Bad adopter, BAD!

Question: for those of you who are parents, what do you think one of the most important jobs of parenting are? Would protecting your child(ren) be something that you feel is important for you? Do you think parents have an obligation to do so?

Earlier this year, my family and I took a long weekend and spent a few days in Wisconsin Dells for a sort of last hoorah before school started. It was a lovely weekend - the weather was sunny and warm, the parks weren't terribly crowded, and I got a great deal on lodging and passes to the Mt. Olympus theme park. (I love a good deal). Now I'm not as excited about going on roller coasters as I used to be, but the kids are at an age where they can ride without a parent so I have no problem finding a bench to rest my behind while they are having their fun. On this particular weekend, however, my happiness at sitting on that park bench and soaking up some warm sunshine while watching the ever-interesting parade of people going by was ruined. Absolutely, positively, ruined. And not just those few minutes; no the rest of the day, the rest of the trip, were destroyed by the actions of one person.

Let me explain.

The kids wanted to go on one of the many wooden roller coasters at the park. DH decided to ride with them, and I was more than happy to wait, and maybe enjoy some Dippin' Dots. So I found an empty bench near the exit and proceeded to mind my own business. It wasn't long before a woman sat on the other side of the bench, which of course I didn't care, she was trying to eat something but in my state of being preoccupied with minding my own business, I didn't really get a good look at what it was. So I was just kind of casually looking around, hoping she wouldn't want to drum up a conversation (I am an intensely shy person and HATE trying to hold conversations with complete strangers...HATE IT). But of course she did.

It started out innocently enough, she asked if I was waiting for my kids to which I replied a short yes, hoping she'd get the hint. But of course she went on, telling me how she hates wooden roller coasters and thinks they are SO unsafe and SO stupid when they can be built out of metal and don't they know that wood can rot? All the while I'm not looking at her, not encouraging her, but she persisted. I shrugged my shoulders - they (whoever that mythical "they" are) have been building wooden roller coasters for the last centruy and I'm sure there are safety regulations and inspections that are followed, but I didn't want to get into this discussion with her. I personally see no problem with wooden coasters; after all, doesn't metal rust?

So soon after her diatribe about wooden roller coasters, she waves and calls out to someone who I assume is probably her kid - I don't know, I wasn't really looking. Then she turns to me and says, "That was my son. He's 14. We got him out of a Russian orphanage."

Me - silence. I can feel my face turning red.

She goes on. "Yeah, he used to be SO clingy. When we got him home we would NOT let me out of his sight! I couldn't even go to the bathroom!"

Me - silence.

Lady: "But lately he's been getting better, like now he's actually going on the roller coaster without me. He's becoming more independent which is kind of good, I guess."

Me - crickets.

Lady: "But he used to be so bad. They say the teenage years are hard but I think the preteen years are worse. I mean he was so BAD. We had to call the police on him a few times, he was just awful!"

At this point I was livid, but I was just so shocked and stunned that this woman was TELLING ME THIS. What. the. fuck!!

I mean, first of all, what is the purpose of announcing to a complete stranger that you "got him" from a Russian orphanage? Attention whoring much? And then, THEN, to go on and tell this complete stranger how completely bad and awful this kid is and was? Honestly??

I really wish I had had the wherewithall to respond to this twit. I wish my brain didn't freeze up in these situations rendering me unable to barely breathe, let alone give this woman a piece of my mind. I WISH I could go back and say to her, "What is wrong with you?? You are his MOTHER. You are supposed to PROTECT him, not exploit and use him to - what - try to get a little praise or sympathy from a COMPLETE FUCKING STRANGER!" And I'd go on to tell her that as an adopted person, I found her to be obnoxious, disgusting, rude, and a horrible awful person. I'd then wait until her poor little son got off the roller coaster and gave him my condolences on being stuck with such a monster for a "mother."

But of course, I said nothing, and being that my family got off the coaster before her kid did, I got up and got away from her as fast as I could, without a word.

It still gnaws at me to this day though.

If this woman happens across this blog? I want you to know that you disgust me. I want you do know that not ONLY will I not give you praise for what you seem to perceive in your mind as being some sort of saint, but I think you are the scum of the earth for using that boy and his very personal life circumstances for your own narcissism. And I can't believe this shit is STILL bothering me. I just feel so horrible for that innocent little boy.

And yes, I know, sometimes kids adopted from Russian orphanages suffer from RAD and he probably did exhibit some "bad" behavior and yadda yadda yadda, but that is not the point here. The POINT, my friends, is that she USED this to try to GAIN some paltry adoration from someone who has NO BUSINESS knowing what happened to that child. She EXPLOITED him to her benefit. Her ONLY goal here was to try to get me to respond in a way that would make her feel heroic for having to deal with it THAT is the point. As a mother, it is her JOB to protect him, and not flaunt his pain for personal gain.

On being "chosen"

A lot of people like to adoptees that we're special; that we were "chosen" and should therefore feel really good and blessed and happy. It seems to be a favorite (right after "you could have been aborted," which if you think of it, how does one go from being a worthless and unwanted thing to be gotten rid of to being special and chosen in one breath? Talk about a mind fuck). I know I heard it, I think pretty much all of my adoptee friends have heard it too.

As a young child I really used to buy into it too. I would imagine my parents driving to the adoption agency, their faces lit up with these huge grins of anticipation, their hearts pounding as they arrived at the place where they would CHOOSE THEIR BABY. I pictured a big room filled with other adoptive parents just like mine, and soon a line of ladies would come from an inconspicuous wooden door off in the corner, each one smiling brightly as they each carried a plump and adorable baby dressed in white cotton dresses with eyelet trim. These babies would then be passed around the room, from adoptive parent to adoptive parent, and whoever was holding the baby when she stopped crying would "choose" that baby and they'd adopt her and go live happily ever after.

I had an active imagination as a child.

Chosen...was I chosen?

My amom told me a story one time that before they adopted me, they had received a call from the adoption agency, telling them that a baby girl was available for adoption. She was everything that they had hoped for...except for one dark stain on her record, her mother had been on drugs. (Insert audible gasping in of breath). So my parents in all their parental wisdom decided NOT to take that particular baby. Which leads me to wonder; what if they had? What if they DID adopt this little girl? Then there'd be somebody ELSE sitting here in my chair, with my name and all my memories and living MY life. Who, then, would I have become? Where would I be? What would my name be? What kind of life would I be living?

For I sure as heck wouldn't be who I am today.

My parents waited until the NEXT little girl was available for adoption - mois - and the rest is history. But I don't think of it as being so much chosen as just being the next available baby for the people at the top of the list. They didn't come into a room and select me from a group of other babies. They didn't pass me around and keep me because I stopped crying for them. No, I am who I am because of simple logistics.

I wonder about that little baby that was passed up. Where is she now? WHO is she now? Did she get as good of parents as I did, or was she abused and mistreated? Does she know she came *this close* to being ME? If she went to the people who were next on the list after my parents, would I have went to them if she had been chosen by mine?

God it is such a mind fuck.

Hi.

So I have been pulled back into the blogging world. I really haven't had a lot to say for the last year or so, I guess life and work and everything with it has consumed my time and my thoughts, but all the fuss that has arisen over a little letter I wrote has got me to thinking and spurred me to action. I figured since a lot of other people are posting it, I might as well too, and try to address the comments on my own blog instead of everbody elses. (Sorry, iadoptee!)

So I will post my letter on a separate page here at the Cabbage Patch. And, hopefully, I will find the time and inspiration to blog again. I've kind of missed it anyway!

Holiday Time

I love this time of year. I really, really do. A lot of people, and I mean a LOT of people, grumble and groan and complain about the holidays but to me it has always been an exciting time, a time I look forward to. Of course I have people I miss this time of year and most of the time my holiday gatherings don't measure up to the Hollywood standard of what a real family Christmas should be, but nevertheless, I just can't help myself. Something about the snow, the twinkly lights, and yes, even shopping for those crappy toys for the kids just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

I always had a blast helping my mom set up the fake tree and putting out the chintzy old decorations. Some of these things were ancient...and a few have survived still, to this day, like the sweet little Christmas angel (with almost no hair left on her head) who still graces the top of the tree, instead of some flashing tinselly star.

I remember my brothers carefully peeling the tape on their presents to take a peek, and me getting all scared that we would ALL get in trouble for it. They did a lot of things to get in trouble for, fortunately I was not typically included in the punishment.

I remember one year my mom getting my dad a pair of swimming trunks for Christmas, and upon making him try them on, she laughed and laughed so hard she literally peed. My dad was so stoic and Norwegian, but he endured the humiliation for the woman he loved. (and the amusement of the kids, who didn't know which was funnier...dad in the swimsuit or mom pissing herself?)

And now I am making new memories, that hopefully my kids will carry with them into their adult years. I want this time of year to hold the same magic for them as it does for me. So far, I think I've done a pretty ok job. This year they wanted to strap the christmas tree to the roof of the car (ala Lampoon's Christmas Vacation) because they think that's about the funniest thing in the world, so we did, although it wasn't a station wagon but DH's "Barbie Jeep" Kia, affectionately named the Family Truckster.

And yes I miss my mom and dad this time of year. Yes, I miss what I could have had with my original family. But at least for the next few weeks, it's not going to bring me down. Because for all that I have lost, I have so much more in the faces of two little bratlings and a man who has stuck with me through all my bullshit.

So, if you celebrate it, Merry Christmas. If you don't, then happy-whatever-you-do-celebrate or just wishing you happiness if you don't celebrate anything. All in all, I hope everyone is safe, loved, and at peace.

The Christmas Song

Why do I do this?

I've had an ex boyfriend on my mind for a long, long time now. Well, not just an ex but my first ex, he was my first everything. But he's not on my mind in a way that most people would think; I've been thinking of his lost sister.

Every time a new female member, around the age of 43-46, joins the forum I get a little twinge of excitement. Is this her? Is this the girl his parents gave up before they were married? I have this dream of finding her and reuniting her with the family. A great family, and one that misses her very much.

But why? Why do I care so much? It's been over 20 years since I dated D, and I left him pretty devastated when I broke it off. His parents were, no are, awesome. I miss his mom even to this day, she was just the coolest person I ever met. And she misses her daughter soooooo much. I bring it up to her from time to time, when we happen to bump into one another; I ask if she's started looking yet, offer to help with all my adoptee stalker super powers, and every time the tears start welling up in her eyes. She feels like it's not her place.

So I dream of finding this woman. Hell I wish I WAS her (although, that would be kinda gross because then I would have lost my virginity to my brother) but that is one family that I know would not get all weird on her if they ever do find one another. D would not flake out on her like my nmom did to me; her little brothers would not get all jealous or toddlerish or freakish. They all know she's out there and would love to have her back in the family someday.

So, any adopted women out there, in their early to mid 40's, born in South (or was it North??) Dakota, make yourselves known. Your nparents got married, had 3 more children (all boys, your brothers!), and are still together to this day. Your brothers all have this fantastic wit and sense of humor (the one thing I miss most about D, the humor he found in such random things), they are down to earth and normal, and miss you very much.

Even if I play no part in it, I would love to see this happen. I know it's not even remotely my place, but I feel I at least owe it to D for breaking his heart, and to his mom for just being the mom I always wished I could have.

Family Envy

We took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese this weekend. No particular reason, we just haven't been there in ages and the kids love it. And it's nice to just be able to sit back while the kids can run wild, and just be kids for a while.

While we were sitting there, among the hundreds of other parents & families and kids running wild, a family was seated next to us. They were celebrating a birthday for one of the kids, and I found myself completely and totally crushing on this group of people.

I mean, they could have stepped right out of some feel-good family oriented television show, maybe even a sit-com, they were just that perfect. Now I can't be sure of how they were all related but it looked like Grandma was there, three women who were probably her daughters, and a plethora of kids. And the adults were all totally into the kids, everyone was holding the littlest ones, everyone was completely involved in these children, and you couldn't even tell whose kids were whose because everyone expended the same amount of love and attention to them. And there were probably about 10 of them, from the ages of about 1 to probably early teens.

And I just couldn't take my eyes off them. I found myself wishing I could be in that family, that these women could be my sister or aunt, that I could love and be loved the way all those kids were.

It made me sad for what I have lost - my n-family, who are exactly like this, I could have and SHOULD have been raised in this type of close family; and for the adoptive family I was raised in who never gave a hug, never cared about family, who only saw each other at weddings or funerals and even then it was strained, you could tell nobody gave a crap about anybody else.

I'm glad there are families like this out there. I wish more families WERE like this. And I bet, that if one of those ladies had gotten pregnant at 15 or 18 or under any less than favorable circumstance, that that particular family would never, ever let that baby go. Adoption would NEVER be an option.

I guess that's where my n-family got it wrong.

Family? What family?

Have you ever looked at pictures of your family and had the painful realization that you will never BE a part of that family?

Sometimes I just want to un-friend all my n-family members from facebook. They are such a close, happy family who truly enjoy each others company and are always getting together. They are involved in each others lives. And they like to post pictures, which I love to see, but at the same time, it's like a huge kick in the gut.

I never had that with my adoptive family. They all pretty much hated each other, and the ones who didn't hate one another, well, just had a sort of mild tolerance for each other. So needless to say, I saw my 1st cousins about 6 times in my life, usually at a funeral or a wedding. There are countless 2nd- and beyond type cousins and extended family that I have NEVER met. And never will. Well, not that they even consider me a part of this family either, because being adopted I am not blood and therefore subject to suspicion.

I should have been raised with the people who are like me. I needed that. Still do! All I have now are my kids, my in-laws, and two a-brothers who could care less if I was alive. Well okay to be fair, I suppose they'd care if I died, but the simple fact that I am living is enough for them.

And I am really giving up on all my grand illusions about my mother. Perhaps the last of the fog is slipping away, or perhaps I'm moving through the next "stage" so to speak. The ONE person who should care about me and my well-being, the ONE person who is supposed to love you, obviously could care less. She has been abandoning me over and over, and I have let her. Why do I keep setting myself up for this pain and frustration?

I could never do that to my kids. But then again I would never abandon my children to adoption in the first place. No way, no how, you'd have to pry them from my stiff dead arms. And then I'd come back and haunt the adopters.

I guess I'll leave my mother to her beloved anal jerk of a husband, that is where her happiness truly lies, and try to find some sort of contentment. But I really just wish adoption had never happened to me. Oh what it would be like to be normal.