Growing Family

Our Family Dynamic

I've had something muddling around in my mind for awhile now and have been waiting for it to become clear before I try to articulate it. Well, it's taking too long so I'm going to go ahead and write about it anyway.

Recently Being Mama Daily republished my blog piece about my parenting philosophy. The feedback the piece received gave me some really good food for thought.  I was also a part of a discussion on the Bethany Forums where someone asked why some (white) adoptive families are more comfortable adopting a biracial child instead of a full African American child. When I thought about that question I realized that my answer was very different than it would have been a year or so ago (or pre transracial parenting experience). Before I would have thought that an adoptive family who would adopt a biracial (half AA) child but not an AA child wasn't really comfortable with the racial difference or was trying to get a child that would "pass" or something. Thinking about it now I realized that since bringing Small Sun into our family my confidence that I can raise him to be black and proud has been replaced with a looming question mark instead. On one hand I am encouraged that strength of character, self esteem, confidence, honesty, etc, are traits that will make him a strong black man and I don't need to be black to teach him those. At the same time I realize how many things I CAN'T teach him that will help him feel confident in American black culture. The fact that he is half white makes me feel a little better. Like I know I can't really fail him on that account. I wonder if other families who adopt biracial children feel like that? Like they need to cling to the fact that they can get at least half of the race identity thing right for their child? I know it's so simplistic...but for me it helps.

So this all got me thinking about another aspect of our family dynamic. That is, we are Dutch-American. At least the Captain is, and our children are. I am probably about equally well equipped as an individual, to teach my children to be proud of their Dutch heritage as I am Small Sun's black heritage. I can speak enough Dutch to communicate. I have been in Dutch culture long enough to know and understand nuances that most foreigners miss. I can cook Dutch food. However, I am still a non-Dutch person trying to connect our children with a part of their heritage that I don't share. I doubt our children will identify themselves as Dutch or that they would "fit" in Holland without a lot of effort.  There are lots of things about Dutch culture that we don't want to pass on to our children. That's why we're not living there. So while our house includes Dutch influences, we're making our own dynamic. Our house isn't particularly American either. We're both "Third Culture Kids" if you're familiar with that concept.

So, I guess I'm just working out in my mind the similarities between Small Sun's connection to black culture through our initiatives and all of our connection to Dutch culture. Again, our kids won't be culturally 100% Dutch but they'll have a Dutch passport, and Dutch language skills, and Dutch family to support them. Who's to say what makes a person really Dutch...or really African American?

The Captain recently found Light-Skinned-ed Girl . I can't tell you how refreshing it was to read an adult transracial adoptee perspective that wasn't angry or bitter or depressed. She emphasized that our mixed up families may not fit the molds that are present in American society, but that is because we have a hand in changing the shapes of those molds. The fact that we don't "fit" into one category or another is not cause for upset, but something to be explored as the categories are rapidly changing. I actually cried as I accepted the cyber "Mocha Baby Nod" from her, in acknowledgment of our wonderful family. I really don't have the answers, for us or for other people, but I'm so happy that we're black and we're white and we're Dutch and we're American and all of the other things that make our family specifically us.

I know, I know

I may be repeating myself but I just spent another hour wading through the freak show that is ebay maternity clothes. Why do I do it to myself? The Captain says "this is the time when you step back from the computer", but I just can't! It's like a gruesome scene that draws you in and repels you at the same time. Here are the top five reasons NOT to look at maternity clothes on ebay:

1. Two items does not constitute a "huge lot".
2. Saying it's "hot" doesn't make it true.
3. "Trendy"? Where? When?
4. XL Winnie the Pooh tshirts are not legal maternity wear.
5. (coming from the Captain) "Napoleon Dynamite's girlfriend was pregnant?"

And the Dust Settles

Yesterday my wonderful brother and Sister-in-Law and sweet niece Eden journeyed back to San Diego while my baby sister headed back to Boston. My parents flew up to Nova Scotia where they spend a lot of time. So, the Captain's Mom is settled back into her life in Holland and my family is all off to their various locales. Sigh.

We dubbed this summer "The Summer of the Backyard" and we hosted party after party in celebration, knowing it may be our last summer here. We dubbed August "The Month of the Family" and now that too is gone. My agenda (or date book as you may call it) is a black mess of appointment after appointment until you turn the page to September, where the page is clear and inviting. There are ten weeks left until my due date. This month has been so overwhelmingly busy I've hardly had time to think, let alone write. So now I'm back, I think. Hopefully I'll feel like myself again soon.

I don't know where to start with catching up. I need to tell you about my Gucci shoes, our cat's double spaying, my sister-in-law becoming a U.S. citizen, Small Sun's fear inducing tantrums, what's buzzing in my head about transracial adoption, and my current state of near-constant weepiness that must be the result of a lack of sleep and the hormone roller coaster. Since I can't jump in and tell all those stories back to back, I'll just say that I came to tears (twice) over the re-graveling of our parking spots this week. Yes, it was a moving event, folks. Picture that, laugh if you will, and check in tomorrow for more of what's going on here.

NY Times Article

Hey Guys,

My Girlfriend Carrie, queen of current events, sent me this NY Times article on transracial adoption. I'll try to come back and comment on it later but I just wanted to make sure to throw the link up for those of you interested.

Read here

Confessions from the Third Trimester

Last week began the final third of this pregnancy journey, and many sworn commitments to birth preparation. Mainly, keep walking every night, begin a boob-toughening regimen, keep trying to get enough protein, and do about five ka-zillion kegal exercises a day. My girlfriend said she did 500-1,000 a day so I feel compelled to keep up as we are both "high A" perfectionist types.

So...didn't walk all last week. Ate some junk food. Haven't been very good about abusing my boobs. HATE kegels and have done, maybe 20.

Then I muddle around with excuses - "well, I've still got A LOT of time to prepare". And I just read something online that said you SHOULDN'T try to toughen your breasts, that they will toughen themselves when the baby is chewing on them. Now I just need some evidence that Kegels are actually detrimental to quick and easy labor. I can handle the walking (did some today) and the protein eating (did some of that too).

I keep hearing my mother's voice in my head, telling me how she trained for childbirth as if for a marathon. Exercising every day, uphill, downhill, like mad. And she ate molasses every day, even though she didn't really want to. Great iron, molasses. But my baby, this little Sprout, she likes things like ice cream and chocolate cake. Fortunately she also like lots of fruits and veggies and beans and legumes, but she's into moderation and I have to respect that...right.

Tonight I start a Bradley childbirth preparation class. I've got my two pillows, my comfy clothes, and I'm prepared to get into embarrassing puffing positions with several other couples. I've never been to one of these classes before but I told The Captain that I'm glad I'm getting to go to at least one class this fall. I'm good at classes, at school. I bet the teacher will give me a gold star for being the best pretend birther! I'll put it on the fridge. I wonder what the other couples will be thinking? Will the women (and the men) be comparing pregnancy weight gain to see who is handling it gracefully and who is just out of control? Will a scale of "hot mamas" emerge? You see, the first day of pregnancy class also intimidates like the first day of any class: will they like me? will they think I'm a dork? what if they're all cooler than I am and have better clothes?

So you can see, the third trimester seems to be a little bit of an insanity inducer. I may not be doing any kegels but I'll make sure to put on my lipstick before I go tonight. You've got to prioritize, right? Oi.

Out of the Overflow of the Heart

The mouth speaks.

That's what it says in the Bible. And so, I am cautious to post right now. ;)

Random blah blah:

I know it's been awhile since I've written anything. The summer is winding down. It's been so unbearably hot. I am tired. The Captain's mother has been here for a week and a half and leaves on Sunday. I've been family conductor extraordinaire, trying to keep everyone fed, occupied and happy. We went to Florida for a long weekend and got back last night. The trip didn't go as planned. I got a 135 on my glucose screening test. That wins me a three hour blood test for gestational diabetes, if I so choose. I don't choose. My body feels like a playground for both the child inside and out. Small Sun has been on a roller coaster of happiness and whinyness with all of the changes in home environment and travel. I have felt sick for the last couple weeks with some kind of new pregnancy nausea. Anyway, when I try to open my mouth, all that seems to emit from my heart and through my voice is a nasally whine - "I'm so tired, I feel like crap, blah blah blah." And so...I've got my mouth pinched closed in an attempt to not speak into further existence the grouchiness I feel.

Looking Up

I just spent some time looking at my friend's new photography site and it cheered me up quite a bit. Lillian B is a playgroup mom friend of mine and I think her stuff is beautiful. I think I'm going to book a pregnancy photo session with her. Tomorrow I hit the third trimester mark. Can you believe it? Twelve weeks (give or take) until this baby springs forth like the dawn. I actually have plans, dates, appointments - things in my calendar up until the page suddenly clears - giving me three weeks of time. The Rest. The last chance to sleep for awhile. Time to have a baby shower, wash and fold tiny clothes. Time to prepare myself for this huge change.

Small Sun had his second haircut while we were in Florida. God bless my sister in law for being willing to risk her fingers and his ears as she tries to snip as fast as possible while he lunges forward to see an airplane in the sky, or throws his head back in delight over some sweet inner delight. Then, at the end as we have to pin him down to try to even out the back as he screams and she is afraid she is scarring him for life.

There's been a lot of stress here lately. It is my commitment to not write about my family stresses on this blog, as much of my family reads here. I am searching for some outlet to let the stress seep away. I look out on my parched, weedy garden, dying to dig my fingers in the soil, to clean up the mess, to trim and prune and put into order something that I can order. But it is so hot, I cannot do it. I resent fall coming, but I also dream of cooler, wetter days when I can nurture my garden, letting the stress seep from my fingertips and the promise of growth and new beginnings seep into my soul.