I freakin' love Teletoon Retro.
My kids have all been in their beds for the last 3 hours, and I've been watching Teletoon.
I'm such a grown up.
She-Ra, Transformers, GI Joe, He-Man, Jem and the Holograms.
Castle Greyskull, Etheria, Optimus Prime. All of it.
I'm drifting slowly, inexorably backwards to my childhood. I love it. I can remember playing with my MyLittlePonies, playing with my gramma's She-Ra collection (seriously, my gramma is awesome cool), the Crystal Castle my dad bought me for Christmas one year.
I sometimes wonder if my kids like the cartoons I like as much as I do.
My Pet Monster. Awesome.
Carebears/ Carebear cousins (the original ones Thank You)
DuckTales.
Rescue Rangers.
Darkwing Duck.
I could seriously list about thirty cartoons I watch when there is no one around to laugh at me. And if I hadn't just written about it, and blogged it, most of you STILL wouldn't know that I'm a seven year old wearing a hollowed out grown up skin.
Next time you want someone to baby sit your kids, you should probably consider finding someone who doesn't think spaghetti sandwiches are delicious- and wouldn't let your kids eat a bowl full of sunflower seeds for dinner. Seriously I'd let your kids do that. I know this, because I am frequently tempted to let my own do it.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Open Adoption Roundtable #35: Grandparents
Open Adoption Roundtable #35:
"...we're going to look in the other generational direction: grandparents. While the legal processes of placing and adopting focus on the triad of first parents-child-adoptive parents, the reality is that adoption involves extended family, too. So this time we're offering up a nice, broad prompt to reflect on the influence of, relationships with, and experiences of grandparents in our open adoptions (whichever grandparents you choose)." http://www.productionnotreproduction.com/2012/03/open-adoption-roundtable-35.html
Wow. That's REALLY an open ended prompt now isn't it?
And I guess for me, it's about three different families, and about fifteen sets of grandparents. Because I'm from a 'nuclear' family myself.
I have 4 grandmothers. Yes, 4. Two biological, and two step. I don't call any of them 'step' grammas. They are each and everyone- just my gramma.
I occasionally call my mothers mother by her first name, or even by her intials. My mothers step mom was the first grandparent to talk to me (and one of my teenage friends) about safe sex, and using condoms (which freaked my friend Jen out beyond words).
My bio fathers mother shares a name with my newest- Monster. My other dads mother has never, not once, made me feel like an outsider to her family. From the day my mom and dad got married, I have always, ever, been her grandchild.
I have always just been their granddaughter. Blood doesn't change that.
I can't think of any thing that would change it.
When I started dating my husband, and decided that it was quite serious; I told my family that I was happy. They were happy for me. They are also like quicksand. The first time my grandmother saw Bugs, he was 3 years old, and the first thing my gramma said is "He looks just like her." It was settled then for her.
I had a child, and to them (my family) it meant that my mother had a grandson. My father had a grandson. My aunts and uncles had a(nother) nephew. My grandparents became Great (they were always great in my mind) Grand parents. They never questioned it. We never looked back. We just sucked them in, and aren't letting them out again.
But for Bugs, it meant something more. He didn't "lose" his birth grandparents. How could he? They're family too? They will never stop loving him, they will never stop being a part of him, or of his life. For him, it meant going from having 2 sets of grandparents to having about twenty sets (honestly, my family is effing HUGE). For him, it was no big deal. In fact, he doesn't remember NOT having all of them as grandparents.
For my husband's family, well, it was a big, big deal. When Bugs was born, my husbands' mother was the only 'gramma' (C's mother was 'nana). And suddenly, there were six (my mother and step mom included) NEW "Gramma's". New grammas that I insisted were to be treated the same as any other member of the family.
For the first few years, my mother in law hated being added to the 'one of many' list. She never wanted to be less than the most "important" gramma/ the only "gramma". So, I know it took her several years to understand that my family makes zero differentiation between chosen relationships and blood relationships- and that neither gets preferential treatment. She's adjusted her own world views admirably to encompass more than just 'blood'.
As for C's family, it was scary for them I have no doubts about that. They didn't know C had signed the adoption papers for almost four years after it had been done. C'd been afraid of their reaction. So, she decided not to tell them. She wanted to let them see that nothing was changing, and that they were still his family before telling them about the legal change in their relationship status.
When they found out, they were shocked. And hurt. And angry. And scared. But maybe there was a glimmer of hope- because we'd shown them that we had zero interest in letting them out of the family.
So, it C's family took some time. Now that they know they will never lose their place in our lives, they've opened their hearts to us as well. Being 'nana and grampa J' to our daughters- not just our son. I know that it can be hard, but they never need to worry about being family. Nothing changes family.
Blood might actually run thicker than water- but nothing runs as thick as love (I picture the "tar sands" and bones peeking out).
To me, family isn't blood. Family is love. I always hear, "You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family!"
Well, I do. Get too close and I'll suck you right in. I have friends I consider my family. Having an open heart- and an open adoption- has made me a much better person than I ever hoped I'd be.
"...we're going to look in the other generational direction: grandparents. While the legal processes of placing and adopting focus on the triad of first parents-child-adoptive parents, the reality is that adoption involves extended family, too. So this time we're offering up a nice, broad prompt to reflect on the influence of, relationships with, and experiences of grandparents in our open adoptions (whichever grandparents you choose)." http://www.productionnotreproduction.com/2012/03/open-adoption-roundtable-35.html
Wow. That's REALLY an open ended prompt now isn't it?
And I guess for me, it's about three different families, and about fifteen sets of grandparents. Because I'm from a 'nuclear' family myself.
I have 4 grandmothers. Yes, 4. Two biological, and two step. I don't call any of them 'step' grammas. They are each and everyone- just my gramma.
I occasionally call my mothers mother by her first name, or even by her intials. My mothers step mom was the first grandparent to talk to me (and one of my teenage friends) about safe sex, and using condoms (which freaked my friend Jen out beyond words).
My bio fathers mother shares a name with my newest- Monster. My other dads mother has never, not once, made me feel like an outsider to her family. From the day my mom and dad got married, I have always, ever, been her grandchild.
I have always just been their granddaughter. Blood doesn't change that.
I can't think of any thing that would change it.
When I started dating my husband, and decided that it was quite serious; I told my family that I was happy. They were happy for me. They are also like quicksand. The first time my grandmother saw Bugs, he was 3 years old, and the first thing my gramma said is "He looks just like her." It was settled then for her.
I had a child, and to them (my family) it meant that my mother had a grandson. My father had a grandson. My aunts and uncles had a(nother) nephew. My grandparents became Great (they were always great in my mind) Grand parents. They never questioned it. We never looked back. We just sucked them in, and aren't letting them out again.
But for Bugs, it meant something more. He didn't "lose" his birth grandparents. How could he? They're family too? They will never stop loving him, they will never stop being a part of him, or of his life. For him, it meant going from having 2 sets of grandparents to having about twenty sets (honestly, my family is effing HUGE). For him, it was no big deal. In fact, he doesn't remember NOT having all of them as grandparents.
For my husband's family, well, it was a big, big deal. When Bugs was born, my husbands' mother was the only 'gramma' (C's mother was 'nana). And suddenly, there were six (my mother and step mom included) NEW "Gramma's". New grammas that I insisted were to be treated the same as any other member of the family.
For the first few years, my mother in law hated being added to the 'one of many' list. She never wanted to be less than the most "important" gramma/ the only "gramma". So, I know it took her several years to understand that my family makes zero differentiation between chosen relationships and blood relationships- and that neither gets preferential treatment. She's adjusted her own world views admirably to encompass more than just 'blood'.
As for C's family, it was scary for them I have no doubts about that. They didn't know C had signed the adoption papers for almost four years after it had been done. C'd been afraid of their reaction. So, she decided not to tell them. She wanted to let them see that nothing was changing, and that they were still his family before telling them about the legal change in their relationship status.
When they found out, they were shocked. And hurt. And angry. And scared. But maybe there was a glimmer of hope- because we'd shown them that we had zero interest in letting them out of the family.
So, it C's family took some time. Now that they know they will never lose their place in our lives, they've opened their hearts to us as well. Being 'nana and grampa J' to our daughters- not just our son. I know that it can be hard, but they never need to worry about being family. Nothing changes family.
Blood might actually run thicker than water- but nothing runs as thick as love (I picture the "tar sands" and bones peeking out).
To me, family isn't blood. Family is love. I always hear, "You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family!"
Well, I do. Get too close and I'll suck you right in. I have friends I consider my family. Having an open heart- and an open adoption- has made me a much better person than I ever hoped I'd be.
Monday, March 12, 2012
If Only For A Week.
I was talking with my sister in law the other day about foster care children, and the system itself.
And I was reminded that we are very, very lucky indeed.
My mother would fight tooth and nail for my children. My mother in law would fight. My sister in law would fight for them. There isn't any one person in my whole family who wouldn't do everything in their power to see my children kept safe. Kept together.
But there are other children out there. Other children, right here in Winnipeg, who don't have someone to advocate so viciously on their behalves. Thousands of children whose families are either unwilling, unstable, or simply incapable of taking in these children.
And Child Family Services does their job. Children are taken out of unsafe environments and given over to someone else to care for them. There are private companies who do the same- all for the best interests of the children.
Still, my heart breaks for the children. Not because someone is trying to keep them safe, Thank God someone is doing that. But because they don't have someone in their family fighting for them.
And it makes me cry. So again, we are very lucky. Not only do we have family whom our children could turn to if something tragic happened to my husband and I; we also live in the time and place that we do.
If this were only 10 years ago, and something bad happened to my husband or I, and our families weren't able to take the children, our children would be separated.
They would be sent to different 'group homes'. Because they are aboriginal. Because in order to avoid a 'residential schools' type accusation, the government decided that aboriginal children could NOT be placed in 'white' families.
In order to appear to be preserving heritage, the government unilaterally decided that aboriginal children could only be fostered out to aboriginal families. Unfortunately, there are nowhere near enough aboriginal families looking to become foster parents. Only about 10% of the aboriginal children would find placement under those conditions. And the other 90%? Group homes if they were lucky. A hotel room with a paid babysitter if they were not as lucky.
Siblings split apart, girls over here, boys over there. Young children here, older kids there, teenagers kept apart from both. It's a hard knock being taken from your parents (even with good reason)- but then to be separated from your brothers and sisters? Bad to worse. And if no one stepped forward, willing to take in a family of siblings? Years and years spent apart. Having no personal possessions, nothing of their "own"- other than a garbage bag or back pack full of clothes.
So I cry, because I am lucky enough that no matter what, I will never have to worry that my children will be separated from each other. And I cry because there are children out there who aren't that lucky. And I can hardly wait until our children are older- so that we can foster aboriginal children who aren't as lucky as ours are.
I urge anyone who has the time, desire and stability (it also requires a huge commitment of energy, patience, and love)- consider becoming a foster parent. You probably won't get to "keep" the child you help raise and will, most likely, come to love- but maybe you can offer that child (or children) a safe place to be nothing more than a child. Even if it's only for a week.
And I was reminded that we are very, very lucky indeed.
My mother would fight tooth and nail for my children. My mother in law would fight. My sister in law would fight for them. There isn't any one person in my whole family who wouldn't do everything in their power to see my children kept safe. Kept together.
But there are other children out there. Other children, right here in Winnipeg, who don't have someone to advocate so viciously on their behalves. Thousands of children whose families are either unwilling, unstable, or simply incapable of taking in these children.
And Child Family Services does their job. Children are taken out of unsafe environments and given over to someone else to care for them. There are private companies who do the same- all for the best interests of the children.
Still, my heart breaks for the children. Not because someone is trying to keep them safe, Thank God someone is doing that. But because they don't have someone in their family fighting for them.
And it makes me cry. So again, we are very lucky. Not only do we have family whom our children could turn to if something tragic happened to my husband and I; we also live in the time and place that we do.
If this were only 10 years ago, and something bad happened to my husband or I, and our families weren't able to take the children, our children would be separated.
They would be sent to different 'group homes'. Because they are aboriginal. Because in order to avoid a 'residential schools' type accusation, the government decided that aboriginal children could NOT be placed in 'white' families.
In order to appear to be preserving heritage, the government unilaterally decided that aboriginal children could only be fostered out to aboriginal families. Unfortunately, there are nowhere near enough aboriginal families looking to become foster parents. Only about 10% of the aboriginal children would find placement under those conditions. And the other 90%? Group homes if they were lucky. A hotel room with a paid babysitter if they were not as lucky.
Siblings split apart, girls over here, boys over there. Young children here, older kids there, teenagers kept apart from both. It's a hard knock being taken from your parents (even with good reason)- but then to be separated from your brothers and sisters? Bad to worse. And if no one stepped forward, willing to take in a family of siblings? Years and years spent apart. Having no personal possessions, nothing of their "own"- other than a garbage bag or back pack full of clothes.
So I cry, because I am lucky enough that no matter what, I will never have to worry that my children will be separated from each other. And I cry because there are children out there who aren't that lucky. And I can hardly wait until our children are older- so that we can foster aboriginal children who aren't as lucky as ours are.
I urge anyone who has the time, desire and stability (it also requires a huge commitment of energy, patience, and love)- consider becoming a foster parent. You probably won't get to "keep" the child you help raise and will, most likely, come to love- but maybe you can offer that child (or children) a safe place to be nothing more than a child. Even if it's only for a week.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)