The Adventures of Adoption and Parenthood

Men are dropping like flies. Powerful men. Sinking like Jimmy Hoffa in cement boots. Men are scared. Can I complement a woman? Can I talk to a woman? What is it safe to say? What if I want to ask her out? Can I do that? Pardon us when we don't have much sympathy for your plight. Women have been living this life for millennia. We have been sold into marriage at incredibly young ages. We have been sex slaves. We have been forced to have babies by the men who bought us. We have been forced to abort babies by the men who bought us. We have been beaten and told to obey. We have died in child birth. We have died from abuse. We have lived through forced marriages. We have lived through rapes. We survived the sex trade. We have lived through childbirth. We have lived with barren wombs. We have been the fodder for men's wet dreams. We have been gawked at. We have been groped. We have been harassed. We have been objectified. Women are kept in a constant state of fear. Be aware of you

Prima: Mom, you have told me this before and I didn't really listen. But I learned that when I stop being mean to Segunda and do nice things for her I feel really good. Me: What makes you say that? Prima: Well, you know how I was nice to her most of the weekend right? And then I started flicking her and noticed that I started to feel really bad. Then when I stopped something wonderful happened. Me: Wow. What happened? Prima: I started to feel good about myself and I started to feel like I was a good person. Me: That's really impressive Prima. That's great personal growth. You know something. I really admire you and look up to you. Prima: I'm supposed to admire you. Me: Well, there is no rule that you have to admire your parents. But it can go both ways. You are a really good person and you very often make really wise decisions. You have amazing self control and you think about others a lot. You pay attention to how you feel in situations and you learn from it.

My babies have been very clingy lately. I understand why Prima is - her Gotcha Day is November 22. This is always a rocky time of year for our girl. She came to us quiet and watchful. Immediately after her first bottle with us, and a lullaby, she went to sleep and slept through the night. She retreated to sleep a lot in the first days. She is quick to cry right now and needs me to hold her a lot. I took her to breakfast yesterday just the two of us. And there we were in line: me with a 54 pound 8-year old on my hip and she was very relaxed as I held her in that line. Her teacher says that she is very kind to her classmates. There is a child in her class on the autism spectrum and she just quietly helps him with his daily agenda. The teacher says it was so sly that she had no idea who was doing it. She finally asked him and Prima fessed up. Her teacher said she is helping him for the all the right reasons and none of them are for accolades. Although I'm giving her some right here

When you decide to adopt a child in the state of Colorado (and I think the Hague now requires it too) you have to take a certain number of training classes. We took more than the required amount so that we were prepared for our baby to struggle to attach, prepared for her to have public meltdowns, prepared to help her navigate the world of racism and injustice ... but you know what? No amount of classes or books really prepares you for what you may face. I was not prepared for the anxiety my 8-year old faces every day. I was not prepared for the endless verbal loops she gets in - it's like her brain is on a hamster wheel. I was not prepared for her perfectionism. I was not prepared for her to take every thing so seriously. If I have to hear one more time about the kid who told her "zero voices" in the hall at school somewhere around mid-year, my head just might explode. I was not prepared for her to feel three years later that her little sister is "ruining my life.

Parenting as an adoptive mother is an awesome responsibility. It’s not just society looking over my shoulder. I have women half a world away who will be keenly interested in the well being of their children. I feel the never ceasing weight of parenting another woman’s child, and the weight of my own measureless love for my children. My daughters are mine through and through, but they were born to other women. This comes with an undeniable compulsion to do everything right. My entire body is a taut guitar string just waiting to snap. Everyday I hold them, nurture them, go to work, cook, and tuck them in at night. There is often an overwhelming sense of frustration that I’m somehow messing it up. When they scream at me that they won’t eat and I remove them from the room, I ask myself is this right? Is it okay to remove them from the table? Is this attachment parenting ? When I get calls from the school that one had a 45 minute meltdown and they didn’t know what to do, the pressure b

On Monday, I took the kids to the gym after work and school and I walked around the track for 25 minutes, then did some arm machines. My goal here is to increase stamina and be healthy enough to help Segunda as she gets older and needs help with some physical activities. I did okay. We came home to a crockpot pork chop dinner for which husband made spaghetti. Normal night after that of homework, bedtime reading, injection for Segunda, etc. Tonight, I went back to the gym after work and school and I walked around the track for ... 20 minutes. Less time than Monday. As I walked the track, staring at myself in the mirror, I took stock of the pain and where it was coming from. I watched my ever-widening thighs approach themselves in the mirror before rounding the track away from the mirror, my "workout" pants stretched taut over them. My hips were aching but it felt a little like sore muscles, so I soldiered on. Oddly my shoulders began to hurt. I made sure they were down

Motherhood is a lonely business. Your babies want you when they are hurting. They want you when they are hungry. They want you when they are tired. They want you when they are angry. You're their source of succor. You're probably your partner's source of succor too. And some of you, like me, serve that role at work also and for many of your friends. It is my greatest desire to make a helpful difference in everyone's lives. I'm exhausted and I'm lonely. After the lights are out, I lay in my bed, with my kids sleeping beside me, watching Gilmore Girls on my tiny iPhone screen just trying to get a little bit of relief from the daily duties that are sometimes drudgery, sometimes frustrating, sometimes painful. At lunch during the week, I juggle calendars and create "to do" lists and "don't forget" lists. Register Segunda for kindergarten, put Prima's sparring bag in the car (don't forget the bo staff), whoops Segunda has swimm