When I used to consider searching for my biological people, mother in particular, one of the deterrents was ending up with two mothers giving me heartburn. Twice the hassle. More family to worry about, answer to. Do I really want two mothers? What if the second one is even more difficult than the first? Well, believe it or not, I found myself in just such a situation this past week.
I'm sitting with my husband and brother-in-law at a nice outdoor patio, about to devour a pitcher of sangria. The sun is shining, I'm away on a short holiday and this is our first day there.
Part of the reason we've visited at this time is that my biological mother is also visiting this particular city. We've been in touch about getting together and it's supposed to happen at some point. We will arrange something via text once I arrive.
Back to my patio.
I'm rocking my shades, laughing with hubby and bro-in-law, sipping sangria, and soaking up the sun when it happens. My cell phone rings.
That's not supposed to happen when I am away. Who'd call me on my cell when I'm away when I rarely get calls when I'm at home? Home care for my mom, that's who would call. My mom isn't answering her phone, her door, they made an appointment earlier in the morning for that day, would she really forget within a few hours? Hmm, not likely. I call my mom's cell, scrounge for her boyfriend's number then call him, then his cell, and finally reach him. Nope, he'd just been to my mom's and she hadn't answered and her car was there. He'd been told to bring her a loaf of bread but now he was on his way home.
Damn. This is bad. I look at my phone. I haven't charged it since the night before and the battery is lower but not too bad. I call my son to see where he is, can he zip to grandma's to see what's going on? I have a key to her place but it's at my house. Maybe if I call the office of her apartment building they'll let my son in. Better yet, maybe they'll just go in to see what's going on because it's going to take my son a good half an hour to get to my mom's. I tell my son to head to grandma's and I'll call him back. I locate and call the office of my mom's apartment. They're reluctant to go in but understand that the situation could be serious and saving time could be critical. They will check and call me back.
I check my charge on my battery. Getting lower all the time. I just need it to hang on until the office calls me back. I still need to call home care, my mom's boyfriend, and my son back. I'm trying to stay calm but my stomach is in knots. I am 99% sure something is seriously wrong and as all possible scenarios are swirling in my head, I receive a text. Oh no, I don't have the battery charge for this.
It's my biological mother, returning my "we're here" text I'd sent when we'd gotten into town. What are my plans? Did I want to get together that day? What did I want to do? What were we doing right now? Ugh...this CAN'T be happening.
I start to text back what's going on with my mom, I may have to head back home etc. and it's impossible. Too many details for a text and I can't call as I am waiting to hear back and cannot miss that call. So, I make arrangements to meet up later with bio mom while worrying my mom mom is laying dead in her apartment. Crazy! Everything ultimately turned out alright, my mom did need help but it wasn't life threatening and the visit with bio mom went well but for a moment or two, I couldn't believe that what I dreaded was actually happening.
Showing posts with label mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mom. Show all posts
Saturday
On second thought, she's all yours
The other day my mom talked about making perogies with her friend's daughter. Two hundred of them! All for the friend's daughter, none even for my mom to take home (which if you knew my mom is shocking in itself). Wow. Nice thing for my mom to do, she has never done that with me. It's like pulling teeth for her to cough up a perogy or two for my son and I unless someone special is in town visiting and dinner is at my place. Oohh, sounds bitter, eh? Jealous right? Well, it was. But when I think about it now, the LAST thing I feel like doing is making a few hundred perogies with my mother! Yeah, no, not my idea of fun.
So? Why would I be jealous of something I don't even want? Well, of course it wasn't the perogy making experience I wanted, what I was jealous of was someone getting something I don't have and what I don't have is a storybook relationship with my mom.
I think it's all about desire to have something that's very difficult to obtain. Especially when it comes to mothers and daughters. I'm trying to think of someone, anyone that I know that has the ideal mother/daughter relationship and I'm drawing a blank.
People talk about baggage in romantic relationships, well I think we also have it familial relationships. I think parents bring their own from growing up which is then thrown on to the pile that starts accumulating when they have kids. Why do we expect it to be any different than any other relationships? Sure there is a different kind of connection but the dynamic is the same. In fact, many times we treat our family members with less consideration than we would an acquaintance or a stranger on the street.
Good relationships take effort, by all parties involved. It's my opinion that those special parent/child relationships that do on occasion exist have taken effort and commitment early in the child's life and then an ongoing dedication on behalf of both parties to continue to work things out, to care about how each other are feeling, to really be prepared to apologize when warranted and try to see where the other is coming from.
Just wanting something doesn't make it so. And if it isn't so, let go gracefully. Quit banging your head against the wall. Nothing is automatic, no relationship is effortless or magical.
It's natural to wish something were a certain way, but it's important to have the strength to recognize when that's all it will ever be, is a wish. I'm not saying jump ship necessarily, that's for us all to decide as individuals, but let go of the fantasy. Stop setting yourself up for failure and disappointment and try and see things as they really are.
You never know, maybe what actually is will be a hell of a lot better than continuing to hope for something that never will be.
So? Why would I be jealous of something I don't even want? Well, of course it wasn't the perogy making experience I wanted, what I was jealous of was someone getting something I don't have and what I don't have is a storybook relationship with my mom.
I think it's all about desire to have something that's very difficult to obtain. Especially when it comes to mothers and daughters. I'm trying to think of someone, anyone that I know that has the ideal mother/daughter relationship and I'm drawing a blank.
People talk about baggage in romantic relationships, well I think we also have it familial relationships. I think parents bring their own from growing up which is then thrown on to the pile that starts accumulating when they have kids. Why do we expect it to be any different than any other relationships? Sure there is a different kind of connection but the dynamic is the same. In fact, many times we treat our family members with less consideration than we would an acquaintance or a stranger on the street.
Good relationships take effort, by all parties involved. It's my opinion that those special parent/child relationships that do on occasion exist have taken effort and commitment early in the child's life and then an ongoing dedication on behalf of both parties to continue to work things out, to care about how each other are feeling, to really be prepared to apologize when warranted and try to see where the other is coming from.
Just wanting something doesn't make it so. And if it isn't so, let go gracefully. Quit banging your head against the wall. Nothing is automatic, no relationship is effortless or magical.
It's natural to wish something were a certain way, but it's important to have the strength to recognize when that's all it will ever be, is a wish. I'm not saying jump ship necessarily, that's for us all to decide as individuals, but let go of the fantasy. Stop setting yourself up for failure and disappointment and try and see things as they really are.
You never know, maybe what actually is will be a hell of a lot better than continuing to hope for something that never will be.
Monday
Sorry, I can't make it in today
Just how much consideration does an employer need to show a working mother?
It's not easy being a working mom, sometimes dad. I say sometimes about dad as it seems like more often than not it's mom who misses work because of the kids. I've been a married mom and have also been single one. I know the problems that arise. Kids get sick, then they make you sick. If the kids are in daycare, holidays become an issue. Add that to the everyday reasons people miss work, and there can be a whole lot of missing work going on. Depending on the type of work setting, it can affect productivity as well as morale amongst co-workers.
Is there some onus on the parents to find employment that is flexible, or work alternate shifts to each other? Do parents have a responsibility to be sure they have back up daycare? Should they make an extra effort to go to work on the days when they feel just a little sick, have a flat tire, or when the weather is nice or not so nice, in case of the inevitable child related emergency where they truly cannot come in to work?
I repeat, it's not easy being a working mom and in some cases dad, but just how much slack is an employer expected to cut parents?
It's not easy being a working mom, sometimes dad. I say sometimes about dad as it seems like more often than not it's mom who misses work because of the kids. I've been a married mom and have also been single one. I know the problems that arise. Kids get sick, then they make you sick. If the kids are in daycare, holidays become an issue. Add that to the everyday reasons people miss work, and there can be a whole lot of missing work going on. Depending on the type of work setting, it can affect productivity as well as morale amongst co-workers.
Is there some onus on the parents to find employment that is flexible, or work alternate shifts to each other? Do parents have a responsibility to be sure they have back up daycare? Should they make an extra effort to go to work on the days when they feel just a little sick, have a flat tire, or when the weather is nice or not so nice, in case of the inevitable child related emergency where they truly cannot come in to work?
I repeat, it's not easy being a working mom and in some cases dad, but just how much slack is an employer expected to cut parents?
Friday
You're just like your mother
I think the majority of women fear dread becoming their mothers and/or are determined not to be like them, obviously some have more reason than others to fear dread it.
Am I wrong?
Am I wrong?
Saturday
Be grateful, because you should be.
I've just spent time with women who chose to have children with men who are bad fathers. One has children who are grown and are helping their mom with the death of her husband, their dad. The other has three daughters, with the oldest being "almost 14". I know the parties involved as they're my aunt and cousin, two different generations of moms who for some reason refuse and refused to protect their children as best they can or could from fathers who are unwilling or unable to put their kids before themselves. As a result, NOBODY is putting their children before themselves. They refuse and refused to see the good no longer outweighs the bad, and didn't and won't do anything about it.
The women in my story are not evil. In fact, I love them both very much. My aunt is sweet...now. She wasn't always, in fact I use to look at her in horror when I was a child, wondering how a mom could verbally abuse beautiful, innocent little kids in the way she did when her children were young. Somehow along the way though she was able to turn this around, become a sweet, caring woman who I've been very fond of for many years. Maybe she just didn't like babies or little kids. No matter though, damage done.
My cousin is sweet, has always been. She lost her own father at a young age and luckily had a mom who was completely dedicated to her kids and grandkids. A mom who did all she could to raise 3 children on her own, and to me was a hero in how she coped with the many severe health issues that ultimately took her life, far too young. One would think that with a role model like this, my cousin would be strong when it came to her own children, she'd emulate her mother's determination and dedication to mothering, but no. She's weak, more concerned with keeping her daughters' father as her husband than how this "man" is influencing three little girls' view of themselves, and of the world.
It's strange to care about and love two people that I can have such disdain for. I watched my grown cousins console their mother and accept words of condolence from family friends.I heard the priest tell them how their father will be forgiven and cared for now by god, heard people tell them how great a guy their dad was.I listened to my grown cousin tell me how difficult it was to stand there and have people tell him what a good guy his dad was when he knew the truth, had suffered and still suffers from the truth.
I held my tongue as I listened to my cousin's daughter who's "almost 14" be told parents know best, that she was to listen to her mom and dad as they know everything. This little girl has the honour of being confidante to her parents, the privilege of knowing all the gritty details of her father's infidelity and mother's heartache and pathetic attempts to "keep her man". A little girl who wrote emails to the would-be mistress telling her to stay away from her daddy. A little girl who shed tears in my home when her dad sulked in the car because it hurt his feelings to be told it was uncomfortable to have him around so soon after he decided to fuck over his family, no pun intended. A little girl who is blessed to have as a father a man incapable of even sucking it up for an hour so his wife and daughters could enjoy a family reunion. A little girl with two younger sisters she tries to protect, who may also never know there's another way.
Both of these mothers had and have opportunity to leave these men who are a detriment to their children but chose and choose to stay. The effect on their babies is not as important as their personal desire to remain married to these bad fathers. To allow these men to influence their children in life and haunt them in death is cruel and selfish and not a way any parent should behave.
But parents don't always behave they way they should. If you happen to have gotten one or two that do, whether blood related or not, be grateful, cause you should be.
The women in my story are not evil. In fact, I love them both very much. My aunt is sweet...now. She wasn't always, in fact I use to look at her in horror when I was a child, wondering how a mom could verbally abuse beautiful, innocent little kids in the way she did when her children were young. Somehow along the way though she was able to turn this around, become a sweet, caring woman who I've been very fond of for many years. Maybe she just didn't like babies or little kids. No matter though, damage done.
My cousin is sweet, has always been. She lost her own father at a young age and luckily had a mom who was completely dedicated to her kids and grandkids. A mom who did all she could to raise 3 children on her own, and to me was a hero in how she coped with the many severe health issues that ultimately took her life, far too young. One would think that with a role model like this, my cousin would be strong when it came to her own children, she'd emulate her mother's determination and dedication to mothering, but no. She's weak, more concerned with keeping her daughters' father as her husband than how this "man" is influencing three little girls' view of themselves, and of the world.
It's strange to care about and love two people that I can have such disdain for. I watched my grown cousins console their mother and accept words of condolence from family friends.I heard the priest tell them how their father will be forgiven and cared for now by god, heard people tell them how great a guy their dad was.I listened to my grown cousin tell me how difficult it was to stand there and have people tell him what a good guy his dad was when he knew the truth, had suffered and still suffers from the truth.
I held my tongue as I listened to my cousin's daughter who's "almost 14" be told parents know best, that she was to listen to her mom and dad as they know everything. This little girl has the honour of being confidante to her parents, the privilege of knowing all the gritty details of her father's infidelity and mother's heartache and pathetic attempts to "keep her man". A little girl who wrote emails to the would-be mistress telling her to stay away from her daddy. A little girl who shed tears in my home when her dad sulked in the car because it hurt his feelings to be told it was uncomfortable to have him around so soon after he decided to fuck over his family, no pun intended. A little girl who is blessed to have as a father a man incapable of even sucking it up for an hour so his wife and daughters could enjoy a family reunion. A little girl with two younger sisters she tries to protect, who may also never know there's another way.
Both of these mothers had and have opportunity to leave these men who are a detriment to their children but chose and choose to stay. The effect on their babies is not as important as their personal desire to remain married to these bad fathers. To allow these men to influence their children in life and haunt them in death is cruel and selfish and not a way any parent should behave.
But parents don't always behave they way they should. If you happen to have gotten one or two that do, whether blood related or not, be grateful, cause you should be.
Monday
The ABC's of mom and daughter....starting with Z
I really like my post from yesterday.
This morning while I had my coffee, ok well first cup, I got to thinking about it and how it's amazing that something that can really make me nuts (I'm talking knots in the upper back in between the shoulder blades and stomach pains) was able to give me some tears in the eyes, belly laughs when I thought/wrote about it in a humorous sense. I'm not kidding, I've reread it several times and got at the very least a smile upon each read.
There's a guy who has a twitter account called shitmydadsays. He has 1,322,011 followers....and I'm one of them. Justin, the guy, has a book out now with shit his dad says, called, Sh*t My Dad Says. Now, in Justin's Twitter description he says he lives with his dad and his dad is awesome so, in comparison to my mom and I, that's a huge difference in itself. I won't live with my mom or have my mom live with me. Oh I'm not opposed to some short overnight visits for a good reason and have done it, but never anything permanent. I just couldn't and remain the sane same person.
Now, before you think wow, what an ingrate! what kind of daughter would not let her mom live with her? there's something special my mom has done for me regarding this. See, my mom's mom, my grandma, used to ask my mom repeatedly to live with her and my dad. Thankfully, for me, my mom always made it quite clear that there was "no way in hell that she'd ever have her mom live with her". Ahhhh....just writing that gives me a sense of peace. It lets me so off the hook, gives me a pass in a sense. I mean, what else could be more absolving of guilt than that?
But, I digress. What I'm trying to get at here is that perhaps the key to a difficult parent is to try and see some humour, or if I'm being truly honest, take a hammer and pound some humour into our relationship and our interactions. Obviously it can be done, I did it with our pre MDay outing. I didn't come home that evening laughing and feeling all "oh, mom, you silly bird....the things you do just crack me up". In fact, I drove home kinda grouchy and shaking my head in annoyance, all ready to moan and bitch to my poor husband.
Fortunately for both him and I (especially him) the look on his face when I shuffled out of my car with those big, dumb, disposable sandals had us both laughing and thwarted me poisoning him with my rendition of shit my mom says.
Yesterday was one of those visits that went pretty well. There were moments of near derailment, like when the topic of computers came up. Mom announced how she'd had the poor IT guy from our local internet provider on the phone forever with him attempting to help her get her address book back in alphabetical order. Just her mentioning the word "computer" is enough to make everyone in the room turn and look at me in anticipation of what might happen next. It's like, uh oh, here we go again....
As mom went on to explain how the guy was so great to help her and that what a shame it was that he'd gone so fast that she'd not gotten a chance to write it all down so she'd know how to fix it herself next time I reminded her that I'd been there done that at least once before and showed her how to deal with an address book gone wrong. She wasn't having any of that, nuh uhhh, anything she's ever been told about the computer she writes down and then is able to not bother anyone, just fix it herself. Like the other day, when she lost her "tool bar on the top" she was able to figure out all on her own how to get it back.
Umm, mom? Don't you mean all on your own with me on the other end of the phone for half an hour while my dinner waited? C'mon, remember? Remember when I kept saying, well, sorry I guess I'll just have to swing by and fix it, this isn't working over the phone...no, what? what did you just click? ok, so where are you now? what do you see now? Mom, what do you see now? K, do you see the X in the top right of your screen? Is your email open? No, not is your computer turned on, I'm assuming it's turned on, I mean is your email open? Your email...the thing that says outlook....the place where your address book starts Z...
This morning while I had my coffee, ok well first cup, I got to thinking about it and how it's amazing that something that can really make me nuts (I'm talking knots in the upper back in between the shoulder blades and stomach pains) was able to give me some tears in the eyes, belly laughs when I thought/wrote about it in a humorous sense. I'm not kidding, I've reread it several times and got at the very least a smile upon each read.
There's a guy who has a twitter account called shitmydadsays. He has 1,322,011 followers....and I'm one of them. Justin, the guy, has a book out now with shit his dad says, called, Sh*t My Dad Says. Now, in Justin's Twitter description he says he lives with his dad and his dad is awesome so, in comparison to my mom and I, that's a huge difference in itself. I won't live with my mom or have my mom live with me. Oh I'm not opposed to some short overnight visits for a good reason and have done it, but never anything permanent. I just couldn't and remain the
Now, before you think wow, what an ingrate! what kind of daughter would not let her mom live with her? there's something special my mom has done for me regarding this. See, my mom's mom, my grandma, used to ask my mom repeatedly to live with her and my dad. Thankfully, for me, my mom always made it quite clear that there was "no way in hell that she'd ever have her mom live with her". Ahhhh....just writing that gives me a sense of peace. It lets me so off the hook, gives me a pass in a sense. I mean, what else could be more absolving of guilt than that?
But, I digress. What I'm trying to get at here is that perhaps the key to a difficult parent is to try and see some humour, or if I'm being truly honest, take a hammer and pound some humour into our relationship and our interactions. Obviously it can be done, I did it with our pre MDay outing. I didn't come home that evening laughing and feeling all "oh, mom, you silly bird....the things you do just crack me up". In fact, I drove home kinda grouchy and shaking my head in annoyance, all ready to moan and bitch to my poor husband.
Fortunately for both him and I (especially him) the look on his face when I shuffled out of my car with those big, dumb, disposable sandals had us both laughing and thwarted me poisoning him with my rendition of shit my mom says.
Yesterday was one of those visits that went pretty well. There were moments of near derailment, like when the topic of computers came up. Mom announced how she'd had the poor IT guy from our local internet provider on the phone forever with him attempting to help her get her address book back in alphabetical order. Just her mentioning the word "computer" is enough to make everyone in the room turn and look at me in anticipation of what might happen next. It's like, uh oh, here we go again....
As mom went on to explain how the guy was so great to help her and that what a shame it was that he'd gone so fast that she'd not gotten a chance to write it all down so she'd know how to fix it herself next time I reminded her that I'd been there done that at least once before and showed her how to deal with an address book gone wrong. She wasn't having any of that, nuh uhhh, anything she's ever been told about the computer she writes down and then is able to not bother anyone, just fix it herself. Like the other day, when she lost her "tool bar on the top" she was able to figure out all on her own how to get it back.
Umm, mom? Don't you mean all on your own with me on the other end of the phone for half an hour while my dinner waited? C'mon, remember? Remember when I kept saying, well, sorry I guess I'll just have to swing by and fix it, this isn't working over the phone...no, what? what did you just click? ok, so where are you now? what do you see now? Mom, what do you see now? K, do you see the X in the top right of your screen? Is your email open? No, not is your computer turned on, I'm assuming it's turned on, I mean is your email open? Your email...the thing that says outlook....the place where your address book starts Z...
Sunday
He's here because he wants to be
This last week has been an odd build up to today, Mother's Day.
I was supposed to be off on a driving trip today with my husband. This meant any MDay celebratory activities would need to be taken care of early. My stepson and daughter-in-law came Thursday to do Chinese food with us and brought me a great card and very thoughtful gift, a bag of trip related things-to-do, crosswords, magazines, and a trip agenda book. I was thrilled. I love gifts that are thoughtful and my stepson has a way of just pegging me when it comes to gifts.
I did pedicures with my mom on Wednesday and bought her dinner after. The pedicures were a gift from my daughter-in-law and stepson from Christmas so mom and I decided to use them together (like this was ever in question). I'd had a long day at work so although the pedicure was nice, the company was trying, especially when I stupidly announced that I'd heard there was to be a big announcement May 5th that some celebrity was going to come out in a well planned media campaign. Ahh, yes, I bring it on myself. This of course led to my mom talking about how there's too much homosexuality on tv these days, why even on her favorite show now they have a bunch of gay men, and, oh the men are so much worse than the women......which leads me to feel compelled to embarrass my mom as much as she's embarrassing me and say, "oh c'mon mom, admit it, the guys bug you more because two women kind of turn you on".
After we (not my mom) had a laugh at that, the beautiful young woman doing my pedicure assured me that she could hear her dad saying just the exact same things as my mom.
When we were done and kinda dry but not dry enough to put shoes and socks on I realized I'd not brought sandals so shuffled out to my car in the big, dumb, disposable sandals they'd given me hoping my nails would be dry by the time we got to the restaurant. They weren't.
As I fussed and fretted about wearing these ridiculous sandals into the restaurant my mom assured me it was fine, it would be dark, nobody would notice, so I sucked it up and shuffled my way on in. Immediately upon entering, the young woman seating us eyes darted down at my feet (yes they did, YES they did, YES THEY DID!) but quickly looked back up and led us to our table. Upon sitting, my mom announces she'll be right back, she really must get to the bathroom and PUT SOME LIPSTICK ON. But...it's dark..nobody will notice....
After ordering, our waiter tells us to help ourselves to the soup bar...what!?!? I have to get up and walk around again?!? Mom assures me it's not so bad, nobody will even notice, it's dark, blah blah blah, so I'm hungry and let her talk me into it. We head over and make our selections, I'm slower and mom has already headed back so as I turn to shuffle back to our table as inconspicuously as possible there's mom, chatting with some guy. As I walk toward them with the intent of movin' on by without stopping they both look at me and the guy says, "ahh I see both you and your daughter got pedicures". Sigh.
So back to today. I'm still here, and, it's still Mother's Day. After telling my mom yesterday that we were not going to be able to leave today, that the stuff she's sending with me to give to my sister can be brought today and why doesn't she stay and have pancakes since it's MDay. Needless to say she's thrilled, "it's just not right that you be away on Mother's Day". When I reminded her that SHE'S been away on Mother's Day, that I packaged up a bunch of special treats for her to open and have on her special day one particular year she was away she replied, "oh, I guess I should go out and get you some stuff for your trip" to which I said no mom, you don't have to do anything for me on Mother's Day, I'm not your mother. She'll bring me something anyway.
The delay in plans was helpful to my son, for which I'm glad. I hate people doing things for me out of obligation or missing out on something else because they had to do Mother's Day early for me, because of me. He and his girlfriend had plans yesterday which they were able to keep and now he'll be here with me, my husband and my mom pigging out on pancakes and bacon. He better not spend a bunch of money that he doesn't have on gifts because for me the true gift on Mother's Day is having my son look at me with love and truly knowing he's there because he wants to be, not because he has to be.
I was supposed to be off on a driving trip today with my husband. This meant any MDay celebratory activities would need to be taken care of early. My stepson and daughter-in-law came Thursday to do Chinese food with us and brought me a great card and very thoughtful gift, a bag of trip related things-to-do, crosswords, magazines, and a trip agenda book. I was thrilled. I love gifts that are thoughtful and my stepson has a way of just pegging me when it comes to gifts.
I did pedicures with my mom on Wednesday and bought her dinner after. The pedicures were a gift from my daughter-in-law and stepson from Christmas so mom and I decided to use them together (like this was ever in question). I'd had a long day at work so although the pedicure was nice, the company was trying, especially when I stupidly announced that I'd heard there was to be a big announcement May 5th that some celebrity was going to come out in a well planned media campaign. Ahh, yes, I bring it on myself. This of course led to my mom talking about how there's too much homosexuality on tv these days, why even on her favorite show now they have a bunch of gay men, and, oh the men are so much worse than the women......which leads me to feel compelled to embarrass my mom as much as she's embarrassing me and say, "oh c'mon mom, admit it, the guys bug you more because two women kind of turn you on".
After we (not my mom) had a laugh at that, the beautiful young woman doing my pedicure assured me that she could hear her dad saying just the exact same things as my mom.
When we were done and kinda dry but not dry enough to put shoes and socks on I realized I'd not brought sandals so shuffled out to my car in the big, dumb, disposable sandals they'd given me hoping my nails would be dry by the time we got to the restaurant. They weren't.
As I fussed and fretted about wearing these ridiculous sandals into the restaurant my mom assured me it was fine, it would be dark, nobody would notice, so I sucked it up and shuffled my way on in. Immediately upon entering, the young woman seating us eyes darted down at my feet (yes they did, YES they did, YES THEY DID!) but quickly looked back up and led us to our table. Upon sitting, my mom announces she'll be right back, she really must get to the bathroom and PUT SOME LIPSTICK ON. But...it's dark..nobody will notice....
After ordering, our waiter tells us to help ourselves to the soup bar...what!?!? I have to get up and walk around again?!? Mom assures me it's not so bad, nobody will even notice, it's dark, blah blah blah, so I'm hungry and let her talk me into it. We head over and make our selections, I'm slower and mom has already headed back so as I turn to shuffle back to our table as inconspicuously as possible there's mom, chatting with some guy. As I walk toward them with the intent of movin' on by without stopping they both look at me and the guy says, "ahh I see both you and your daughter got pedicures". Sigh.
So back to today. I'm still here, and, it's still Mother's Day. After telling my mom yesterday that we were not going to be able to leave today, that the stuff she's sending with me to give to my sister can be brought today and why doesn't she stay and have pancakes since it's MDay. Needless to say she's thrilled, "it's just not right that you be away on Mother's Day". When I reminded her that SHE'S been away on Mother's Day, that I packaged up a bunch of special treats for her to open and have on her special day one particular year she was away she replied, "oh, I guess I should go out and get you some stuff for your trip" to which I said no mom, you don't have to do anything for me on Mother's Day, I'm not your mother. She'll bring me something anyway.
The delay in plans was helpful to my son, for which I'm glad. I hate people doing things for me out of obligation or missing out on something else because they had to do Mother's Day early for me, because of me. He and his girlfriend had plans yesterday which they were able to keep and now he'll be here with me, my husband and my mom pigging out on pancakes and bacon. He better not spend a bunch of money that he doesn't have on gifts because for me the true gift on Mother's Day is having my son look at me with love and truly knowing he's there because he wants to be, not because he has to be.
Friday
To be more clear
In a post I made yesterday I linked to your blog (here). I just discovered you yesterday in an attempt to find resources that address the myth of instant bonding and/or love of all mothers. I am trying to bring awareness to this issue but am sorely lacking in experience and knowledge regarding it. In my limited understanding it’s my feeling that there is a societal expectation that women are expected to automatically, upon giving birth, perhaps even prior to, be magically attached/bonded/in love/perfectly competent, or whatever and this is not always the case. The fact that society expects it, or pretends it, attaches a stigma to the mom who is not feeling all these things immediately which exacerbates the problem by forcing her to be silent for fear of being judged, for fear of being imperfect or incapable.
My question to you is am I off base here? And would you ever consider writing me a “quickie” guest post addressing this myth?
Campbell,
Thank you for visiting my blog, for taking the time to post a comment, and esp. for linking to my post about infant bonding! Instant bonding is indeed a myth, which only serves to worsen a mother's postpartum experience. If she has postpartum depression, well, that just aggravates her feelings of guilt all the more. Your comment agrees with the gist of my post about debunking the myth of instant bonding. You are not off base. It's society in general that's way off base, and putting all that mythical stuff out there to cause first-time mothers to have unnecessarily high expectations is something I'd like society to stop at some point. That can only happen if there are enough voices out there in blogs, the news, magazines, books, etc. join together to speak the truth.
Ivy
http://ivysppdblog.wordpress.com
My question to you is am I off base here? And would you ever consider writing me a “quickie” guest post addressing this myth?
Campbell,
Thank you for visiting my blog, for taking the time to post a comment, and esp. for linking to my post about infant bonding! Instant bonding is indeed a myth, which only serves to worsen a mother's postpartum experience. If she has postpartum depression, well, that just aggravates her feelings of guilt all the more. Your comment agrees with the gist of my post about debunking the myth of instant bonding. You are not off base. It's society in general that's way off base, and putting all that mythical stuff out there to cause first-time mothers to have unnecessarily high expectations is something I'd like society to stop at some point. That can only happen if there are enough voices out there in blogs, the news, magazines, books, etc. join together to speak the truth.
Ivy
http://ivysppdblog.wordpress.com
Thursday
Bullocks to the naysayers
Denene Millner at MyBrownBaby has a different take than I've been reading elsewhere regarding Sandra Bullock's adoption. I enjoyed the post and with her permission am sharing it here:
MyBrownBaby: Then I'll Say It: Congrats, Sandra Bullock—AND baby Louie!
Sandra Bullock's announcement that she is the proud mom of a new baby boy got a lot of attention yesterday for a lot of reasons, but it wasn't just because she kept little Louis' adoption a secret while she dealt with her soon-to-be ex-husband's creeping. Seems that folks are in a tither over the fact that Sandra's son is a brown baby. For sure, my "google alert" for "African American baby" was full of Sandra Bullock stories, as if she's the first, last, and only mom of an African American child. And then there was this from the Twitterati:
I mean, good grief: I get the fascination, I guess; Sandra is white, her son is a black boy she adopted from Louisiana, a state she fell in love with after putting in some Hurricane Katrina volunteer work... blah, blah, blah. But really? Are we still seriously questioning whether it's okay for white parents to adopt black children? In a country where black folks make up 12 percent of the American population but 31 percent of the children waiting to be adopted? And the last possible child to be adopted by anybody—no matter the color—is a dark-skinned black boy? Why the vitriol? She's not about to take little Louis and grill him for dinner; she's vowing to love him strong and raise him right. Why, for God's sake, is this cause for concern? Debate? Snarkiness?
Of course, transracial adoptions can have their complications; there'll always be questions about whether the children are getting enough exposure to folks who look like them, or whether the parents will be sensitive enough to the unique needs of black children. And while I agree that white parents who adopt black kids should be just as passionate about their children's cultural education as they are an academic one, I'm not ever going to suggest that black children should languish in the bowels of the foster care system until someone who looks exactly like them comes along and opens their homes and hearts to them.
I was lucky: My parents, both African American, took me home when I was but a little baby—four days after someone, presumably the woman who gave birth to me, left me on the doorsteps of an orphanage. I am forever grateful to them, and eternally in love with them for loving me unconditionally, and raising me with grace. I would feel the same way about them if they were white.
I'll bet you that 40 years from now, Louie will say the same.
So I'll say it, even if way too many are focusing on sillier things: Congratulations, Sandra—welcome to the mommy club.
MyBrownBaby: Then I'll Say It: Congrats, Sandra Bullock—AND baby Louie!
Sandra Bullock's announcement that she is the proud mom of a new baby boy got a lot of attention yesterday for a lot of reasons, but it wasn't just because she kept little Louis' adoption a secret while she dealt with her soon-to-be ex-husband's creeping. Seems that folks are in a tither over the fact that Sandra's son is a brown baby. For sure, my "google alert" for "African American baby" was full of Sandra Bullock stories, as if she's the first, last, and only mom of an African American child. And then there was this from the Twitterati:
Sandra bullock loves black ppl. Blind side, Regina King in Ms Congeniality & now she adopted a black (american) baby. Clap 4 her LOL
Did Sandra Bullock adopt a black baby? I thought that fad had pass in Hollywood just like small dogs in LV bags.
Wish I cud adopt a black baby like Madonna, Angelina Jolie n Sandra Bullock...OH WAIT... I can produce dem frm ma own lovely uterus :)
Sandra Bullock is taking this "Blind Side" thing too far...
I mean, good grief: I get the fascination, I guess; Sandra is white, her son is a black boy she adopted from Louisiana, a state she fell in love with after putting in some Hurricane Katrina volunteer work... blah, blah, blah. But really? Are we still seriously questioning whether it's okay for white parents to adopt black children? In a country where black folks make up 12 percent of the American population but 31 percent of the children waiting to be adopted? And the last possible child to be adopted by anybody—no matter the color—is a dark-skinned black boy? Why the vitriol? She's not about to take little Louis and grill him for dinner; she's vowing to love him strong and raise him right. Why, for God's sake, is this cause for concern? Debate? Snarkiness?
Of course, transracial adoptions can have their complications; there'll always be questions about whether the children are getting enough exposure to folks who look like them, or whether the parents will be sensitive enough to the unique needs of black children. And while I agree that white parents who adopt black kids should be just as passionate about their children's cultural education as they are an academic one, I'm not ever going to suggest that black children should languish in the bowels of the foster care system until someone who looks exactly like them comes along and opens their homes and hearts to them.
I was lucky: My parents, both African American, took me home when I was but a little baby—four days after someone, presumably the woman who gave birth to me, left me on the doorsteps of an orphanage. I am forever grateful to them, and eternally in love with them for loving me unconditionally, and raising me with grace. I would feel the same way about them if they were white.
I'll bet you that 40 years from now, Louie will say the same.
So I'll say it, even if way too many are focusing on sillier things: Congratulations, Sandra—welcome to the mommy club.
Sip of the iceberg
I had a couple of conversations with my mom about adoption which were provoked by the societies I've discovered online. The society of very much anti adoption members, mainly biological mothers and female adoptees, some of whom are very angry. The society of adoptive parents who's hearts seem to be in the right place trying to learn from these people. The society of potential adoptive parents who use religion in a bizarre way to rationalize their infertility and resulting desire to adopt.
The first conversation started out with me acknowledging that my mom must have done something right to have ended up with two daughters that have very different personalities that are both okay with having been adopted, something I've been wanting to tell her for a few weeks now. I confess this first conversation was fueled by a very large glass of white wine. It's not that it wouldn't have happened without the wine as I've always felt comfortable talking about being adopted it's just that I'm not as familiar with telling my mom she's done something right. For the past few years I've just tried to keep it simple and "not go there" with her as our points of view on life can be quite different and there does come a point where one has to resign themselves that most dogs can get too old to teach new tricks to. Oh I know, I'll be there myself some day but my plan is to fight it tooth n nail.
Some of the first conversation's details are fuzzy, like just exactly how we got to the place where she'd write something on adoption for me to post on my blog. Yesterday's conversation was alcohol free and she insists she's still determined to supply me with her thoughts. Since I want anything she writes to be free of my words her contribution may never happen as she sometimes has trouble completing tasks on her own (without mine or someone else's help) for others but she's surprised me before. If she does surprise me with something, I'll be prepared to cringe and blush, but then who knows, maybe I'll be forced again to admit my mom did something right.
A few of the tidbits from our conversation yesterday are the fact I wasn't kept in foster care at all, something I've wanted to ask since reading that some have been and were unaware. I was kept in the hospital for the month or so prior to joining my family at home. That they paid $25, the cost of the paper work. That it was a year until the adoption was completely finalized, that until then my biological mother could have changed her mind. That in a way, she did pick me (this tidbit was offered up when I was discussing how as an adult I know that it's not the case but as a child it helped me) that, in her words, "well, in a way we did pick you because after seeing you we could have said no". Me, "mom, you know that isn't the same thing". Sigh.
We discussed how she wouldn't have adopted us if she'd been able to have her own children. This one was hard to get her to admit to but she got there. I truly think her hesitance is because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings, which is nice. I talked to her about the responsibility we have as adoption affected people to talk about the "dark side" of adoption, that not all families end up like ours. That there are people out there making bigs bucks off other people's misery, that children are being adopted by abusive people and there are parents losing their babies that don't have to. Finally, we talked about the fact that I can't find my voice very often (ever?) online. That the people like me aren't here or aren't talking. I know some of you will say they don't exist but that's not true. Because I exist. My sister exists. My son exists.
The first conversation started out with me acknowledging that my mom must have done something right to have ended up with two daughters that have very different personalities that are both okay with having been adopted, something I've been wanting to tell her for a few weeks now. I confess this first conversation was fueled by a very large glass of white wine. It's not that it wouldn't have happened without the wine as I've always felt comfortable talking about being adopted it's just that I'm not as familiar with telling my mom she's done something right. For the past few years I've just tried to keep it simple and "not go there" with her as our points of view on life can be quite different and there does come a point where one has to resign themselves that most dogs can get too old to teach new tricks to. Oh I know, I'll be there myself some day but my plan is to fight it tooth n nail.
Some of the first conversation's details are fuzzy, like just exactly how we got to the place where she'd write something on adoption for me to post on my blog. Yesterday's conversation was alcohol free and she insists she's still determined to supply me with her thoughts. Since I want anything she writes to be free of my words her contribution may never happen as she sometimes has trouble completing tasks on her own (without mine or someone else's help) for others but she's surprised me before. If she does surprise me with something, I'll be prepared to cringe and blush, but then who knows, maybe I'll be forced again to admit my mom did something right.
A few of the tidbits from our conversation yesterday are the fact I wasn't kept in foster care at all, something I've wanted to ask since reading that some have been and were unaware. I was kept in the hospital for the month or so prior to joining my family at home. That they paid $25, the cost of the paper work. That it was a year until the adoption was completely finalized, that until then my biological mother could have changed her mind. That in a way, she did pick me (this tidbit was offered up when I was discussing how as an adult I know that it's not the case but as a child it helped me) that, in her words, "well, in a way we did pick you because after seeing you we could have said no". Me, "mom, you know that isn't the same thing". Sigh.
We discussed how she wouldn't have adopted us if she'd been able to have her own children. This one was hard to get her to admit to but she got there. I truly think her hesitance is because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings, which is nice. I talked to her about the responsibility we have as adoption affected people to talk about the "dark side" of adoption, that not all families end up like ours. That there are people out there making bigs bucks off other people's misery, that children are being adopted by abusive people and there are parents losing their babies that don't have to. Finally, we talked about the fact that I can't find my voice very often (ever?) online. That the people like me aren't here or aren't talking. I know some of you will say they don't exist but that's not true. Because I exist. My sister exists. My son exists.
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