker.


  • In the car sometimes I’ll say “I love you teddy bear” (one of his approx four hundred nicknames) and one day he put up his little hand and I reached back to hold it.  Not long, he just wanted a little squeeze. But it’s moments like that I think my heart is going to stop because I love this kid so much.


  • When he starts to get quiet while I’m in the kitchen working and he’s wandered off somewhere all I have to say is “patty cake, patty cake…” and he’ll start clapping his hands. Makes him easier to find.  It’s like a tracking device I tell you.

for the blog - delete later5

  • Pushing the grocery cart is a new favorite thing.  He stands between my feet and pushes through the whole store while I guide it.  I like the grins on people’s faces when they catch sight of his little self, acting all big and important.  I’m not so fond of the look on people’s faces when I have to stop the cart to look for something and he does what we refer to as his pterodactyl screech.  But on the bright side it gives me a chance to quote Princess Bride “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”  There’s also some empathy and understanding thrown in, but those don’t make as good a story now do they?