Whew. (Probably TMI..Lol)

My little girl is growing up…she's going to be entering the double digit state at the end of May and I've started talking to her about the "changes" her little girl body will be going through soon. So scary!!! I started out by having her read "Are You There God? It's Me Margaret" by Judy Blume..which was a nice segway into a long car ride/talk about the book and what it means for her. She was completely mortified..lol. Like in a "Please just turn up the radio Mum…I don't want to talk about it…" sort of mortified way. Poor girl..hahaha.


The thing is, I never had those talks with my amother. I think she just threw a medical book at me and told me to read it. My asister had already been through getting her period and all that stuff four years prior and I'm pretty sure she had just thrown the same book at my sister, hoping that she (and I) wouldn’t have any questions.

A few months ago, I was talking to my natural mom about it…and she said, "For Cate's (my natural sister) tenth birthday, I put together a "Big Girl Basket" and put all sorts of body lotions, deodrants, shaving cream, razors…pads, tampons..etc. etc. in it….". Hearing that really brought home the fact that my upbringing was so different than what it might have been. You just didn't talk about such things in my house…sex was definitely not a topic that was discussed..ever..except in the context of "only sluts have sex before marriage". Funny, by that definition, both my asister and I ended up being sluts in the eyes of our parents in spite of the fear of God we had instilled into our hearts and souls.

The other day, Madelyn wrote me an email before bed (using my computer, right in front of me..lol) and then literally ran into her room to avoid starting a conversation. This is how the email exchange went:


From: xxxxxxx
To: xxxxxxxxxxx@aol.com
Sent: Tue, Mar 23, 2010 9:01 pm
Subject: ummmmm hi

Hey Mum......I love u. How are you.......I uh I don't know
I wanna wear a bra.Please don't discuss it now.........I'm sorry.I don't have to .......bye


OMG. So I calmed myself down (I admit I was laughing really hard)…and replied:


On Tue, Mar 23, 2010 at 9:35 PM, wrote:


Hi Mad...I love you too :) We'll discuss it another day then sweetheart, okay? No worries..we'll know when it's time to go shopping...


Love,
Mum

I was pretty proud of myself for the way I responded…and then the next day, I got this:

From: xxxxxxx >
To: xxxxxxxxxxx@aol.com
Sent: Wed, Mar 24, 2010 7:48 pm
Subject: Re: ummmmm hi


Ummmm......ok.....I really am sorry that it was so sudden.....I just sorta felt like it was time....Love you more than you know

Love Madelyn ps....is it almost time?


So, this weekend, I brought her to the store and we walked in…me striding purposefully towards the girls' section, she following behind me asking what we were getting. I didn't answer her, just kept walking right over to the girls' bras. She said, "Now??? We're doing this now???"…lol…

She picked out some cute sports bra type garments and handed them to me very quickly so she wouldn't be seen carrying them and avoided eye contact with anyone and everyone in the store, including me, until we left.

Turns out three of her friends have gotten them in recent weeks and she wanted to wear one too. My boyfriend chortled in amusement when I told him what we'd gotten…"But Honey, she doesn't NEED one yet…". I said, "That's not the point. She WANTS to wear one..and I'm not going to be like my mother and pretend that such things don’t need special attention." He shut up fairly quickly after that. Smart man.

Totally and Completely Off Topic

Okay, so I redid my template a few days ago…and I'm extremely a bit confuzzled. When I'm at home on my laptop (sitting on my comfy couch, sipping a hot cup of coffee, slippers on my feet, soft music playi…OOPS..sorry, started daydreaming there..lol), and I go to view my blog, the colors are a nice muted green color for the grass, baby blue for the header, and burgundy letters.

But when I'm at work, and I view my blog, it's this ugly fluorescent green for the grass, yucky aquamarine blue for the sky with brownish red letters.

What do you see when you're viewing my blog?? Help???

Naughtiness and Titles

Not sure if I've ever told this story before...I found this out during my first face to face meeting with my nmom and nsister.


My mom had been married to my sister and brother's dad...and they got divorced when the kids were 3 and 6 years old, respectively. He was an alcoholic and had become bitter when my mom had gotten herself sober...was abusive and just an all around peach of a human being. He knew about me...(he's not my natural father)...knew that she'd given up a baby for adoption long before he'd come into the picture.

After they'd split up, he'd taken the kids for his weekend parenting time. On the way home, he said to them, "Make sure you behave for Mommy. She'll give you away if you're naughty..she's done it before..".

The kids immediately told my mom about what he'd said when they got home. She couldn't believe that he'd had the audacity to say that to them...

That was when she explained the why's and when's of my relinquishment. She was 16 years old, hadn't told my grandparents she was pregnant until her water broke..my nfather had returned all her letters unopened.

I have a feeling that my mom's ex was expecting my brother and sister to be upset with Mom. That they'd suddenly become afraid that she would give them up too. Instead, they got excited. Knowing that somewhere there was a big sister they might get to meet someday.

What's funny is that I was always told I was bad by my aparents...that if I didn't behave I'd get "sent back". Sometimes I really wish they'd followed up on that threat. Life certainly wouldn't have been as bad.

On an entirely different note, I'm still fuming over my last Blog of Shame award winner's comeback on her blog to my post. I understand that she was offended that I called her out on her warped and twisted (and entirely UNFUNNY) sense of humor in referring to pregnant women as "breeders". First of all, my name is Christina. With an "a" at the end. Not Christine. She'd like to pretend that she didn't pay close attention to what I said, but in actuality, she did read and I think the only possible reason that she'd gotten upset is because she knows, somewhere in her heart, that she was wrong.

The woman that she'll one day call "birthmother" (HATE that term..but I know that's what E will call her) to her eventually to-be-adopted child is a breeder too. And by belittling those of us who are lucky enough to be able to carry children is just ugly and again, not humorous.

Guess that's one more negative term I can add to my titles.

I'm a Bastard. I'm an Adoptee. I'm a Naughty Baby. I'm a Girlfriend. I'm a Daughter. I'm a Sister.  I'm a Friend.  I'm a Blogger. I'm an Employee. I'm a Human Being. I'm a Breeder. I'm a Mother. I'm a Woman. I'm a Survivor.

A Curious Case of the Creepy Crawlies

Tuesday was really rough.  Really rough.  All day I felt like my skin was crawling.  Truly crawling with a billion little worms moving and squirming, driving me crazy. 

Got to therapy and talked about it..told her that I was terribly agitated and couldn't really figure out what was going on specifically...just that it was uncomfortable and I needed help.

Back to my boulder we went.  Our intent was to throw the "creepy crawly sensation" into the river.  But no.  I felt like something was holding me back...or someone.  My therapist asked me who or what I thought it was..and as I sat there, on my peaceful rock, Keeper showed up in her long white nightgown and the big green eyes..her dark hair blowing in a nonexistent breeze.  I asked her why she didn't want me to throw the creepy crawlies into the river and the only thought I had as I asked her was that she was protecting me.  Protecting me from the secrets. 

In digging further, I came to understand that she was afraid that if she did tell the secrets, all the parts of me would be completely overwhelmed.  And that she wouldn't be needed anymore.  Eventually, we (my therapist and I) were able to convince her to let me put the awful feeling of my skin crawling in a huge jug..instead of the river.  That way she could still guard it, but I'd be able to function.  Found out that Keeper doesn't sleep.  She can't.  She has "lived" this way her entire life, saving the bruised and injured parts of my psyche from the floodgates of memories and pain.  A very shitty way to live if you ask me. 

Now, dear friends and readers, I am well aware it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the secrets could be.  But I, as well as Keeper and Five, am not ready to say them yet.  I'm just really scared...

I know this is going to be bad.

Adoption Carnival Six

I've been struggling these past few days...struggling with my post for Grown In My Heart's sixth adoption carnival. 

The gist of the carnival is this:

How do you handle racism? GIMH knows that some of you may not have encountered this in adoption but what WOULD you do if you were to encounter it?

I'm not really sure how to write for this topic speaking as a domestic adoptee...but I'll give it a shot.

My adoptive father was racist.  Phew.  Okay, so now that THAT is out of the way... 

My adoptive sister and I were always told that there was no way in hell that we'd "be allowed" to bring home an African American boyfriend or an Asian boyfriend...(except he used the extremely offensive terms that decent human beings don't use).  We grew up in a predominantly (by that, I really mean that there was one African American family that lived in the next town over) Caucasian area of central Massachusetts.  Looking back on it now, it was a very sheltered existence and not one that really prepared me to be a citizen of the world. 

What was ironic was that we went to church and Sunday school every week and inevitably we'd end up singing this song:

Jesus loves the little children,

All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in His sight.
Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Sadly, not every parent teaches their children that looking down on someone just because they look a certain way, or because, in their own minds, that particular group does some things differently than what they are used to.  And that's not fair to the kids. 

Honestly, I will never understand why we can't all get along.  Everyone's the same inside...so WHAT if we look different...everyone has a heart (although, in the case of my adoptive father, that fact is debatable)...everyone has a brain (except for some of my ex boyfriends..lol)...everyone poops (and if you're like my son, that would only be once every two days so that he 'cracks' the toilet so poor Mommy has to plunge the hell out of the thing)...everyone eats...sleeps...laughs...cries...well, you get the picture. 

I hate thinking about adoptees having to experience racism in their lives...as a domestic adoptee, I never did.  I did however get treated differently (i.e. tormented, tortured, and teased mercilessly) because of the way I looked.  And I just remember how shitty it made me feel and still makes me feel to this day.  I know it's not the same thing, but it was certainly harassment and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

I'm raising my children to respect the Golden Rule..and to never say or do anything to someone that you wouldn't mind someone doing to you.  So far it's working...fingers crossed that it's enough.