Embracing The Dark Circles ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 9

Writing prompt for today: Becoming a Parent. Did becoming a parent change your perception of adoption or being adopted? Or did it strengthen what you already believe or feel? If you are not a parent, has watching your extended families expand (e.g. having nieces or nephews) changed your views on adoption or did it strengthen your views? Looking forward to your own potential parenthood: do you want kids, what strengths or challenges do you see in the future for yourself in becoming a parent? How has being adopted affected your own parenting philosophy?

 

Before I had children, I was constantly looking for my face and features and mannerisms in other people.  I wanted to know where I got my freckles from...or why I started getting white (not gray, WHITE) hair in my early twenties...and where the stupid dark circles under my eyes came from.

 

I'd see my friends with their parents, so similar and undeniably family.  I wanted that.  I wanted to look like my parents and sister, regardless of what the household dynamics were.  I figured if I was stuck with these people, I should look like them at least.

 

Once I had my daughter and she began to grow, it was clear that she was my clone.  Everyone still calls her my "mini-me" (even though she is now officially taller than me, God help me).  She and my son share my freckles, and Maddie shares the dark circles.  I treasure those similarities.  Both of my kids came along before I was reunited with my natural mom and it was amazing to finally "see" myself in someone else. 

 

I think that it was after the kids came that I began to question adoption at its core.  I would never have been able to give them up.  I loved them the minute I found out I was pregnant with them.  My heart was filled with happiness at knowing I was going to finally know blood relatives.  And I had created them.  Awe inspiring. 

 

As far as how being adopted has affecting my parenting philosophy, I am not sure it has.  Instead, my childhood has impacted it much more.  I realize that I'm really trying to be the complete opposite of my adoptive parents.  I allow the kids to go to friends' houses without giving them a guilt trip when they get home.  I accept that they aren't perfect and if Maddie can get a D on a test and still manage to pull her grades up to High Honors on her report card and if Chase can struggle with Math and still manage to get a C+ on his report cars, I can deal with that.  And I am proud of them.  I am protective of their safety and well being, but not overbearingly so.  I may get irritated with their behavior sometimes, but I don't slam them across the room and leave a mark in the wall from where their head bounced off of it.  I may nag them to clean their rooms, but I don't make them stay up until 3am until it's spotless and I have inspected it.  I set high expectations, but don't tell them I wish I could send them back when they can't meet them. 

 

This post seems disjointed to me.  I'm tired and my blood pressure is high tonight so I'm going to leave off for now.  Maybe I'll edit it, or maybe I won't..lol. 

 

By the way, all of the women on my natural mother's family got white hair when they were in their twenties, and Maddie and I got our dark circles from my mom's sister, Martha.

 

Coffee Talk with Christina : Part Three

Remember back in August when I asked for questions because I was having writer's block?  Well, I kind of am at the same place again...and am going to answer Lee's question now to jumpstart my creative juices.

Thanks Lee!

"What I might ask if we chatted over coffee would be how has your childhood informed how you parent your children today? I would ask this because although I am not adopted I had a very um odd family dynamic and found myself doing lots of sifting and casting out of things when I wanted to be a parent."

My childhood sucked. I was afraid of my aparents and felt lost and alone 99.99% of the time. I’d spend hours upon hours either in my room or outside in the woods by myself, inventing fairytale scenarios that I’d make up in my head. Often they’d involve a dramatic rescue…white horse, damsel in distress, the whole nine yards. My favorite book as a child was “A Little Princess” because for all intents and purposes, I WAS her.


As a mother, I’ve allowed my kids the freedom to be themselves. If that means that my son dresses up like Hannah Montana and prances around the house singing at the top of his lungs, then that’s okay with me. If that means that my daughter dresses in jeans and t-shirts all the time and rolls her eyes at me when it’s time to brush her teeth, then so be it. There are boundaries, of course, but I am bound and determined that my children will NEVER be afraid of me. The hugs and the kisses and the snuggles are given freely and without any fear of a slap across the face in the next moment.

I always make sure to let the kids know that I’m proud of them…that no matter how Maddie sings, or how Chase does on his spelling test, I’m proud. I never quite was able to obtain my aparents’ approval. My asister was the smart one…the one who made it farther with our piano lessons than I did…the one who got accepted into a better college than I did…the one who made straight A’s every time. Now I know that she did all those things to prove to our aparents that she was worthy enough of their love, but maybe a part of me was rebelling against them. And getting a B on my report card, while not really rebel worthy, was the best (or worst) I could do.

While I know that I need to make sure my kids are safe, I will not suffocate them. I know that they need to have their own lives and experience things that I never got to experience. I had to beg…literally beg…to be allowed to go out with my friends in high school. And when I’d get home I’d get the silent treatment for a good day and a half because I surely hadn’t deserved to be allowed to go, but they’d relented and now I was going to pay for it. I just wanted to have a little fun in an otherwise dreary existence…not too much to ask for…and it WON’T be too much for my kids to ask for. Ever.


By the way, this is Chase, dressed up like Hannah Montana...