I've Moved!

You can find my new blog at www.rippedjeansandbifocals.com

The new blog is still "under construction" and is in the final stages of tweaking.  Expect the first post in a week or so. 

My original "blogger" blog (this one) will still be active & searchable but all of the new posts & pics will be on the new site. 

See you there!

a mother of a day...

Happy Mother’s Day (apostrophe optional, I hear there has been some debate over that lately…whatever).  I hope all you mommies out there have a fabulous day. 

This day hasn’t always been easy for me. 

Mother’s Day by the Numbers:

21 – The number of mother’s days I’ve celebrated as a mom.

3 – The number of people that call me mom.

1 – The number of times I’ve celebrated this day with all of my kids together. 

4 – The number of mother’s days I have spent without my kids. 

2 – The number of children born to other women who call me mom. 

So, I’m a seasoned mom.  I’ve been a mother almost half my life.  I should feel like I’m great at something I’ve been doing for so long, but I don’t always feel like I really know what I’m doing.  I have my days when I think “I’ve so got this” and I have my days when the words “parenting fail” goes through my head a dozen times.  I’m winging it.

Today was my first mother’s day as a no kidding mother of three.  All of my kids were home, which was beyond awesome.  There were cards.  There were presents.  There was brunch.  I didn’t have to clean up any major messes and there weren’t any meltdowns that registered on the Richter scale (although Sissy and I had a tense moment when we road tested the new electric wine opener).  Best. Gift. Ever.

The last few Mother’s Days haven’t been filled with joy for me.  Don’t get me wrong, they’ve been nice, but the empty place at the table was something that didn’t let me fully appreciate the good things in front of me. 

My 2011 and 2012 Mother’s Days were spent waiting for Doodlebug to come home.  We were in the very early stages of adoption in 2011 and very close to the end of the process in 2012.  Sissy was still in the Midwest, so it was just Hubs and I.  In 2013, we had both Sissy and Doodlebug home and we were waiting for final approval from China for Peanut’s adoption.  Today, they’re all at home and under one roof and my heart is full.  My house is loud and there is a lot more laundry but my heart is full. 

There is a quote from Jody Landers that many women who have come to motherhood through adoption can identify with: 

“Children born to another woman call me ‘mom’.  The depth of that tragedy and the magnitude of that privilege are not lost on me”. 

I think about Sissy and the first time I met her every Mother’s Day.  She is my first, my special kid that gave me the title of “mom”.  Naturally, I think of my mom on Mother’s Day and wish we lived closer so we could celebrate this day together. 

But I also think of two other women that I have never set eyes on.  I don’t know their names.  I don’t know what they look like, but I see their beauty in the shining eyes and the laughter of my boys. 

These two women in China who chose life for their children and then chose not to parent them have given me an incredible gift.  I don’t know if May 11th is a day to celebrate in China.  I don’t know if this is a day that is bittersweet for these two women.  Maybe all days are bittersweet…maybe there isn’t a day that goes by where these women don’t wonder if their baby boys are safe.  If they are loved. 

I wonder if these two birth mothers need peace.  If they do, I wish I could provide it.  While their choices must have been agonizing, I would like them to find comfort in the fact that these boys have brought me a lot of joy.  I can’t put myself in their position, but I am very thankful for these two women and will think of them and celebrate them every Mother’s Day for as long as I live. 

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the mommies out there – most especially to my mom, Sharon, who gave me life and who continues to give me encouragement and inspiration. 

Happy Mother’s Day to mommies who are struggling, who are in hard places right now.  May you find the grace, wisdom and patience to get ‘er done. 

Happy Mother’s Day to mommies who wait.  I have met so many ahhh-maze-inggg adoptive mommies who have traveled the same roads to motherhood as I have.  It is hard.  It is bittersweet.  It is rewarding.  It is different.  It is all of that stuff in ways that most people don’t understand.  For those who wait, I hope this is your last Mother’s Day waiting and that you find some way to experience the joy that is in front of you (P.S. you might have to look hard to find it). 

For those who are struggling to have children or have lost children…I hope you find peace and hope.  I know this day is a struggle for you and hope you find the strength to see it through and the grace not to kick the people who make tacky comments in the shins (although if you do, I’m totally in your corner). 

I have had a lot of titles over the years.  Job titles.  Mrs.  President of this or secretary of that.  Hall monitor, copier monitor, homework monitor.  The one I savor the most is “so and so’s mommy”.  As it should be. 

All is right with the world over here in Jillville.  Blessings to all of you mommies out there. 

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Proud to be...Gluten Free !

Well no, not really.  Not me. But it does sound catchy, huh?  Chant it a few times.  You'll see. 

I made a cake without flour.  And, it was ahh-maze-ingggg.  I know the "A" word is totally overused right now.  But this is the only word I can use to describe this cake. 

I eat better these days.  I can eat everything, I like everything and I have no moral reservations about eating stuff that used to have a face.  That said, I eat much less dairy, meat and processed foods than I did a year ago. And, I feel better for it. 

Someone posted in one of my adoption groups about how yummy this flourless cake was and I virtually rolled my virtual eyes.  Cake without flour?  Whatever.  But, since I like to eat healthy and since I really like desert...I asked for the recipe. 

I am not sure if this cake had a name, but I'm giving it one.  It is called Shannon's Chocolate Deliciousness.  Shannon is the person who gave me the recipe...I don't know her, but based on this freaking awesome cake, we can all only assume that she is really awesome. 

Ingredients:  4 oz bitter chocolate, 3/4 cup sugar, 1/2 cup cocoa, 3 beaten eggs, and 1 stick unsalted butter. 

That's 5 ingredients, people.  You probably have this stuff in your pantry now. Run...run to the kitchen and... 

Melt the butter and chocolate in a saucepan over low heat. 

Mix the sugar and cocoa.  Fold in the chocolate mixture and add the eggs.  Stir. 

Fold in to a greased 8 inch cake pan and cook at a preheated 325 oven for 25 minutes (don't overcook). 

We had ours with powdered sugar and raspberries.  I started making this AFTER we finished dinner and we were all having cake within the hour.  So easy and yummy.  This desert screams for a glass of milk.  If you are not at least a little bit of a dark chocolate fan, this might not be your thing.  The desert is dense, rich and fudgy.  A little goes a long way.  I would totally take this to a potluck. With a little attention to the garnish, it looks really nice. 

Is this diet cake? Hello?  Did you pay attention to the words "butter" and "sugar"?  Is this "Paleo?"  I have no idea what "Paleo" means in relation to eating...I have mental images of knuckle dragging when I read that.  If you don't like/can't have flour or, if you're like me and are just a little bit curious...try this. This totally passes the "I would serve this to someone I wanted to impress" litmus test. 

Peppa Mania, Being Mummy Pig and Bratty Next Door Diners

To say my kids love Peppa Pig is an understatement.  Peppa Pig is a British cartoon about a family of pigs.  The main character is a pig named Peppa (duh).  The episodes are short and show some sort of life lessons. I don’t hate it. 
 

Doodlebug and Peanut say Peppa Pig is “their favorite”.  It is all they ever want to watch, and amazingly, they both agree on this.  Unity in TV viewing never existed in our house before Peppa rolled in.  Based on that alone, I am okay with the Peppa love we have going on over here.  The kids are cray cray crazy for Peppa.  They talk about going to Peppa’s house and her being their friend. 

I started looking at Peppa stuff online.  Doodlebug has a birthday soon and I thought I’d look for some “non girly” Peppaphanalia.  What did I find?  Peppa Pig World!  Yes, really. 

An easy three hour drive south of us Peppa Pig World (PPW from here on out, people) is inside Paulson’s Family Fun Park (near Salisbury).  We decided on short notice to go, although looking back, we should used it more as a dangling carrot.  Oh, the mileage I could have gotten from “stop that now or no Peppa’s house”. 

We booked a hotel in the burbs of Salisbury, threw a few things in a bag and loaded up.  We have done a few road trips with the boys and our rule is to sleep over if the drive is more than 2 hours each way.    

Picking up and going for a weekend with the boys has been surprisingly easy.  Simple rules: snacks + electronic entertainment = occupied kids = happy hubs in the driver’s seat.  Not fool-proof but close. 

We got to PPW at 1:30 PM.  The rides close at 5:30, so we thought that was plenty of time.  Although they usually snooze in the car, they didn’t on this trip.  They were grouchy later but it was worth it.  For the 4 of us, it cost about $70, which I thought was a lot (boys were free).  When we went in the park, we learned that Peppa and George (Peppa’s little bro) would be making a personal appearance at Madame Gazelle’s Schoolhouse in an hour’s time.  We decided to check out the 4D show while we waited.  We queued up with about a gazillion Brownies (the little girl kind).  I guess it was Brownie day - they were EVERYWHERE.  No matter what we did, the hoard of little girls surrounded us.  One little snot elbowed me and hit Peanut in the head with her backpack in the race to get a seat.  I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose, so I refrained from tripping her.

The 4D show was great – a newer cinema with lots of special effects.  Doodlebug loved it and laughed his head off.  Peanut, not so much.  He hopped on my lap after the first 30 seconds.  No requests to leave, but he held on pretty tight. 

We got to Madame Gazelle’s Schoolhouse early and got prime real estate.  Peppa and George (think big fuzzy Disney characters) came out and did the things big fuzzy cartoon characters do.  Doodlebug went nuts and wanted as close to the action as possible.  Peanut wanted the hell out of there.  Once he hung back and watched the other kids hug and high five the giant fuzzy pigs, he got brave enough to give George a hug, pat his nose and say “George, my best friend”.  It was really cute. 

Doodlebug Zack and I with Peppa (Michelle, this is for you!) 

Peanut being brave enough to touch George Pig's nose - this was a pretty big deal for him.  He is very timid with this sort of stuff and after hanging back for a bit, he decided he wanted to approach the big fuzzy animals. 

Family of Pigs

 

 

We spent the rest of the afternoon riding kiddie rides.  My favorite was this really weird dinosaur ride:

This isn’t us; I found this pic online.  This was a photo ride, but the collection point was so hosed up  & we didn’t see our picture.  It was great fun, but this would never fly in the USA.  No belts or straps to hold the riders on this slippery plastic dino.  Not that it’s high up or very fast, but still…I couldn’t help but wonder how many kids slide off daily.  You can't tell from the picture, but the ride rocks back & forth.  I didn’t get the connection between the garden plots and volcanos that made up the background scenery.  “Big Bang Theory” meets “Green Acres”.  Weird, but in a good way. 

I could have gone crazy shopping in the Peppa store and probably would have if Hubs hadn’t been there.  He doesn’t give me a hard time about retail love but I buy less stuff if my purchases are immediately visible – yes, I bring my bags in when he’s occupied and yes, I say: “oh this?  Bought it ages ago, hon.” Like no one else does that. 

I got the boys little beanie baby George Pig toys (Peppa looked too much like a doll and Hubs would have freaked), a puzzle, bath toys, a book, and “George Pig” undies (way cute).  They have a whole line of boy’s clothes that was seriously delicious and I had trouble restraining myself.  I did not, however, have difficulty passing up the hot pink tee sporting the phrase “Mummy Pig.”  Doodlebug called me that one time and I did not react well. There was a “Yummy Mummy” nightie but it had a giant silk screen pig face…well, I just couldn’t.   I might be a yummy mummy, but the pig face?  Uh, no. 

The boys were predictably devastated when we had to leave.  They cried all the way to the car.  Peppa Pig World – success. 

 

Here is the website:
http://peppapigworld.co.uk/
For those living in my neck of the woods, I am not sure I’d make the drive for this alone if your kids aren’t Peppa fans.  There are other amusement parks closer but there is a wealth of things to do in the Salisbury area and it is one of the prettier areas of England I’ve been in. 

We drove to our planned stop for the night in the burbs of Salisbury.  We stayed at a Premier Inn, which is probably slightly less fancy than Holiday Inn Express.  It was a typical middle class hotel – clean and reasonably comfortable.  We dropped our bags off and went to the pub next door to grab dinner. 

In England, most pubs (short for public house) serve food, just in case you have a mental picture of Hubs and I hanging out at the bar with the littles.  Most have dining areas separate from the bar and many have “family hours” or “family sections”.  Most pubs have typical English fare (fish and chips, steak and ale pie, sausage and mash).

We were seated next to THE WORST KIDS EVER.  Our table for 4 was in an alcove with a windowed partition between our table and the next.  There was a group of  8 people seated next to us which included 2 kids – I’d guess them to be about 5.  The kids took turns running in to our area, banging on the window and yelling.  The first time, I thought “no big deal…kids do that sort of stuff”.  I full expected the adults on the other side of the window to give those kids the what for. 

Nope.  I could plainly see the adults noticed…but they didn’t react.  This was a nice place.  On terms that most of the people who read my blog can relate to, it was Olive Garden nice.  

My kids are well behaved in a restaurant.  Yes, we normally feed them a snack before we go out, and yes, we let them play with their tablets while we wait.  We don’t go out to eat a ton, but  often enough so they understand the difference between a sit down restaurant and McD’s.  My little overstimulated and undernapped angels were watching these beasts running around our table with interest.  They were sitting quietly with their tablets and juice boxes, but I could see the wheels turning in their heads. 

I did what most of you would do:  I gave our neighbors the head nod toward their little darlings…“hello…do you see where your kids are”  A polite, nonverbal “your kid is in my space”.  Crickets.  Me being me, I addressed the child.  “Little boy, go back to your table”.  I guess I was speaking Martian because he carried on beating the now slimy fingerprinted glass between our tables.  The parents could not have been less interested. 

Rather than get in to an “excuse me, control your kid” pissing match with a group that looked like they belonged on Jersey Shore UK style, we asked our server to move us and she did.  I don’t recall ever requesting to move tables because of another diner causing a disturbance – and certainly not while dining with young kids myself.  I am generally very tolerant of children.  I have active boys and while they are well behaved (most of the time) in public, they are not perfect.  They are frequently loud.  Sometimes they whine and spill stuff. Shocking. 

These kids were beasts.  Snookie and The Situation should have stuck with the UK equivalent of Chuck E. Cheese (whatever that might be).  We passed their table on the way to the potty (they had left) and it looked like a war zone.    

Delish dinner – I had salmon risotto, Hubs had chicken mushroom pie and the boys had spaghetti.  We are all starving and enjoyed the meal.  We ordered strawberry sundaes for desert.  We got vanilla ice cream with 3 ramekins of toppings ranging from sprinkles to bits of really yummy dark chocolate (but not a strawberry in sight). 

We tucked in to our hotel room.  Peanut crashed right away while Doodles laughed his head off at a British comedian on TV.  This guy was seriously not funny but every time he heard the canned laughter, Doodles would go NUTS. 

After breakfast the next day (super delish with veggie sausage, even!) we visited Salisbury Cathedral, which I enjoyed.  I would not recommend it with two little dudes who want to run and climb all over everything.  Just sayin’. Hubs was off taking pictures and I stopped to admire some stained glass…I looked up and the boys were trying to climb on some long-dead bishop’s tomb.  We saw a copy of the Magna Carta, zealously guarded by an old guy wearing a green “I’m a volunteer” sash.  He was clearly there to enforce the “no photography” rule.  I was so tempted to whip out the camera – I could have taken him. Fo Sho. 

 

The boys slept most of the way home.  We stopped for Papa John’s pizza, which I haven’t had in over 3 years.  It was expensive, but pretty darn tasty. Mmmm. 

Our trip to the Salisbury area was short, but there is a lot to do in that general area.  A longer, more extensively planned trip would be a lot of fun.  Our time in the UK is getting short, but I’d definitely jump on the chance to go back to this neck of the woods again.  Oh, and I didn’t see Salisbury steak on the dinner menu.  It was Salisbury and they did have steak, but not the hamburger with onions and gravy stuff.  Maybe next time.

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Guest Post from Beka - Force Fields, Potty Mouths & New T-Shirt Designs

Jill and I met in her blog comments and later through Facebook chats. We have never laid eyes on each other and due to geography might never meet in person. Reading her posts, following her journey to China and nodding my head in solidarity over parenting preschoolers from hard places makes me sane. I’m sure if we made a list there would be many things we don’t agree on or believe in the same way. But being an adoptive parent, having teetered along the fine line of complete insanity and indescribable love for a child you’ve never met, erases all the differences.
 
This connection, this understanding, this appreciation for life-change in a way that no other human could fathom, blurs the lines of friendship and sisterhood. It brings together human beings at their lowest lows and highest highs, sometimes all in the same day. This magical force field wraps around us and floats with us as we navigate scary, joyous, never-before-traveled roads with our children. Most importantly, it is an avenue for sharing in the honor of being mothers to these amazing humans. It is in this spirit that I share today about my irresponsible swearing.
 
But first, some housekeeping.
 
I’m Beka – always laughing, never wearing socks and lover of Skittles. I’m married to my high school sweetheart and together we adopted two sons: G is 5 years old and was born in Russia, T is 4 years old and was born in China. The boys are nine months apart so for the first 3 months of 2014, there were two 4-year-old boys in my house. I’ll pause a moment while you handle that nervous twitch.
 
Back to the irresponsible swearing.
 
My mother never said a swear word until I was an adult. If she got cut off in traffic she would exclaim sweetly “oh you turkey.” My father dropped a few big ones now and then but usually in the garage where he thought no one heard. It only makes sense that I, daughter of the clean-mouthed people, turned into a swearer rivaling truck drivers, stand-up comedians and sailors on weekend leave.
 
For my first soap-in-the-mouth experience I was 6 years old and had been caught playing the hand clapping game “Miss Merry Mack.” For those of you not enjoying girlhood during the early 80s, it went something like this:
 
Miss Merry Mack, Mack, Mack
All dressed in black, black, black
With silver buttons, buttons, buttons
All down her back, back, back.
 
It continued this way for several verses, the words of which I no longer remember. But the one that had me biting down on the Dove bar was totally innocent. It only alluded to the word a-s-s with a well-placed pause, no actual swearing occurred. Before I knew what was happening I was upstairs in the bathroom, standing next to a raging woman who vaguely resembled the mother ship. Enter chomp, scrape, chomp, gag, and 2 hours of brushing.
 
Try as I might I never feel sufficiently finished with an annoying situation unless I use a swear word. Please keep in mind I do not drop swears in public or around other people’s children, but mostly to myself when I stub my toe on the closet door (yesterday morning) or when I ferociously unlock my car but it’s not actually my car (last week).
 
When G was about 3 ½ years old I shouted “what the hell!” from the living room while watching a tennis match with a horrible referee. From the kitchen table he whipped his head around, peanut butter smeared on his face, locked eyes with me and replied “what the hell is right!” Our house shook a little bit and I knew both my deceased grandmothers were pissed.
 
From then on it was an impossible feat to 1) stop him from using what the hell is right everywhere we went and 2) for me to stop swearing. I just cannot let it go. I don’t smoke and I rarely drink so swearing is my only addiction. I. Need. To. Swear.
 
As G matured and fine-tuned the use of what the hell he got tired of it. We also had many talks about the appropriate use of these words. Now he only uses them at home, you know, to teach his brother and complain about taking a nap. What the hell has turned into what the gussies because gussies is not a swear word, it can be used anywhere and he knows he is smarter than I am. No one in our family but G knows what a gussie really is.
 
G’s post-placement adoption reports for Russia are all complete, but we are still in the very early stages of T’s post-placement reports for China. Last week our social worker and case manager came over to visit for his six-month report. We live in an access-controlled condo building so when we saw the ladies parking on the street my husband took the elevator down to let them in.
 
As the elevator bell dinged down the hall, signaling everyone was almost here, I reminded the boys to make sure and be polite to our friends. G nodded and agreed. T smiled, ear to ear, that smile of a child planning something, and blurted out...hang on...you know it’s coming...WHAT THE GUSSIES!
 
I’m thinking t-shirts.
 

 

Thanks, Beka!!!  I laughed until I spit coke through my nose when I first read this, because I was trying to keep my language gentle for my post on her blog.  I open up the email and found a post on cussing.  Oh the irony! 

 

Here is a link to The Nerd Can so you can follow along:  http://www.thenerdcan.com/adoption-besties-charlie-the-unicorn-and-lady-parts-a-guest-post-by-jill/

 

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Easter Pregaming & a Visit to Oxburgh Hall

Today, we visited Oxburgh Hall, which is a National Trust property in Norfolk.  You can read about the history of Oxburgh Hall below if you are interested: 
 

http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/oxburgh-hall/visitor-information/
 

This is only about 20 minutes from where we live and we are National Trust members, so we get in free.  We went for the annual “Easter Egg Trail”.  As far as I can tell, the Brits don’t really do egg hunts.  We paid 2 quid per kid (hey, that rhymes!) for a worksheet that had pictures of 8 different varieties of sheep.  Somewhere on the property, there was a corresponding picture card with each sheep.  Once the card was located, we had to write the name of the sheep down.  There was also a letter on the card that went with an anagram that was part of a puzzle to solve.  Hefty stuff for a three year old and a four year old, right? 

We enjoyed a nice walk around the property.  It was an absolutely dazzling day, rare for this part of the planet.  This was Hubs and I’s 3^rd visit to Oxburgh and Doodlebug’s 2^nd (although I’m sure he doesn’t remember the 1^st).  This was Lil Bit’s first time and we all had a great time. 

The boys had a blast looking for the picture cards, chitter-chattering with their shadows, and going “trip trap trip trap” over the wood bridge Billy Goats Gruff style.  Luckily, we didn’t run in to any trolls.  But, we were ready for them. 

We found all of the picture cards.  The boys started to run out of steam at the end.  We skipped naps today.  The prize for the completed sheep worksheet was a giant Cadbury chocolate egg.  We’d been tempting the boys for several days with the prospect of a “really big chocolate egg”, so they were all hyped up about that.  As we were on our way out of the park, Doodlebug and Lil Bit spotted some folks with ice cream bars and immediately started yammering on about having “ice cream on cone”. 

We got our big chocolate eggs, which Lil Bit proceeded to try and unwrap on the spot…who could blame him, as we’d been going on about these damn eggs for days.  We ended up getting ice cream from the concessions…life was good.  We ate our ice cream on the tailgate of Hubby’s Santa Fe…the three stooges sat three abreast, leaving no room for mom to sit down.  Hubs asked the boys where mommy was going to sit and Lil Bit shrugged and said “no more room.”  Love how his English is coming along.  Yes, Hubs made them move. 

My highlight of the day was when we went to visit the old church on the property.  We sat down in one of the pews for a minute to rest our feet and look at some of the amazing stained glass.  Doodlebug looked at me and said “sing songs?”…because that is what you do in church.  I smiled and said “of course, honey”, expecting Jesus Loves Me.  Not.  My little heathen broke out in to a loud rendition of “heyyyyy, sexy lady” complete with “ooh…ooh…ooh”.  I shushed him and said “we don’t sing that song in church”.  He looked at me – totally perplexed – and said “oh?  Why?”  Lil Bit noted that there was “no TV” at this church – our church has a big screen monitor.  Guess they weren’t impressed. 

It was a great day.  Here is picture proof!

 

My guys learning about different kinds of British sheep

 Yay!  We now have giant chocolate eggs!  What do you mean we can't have them right this second? 

In the files for my "forever house"...a carved wooden pear on a sign post.  There was a lovely ladybug on the pear, too!  Wink! 

Exterior shot of Oxburgh Hall.  I have decided that my forever house should also have a moat, too.  I mean...there aren't enough moats anymore.  Shouldn't we bring them back? 

 
Say cheese?  What do you mean, woman?  I am totally chowing down on my chocolate egg here. 

 Yes, mommy!  I have a chocolate egg!  Whoo hoo!

  The boys got paper "explorer" helmets at the start of the "eggstravaganza"...they are now in the trash.  By the way, other than my 3 guys, I have no freaking idea who the rest of these people are.  They were not budging, even though my repeated (and loud) attempt to pose my guys (which means getting them to actually look at the camera) couldn't have been missed. 

In a nutshell, Oxburgh Hall is worth a visit.  This was my third visit and the first time we'd had really fair weather.  If you are in my neck of the woods, you should totally consider adding a trip here to your bucket list. 

Off to bed, people.  Tomorrow is Easter, which in our house means candy frenzy, getting ready for church and an awesome brunch that I don't have to cook.  I am pretty sure that "Gangam Style" isn't going to be on the list of stuff we sing in church tomorrow...but one can only hope!

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The Checkout Line - Dumb Adoption Questions & Comments

Happy Easter from me & mine to you & yours!  I am bringing back an older post from last year..."The Checkout Line" was one of my more widely read posts until I wrote the disruption series.  It's 90 percent the same post, with a little tweaking & a face lift.  There is the old saying "the only dumb question is one not asked."  This doesn't apply to some of the stuff I've had strangers ask about my boys.
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THE CHECKOUT LINE

The checkout line is a part of everyday life for most of us.  I guess there are probably some snooty falooty people out there that have “staff” to run errands for them, but for the rest of us peasants, standing in line at the store is something we do. 
 

Aside from the obvious “not fun” factor of waiting in a line when you have better things to do and places to be, the checkout is a place where you’re sandwiched between people you don’t know at close range.  Eye contact and the meaningless or even awkward small talk that sometimes follows is part of the fun. 

Lately, I’ve become pretty adept at avoiding that eye contact.  I am a fairly social creature, but often, that initial eye contact end resulting small talk results in questions that run the gamut between the truly offensive and the “I’m just tired of answering” category. 

Most people are pretty quick to come to the conclusion that my adorable Chinese boys are not my biological sons…although there have been a few who seem to need to take the extra step and ask me if my husband is Asian, just to be sure.  I accept that people are curious about our family and that curiosity comes in varying degrees.  I can almost hear the wheels turning in people’s heads while in the checkout line.  If I make that eye contact, if I smile, then I’m potentially opening that door to conversation and to The Questions. 

On some level, I don’t mind The Questions.  If I can answer a question or clear up a misconception about adoption, I’m usually happy to do that.  If I can give someone who is potentially interested in adoption some information to help them get started, even better.  But sometimes, I just want to be a shopper.  Just a mom.  Just an “average Jill” in the store pushing a shopping cart.  I didn’t sign on to be the poster girl for international adoption.  Just because my family is “different” doesn’t mean I want to or should be expected to stop what I’m doing and answer questions about my life to someone who is “just curious”. 

I wish that I could give a knowing nod to those checkout line people in that brief moment between initial eye contact and the “Say, can I ask you a question” slipping from their lips. That knowing nod would say “Yep.  I know what you want to know.”  I wish I could dig in to my bag and whip out a “FAQ” document and sweetly tell these people “Whatever you were about to ask me, it’s in here.  I’m just going to zone out/play Angry Birds/stop my kids from hitting each other with boxes of Kraft mac & cheese.  Cheers.”

If I had such a “FAQ” document in my mommy bag, it would go something like this:

 

Answers to Adoption FAQs:

My boys are adopted from China.

Yes...they know.

No...they don't really understand that very well at this point.

Yes...when they get older, we plan to explain it to them (duh and here's your sign).

Yes...I am sure they are Chinese (this from a lady who I think might have been Japanese telling me that they "look Korean").

My husband is a white guy from Michigan, but the mail carrier might be Asian.  I'm not really going to say more. Keeps you guessing, doesn't it?

No...they are not twins.

Yes...they are brothers.  Real brothers.  I know what you mean.  They are REAL BROTHERS.  That's all.

Do I have any real/normal/regular kids?  All of my kids are real...I don't know about normal most days.  I thought of getting some of those fake kids, you know, like Pinnichio, but I think I will stick with these. 

I have one biological daughter. 

No, I can't have "my own" children*.  If you want to talk more about my reproductive system, we are going to have to take this convo beyond the checkout line and that will involve you purchasing me some sort of beverage.  That's all...

Sadly, I do not know Angelina Jolie, Madonna, Jillian Michaels or the "Little Couple".  Yes...I know these people all adopted kids from "other countries" too.  But I still don't know them.

I don't know anything about the Duggars adopting from China.  I don't know them, either.

My children are American citizens...Yes...real American citizens...Yes...regular American citizens.

They will be able to vote when they're 18 unless the laws change.

They speak English.

We don't speak Chinese, sadly.

They eat macaroni and cheese and most other "kid food".  I'm very lucky that neither one of them are picky.  I am not sure if they "used to eat cats and dogs".  Wow.  Thanks for asking that.  Something for me to ponder, for sure.

We have no plans to enroll them in gymnastics, violin or competitive ping pong.  We're not sure if they are going to be "really good at math".  Right now, we are working on SHARING and the meaning/application of the "Clean Up" song.

I am their "real mother".  The subject of our sons' biological or birth mothers (either term is acceptable) is not something we talk about outside out family.  That's all.

I don't want your opinion on "how horrible the Chinese are for adbandoning their kids" and neither do my kids.  They don't understand what all of that means yet, but one day they will...and they won't appreciate it being addressed by a stranger in a store. 

We adopted from China's "Waiting Child" Program, which takes 12-18 months on average.  "Waiting Child" program is the official name for what some refer to as the "China special needs" program. 

If you have just asked me "so, what's wrong with them/him" and I have smacked you upside the head, don't expect an apology. 

If you are interested in the specifics of adoption, including the cost, our placing agency is Wasatch Adoptions out of Ogden, Utah.  I'd be happy to give you their details. They have a great website and blog and if you have questions beyond that, then give their office a call - they are really wonderful about answering questions. Google them. 

How did we "get boys"?  China adoptions have changed a lot in recent years.  Lots of boys are available for adoption.  If you want to learn more, please contact Wasatch or any adoption agency that facilitates China adoptions. 

We chose to adopt from China because it was the best adoption choice for our family.  If you are one of those people who has just asked me "why didn't you adopt from "your own" country when there are "so many American kids" I could have adopted, then I suggest you quickly educate yourself about the Foster Care System in the United States, because you are clearly unfamiliar with it.

If you just told me that my kids are "so lucky"...thank you.  I know you meant that nicely and I've learned to accept that compliment gracefully.  It is a little sad that children are called lucky because they have parents.  Every child deserves a family.  Sadly, not every child has one.  I feel I'm "so lucky", too.  When I am not stepping on itty bitty cars and when the boys aren't hitting each other, that is...

Bottom line - these kids needed a family.  I had room in mine.  They are wanted; they are loved. 

*Terrible question to ask a parent who has or is in process of adopting.  A parent who has made the choice to adopt after infertility miscarriages, or after the death of a biological child has already suffered loss.  People deal with loss and grief in different ways.  A checkout line (or playground or water cooler or church coffee) might not be the place to ask a stranger - or even someone you know - questions about their ability to reproduce "the old fashioned way".  Besides...you might get more than you bargained for.  I would love to see the look on someone's face if I suddenly launched in to the nitty gritty details of my lady parts...just once. 
 

 

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