Please, don't ask that. It's rude, and you sound stupid.

  My 11 yo looks more like me than he looks like his biological mother's family- and that’s a blessing and a curse in one. A blessing because I never get asked ridiculous questions the way an interracial family does- in fact, most people don't know he's adopted.

But a curse just the same, because when an acquaintance finds out (it’s not a secret and I’m happy to talk about it if it comes up, but don’t generally say anything unless we’re on the topic)- I always get the same stupid, “I thought YOU were his mother. I’d have never known if you hadn’t said anything. Are the girls adopted too?”

Well. Here’s the problem- and it’s my own stubborn nature giving me the problem- I AM his mother. No, you wouldn’t have known, so why are you suddenly acting like it’s the twilight zone? He’s my son, I don’t love him less or more than I did five minutes ago, or less or more than my daughters. No, my girls are not adopted. I love all my children. They are all different people, so no, I don’t love them ‘the same’- I love them differently, but in equal amounts.

I hate the fact that once someone discovers my son is adopted they feel like they have the right to his birth story, our entire history together, and to treat me like I’m suddenly LESS his mother now than I was before- or even worse the people who act like I’m some kind of “saint” for adopting. I’m no saint. I’ve made mistakes as a mother, as a person, as a wife. But the expectation that I’ll suddenly open my life to their scrutiny (and their judgements) drives me crazy.

 But I don’t discuss it in order to make someone think better of me, or worse of his bio mom. It’s no longer a painful situation, but it can make some people uncomfortable- and since they can’t understand, they try to use things they’ve seen on TV as a standard for how they think I "must" feel. For example, one lady who decided I must be sterile, and have battled infertility. Another who wondered (out loud, but thankfully not in front of my husband or son) if his birthmother had been beaten or raped by his birth father. Total inappropriate bullshit.

I also don’t bring it up with casual acquaintances on first meeting them, and somehow, this makes them feel ‘tricked’ later.

As if I should introduce myself with, “Hi, my name is Sarah. I have three children. One of whom is adopted, and two ‘regular’ children. I will take questions for ten minutes now.”

Conversely, there are some people that I will NEVER tell about the adoption. If by some chance they read it here, or another acquaintance tells them, fine, but it will never come from me.

I have a highschool acquaintance, who judged me very harshly the first time he heard I (at 31) had an 11 year old. I got the standard, "Oh, you were really young when you had him then eh? You should have been more careful. Did you finish university? It's too bad you didn't."

All those small sentences are a huge judgement of my character. As if he somehow always suspected that I was a "slut" (that would be his opinion NOT mine) who would drop out and have kids instead of finishing university.

And I wanted to jump to defend myself. But I didn't. If someone has that low an opinion of you, nothing you say can change it.

I could play the "adoption card" and try to make him feel bad for his judgements; to make myself seem self sacrificing and martyr-ish, except that I'm not either of those things. I do my best every day for my kids, and that's all I can do.

My choices are my own. My life is my own. My children are THEIR own- and I am so proud of them. Our lives are what we make of them. I owe nobody an apology for the life I've made. Parenting my children is the best thing I've ever been able to do, and the most important job I could ever have is to raise them properly (and by properly, I mean so that they love themselves and are happy).

I don't care how smart my kids are (well, I do, but not in a scary, obsessive way).

I love to use the fact that my son won National Honours in Maths last year in as many conversations as I can. My 5 year old can sound words out (when she feels like it) on her own. My 8 month old won’t crawl, but she loves showers.

I think every child has their own unique and beautiful talents, and given the right encouragement will grow to be happy and healthy adults.

THAT’s all I truly care about. My children might not be the best at everything, or maybe they won’t be good at anything. But they’ll be loved just the same. And I think that might be more important than feeling great about an accomplishment.

There will always be someone ‘better’ at something.

But nobody will be as loved by me as they are. And nothing, no amount of genius-i-ousity or talent will make me love them more, and nothing could ever make me love them less. And because of that, one persons judgement of me doesn't matter at all.

New Kid on the Block.

It's been such a long time since I wrote. Simply because between older children, a full time job and finding out I was pregnant with one more teensy monster- I didn't have the energy or the inclination to find very much of amusement for the last 11 months.

Fortunately for you, I have regained a sense of humour about life. Or about myself more accurately.

A week ago someone I love pointed out to me that we have more children than Poppa Smurf. That's an exaggeration, but point taken. We're DONE with this baby shit. First chance I get, I'm taking a pair of safety scissors (the only kind in the house) to my husbands scrotum. I hope that works.

Anyhow, a breakdown of my last 11 months.

You forget how much being pregnant sucks- until it happens again. You remember the swelling, the soreness, the weight gain and everything else, and wonder how you'd forgotten.

Then amidst: swearing; promises; threats; vows of eternal retribution; and (if you are lucky) a visit from a top notch OBGYN and (if you're as much of a pansy as I am) a beloved anesthesiologist- you have yet one more wee miracle to love.

Now, it's not that I don't love children. I do. I have enough of them to prove it. It's not that I don't like babies. No, wait, that was right. I don't like babies. In fact, I'll go so far as to say babies are bullsh*t.

They don't talk. They cry.

They don't use a toilet, they crap in your hand (and everywhere else they can) while you are nursing them.

They don't sleep at night when everyone else is sleeping. They sleep all day, giving you just enough time to clean (the mess the older kids made) and do the laundry- before they wake up again.

There is literally NO sleep for a stay at home parent until the baby is around 3 months old.

Also, she's a jerk. She cries constantly for me to hold her. I can't do that. I have to cook, clean, make lunches, make breakfasts, do laundry and have time to shower (which I often don't bother to do any more). So, I get to listen to her scream for about 3 hours every day.

Having said this, I love my newest baby very much indeed. She is very cute. I know I will look back at her baby pictures one day and wonder how I ever thought she was so very pretty (it's what I do with the older ones)- but for right now, I know she is lovely and happy and healthy.

And loved. Despite my complaining, I love every single minute with her.

Some people like a 4 year old (old enough to be out of diapers, and understand the word "NO"). But I'm a bigger fan of the age when they have to stay where you put them because they can't walk on their own. They get into less trouble that way.

This is the best she'll behave until she's in preschool. It's downhill from here.

Taking it back (to the old school)....

Well, I'm taking it back today, to one of my original posts. About the language I speak. And one of the words I like to use.

The word of the day is "multicool".

It's all one word, it's derogatory, and it's useful.

The definition of multicool? Well, I guess that it's hard to define.

No. No it's not.

You know that guy who lives about a block away from you? The one with the black or red a) Civic b) Mazda 6 Series or c) any Acura? He always has the stereo jacked up to "shrieking"?

He's probably listening to a good song- but if you drive behind him for a while, you'll notice he's got it on 'repeat' (he's trying to teach himself all the words before he hits the bar tonight- just so the girls at the bar will think he has MAD RAP SKILLS). He wears a tee shirt, with his celtic arm band/ tribal/ barbed wire tat showing? And a puffed vest? Ripped knee jeans? Occasionally, you'll see him with a shell necklace- but that's not often. Only the older ones do it. Shades, a hat (or visor) and ALWAYS drives with one arm out the window. Him.

He's multicool.

 

He's so busy doing ALL the "cool" things from the latest fashion, that he is COMPLETELY the opposite of cool. I've also heard this called, "Douchebaggery". True enough.

There is another form of multicool though. This applies to the woman. You know her too. You see her at the gym- wearing LuluLemon yoga pants and makeup? Her 'normal' attire is a skirt, a shirt that's too tight, and five inch heels? She's got a tan that wouldn't look real if she was an oompaloompa.

Every single one of her profile pictures was taken by herself- with the camera above her at arms' length. And she's making "duckface" in at least 190 of the 200 profile pics she has. She's not 18. She's 30+. This doesn't automatically classifies her as a "cougar"- because she isn't looking for someone younger.

She's looking for someone older- and richer. She is also multicool.

That's the word of the day b's and g's. Use it well.