Friday, September 12, 2008
Ten Million and One Reasons Why Not
My JoJo is such a bird, but when he wants to attempt a feat, he can be charming and helpful as he demonstrated last night, joining Sabrina and I, while we tried to help Lily with a math puzzle homework assignment that only served to remind me I was a sixth grader 42 years ago and that things have changed.
Chuy, my gifted one, finally stepped in and showed us all the errors of our way, yet it took him until past ten to help Lily complete this chore. She informed me this morning that she'd fretted so hard over that task, that she'd forgotten a paragraph assignment and, of course, the printer balked on me.
I'd read an email from a reporter asking to send a TV crew to follow us around.
Y'all I just don't hear from God that it'd be the right thing to do. Number one is we are boring. Who wants to watch a big-mouthed mama in raggedy clothes picking up crap all over her house while muttering? Who wants to watch aerobic laundry doing? Or me bellowing on the sidelines at a soccer game? Or bending over weeding for hours? Hauling recycling? Sitting in court crying over my children? Shaking when the phone rings? Talking to therapists, probation officers, administrators, teachers and policemen?
I don't think that's what we should do. It's a deep gut feeling that I have, in that I don't believe we are special. I'm trying my best to keep us low-key and normal, can you imagine the stress something like that would put on my children? The meltdowns would be enormous. There'd be no benefit at all, this wouldn't entice people to adopt, which would be my only desire. This wouldn't bring positive attention to adoption, it'd just confirm people's decisions not to adopt from the system. Who'd want what we have?
After soccer practice, we ran to the middle school to pick Memaw up from an away cheerleading event. A few minutes early, the boys can't just sit in the van, they exploded out of it with a soccer ball, and a dozen of them played there while waiting for the bus to arrive. "There's your family, Sabrina," she was told when her bus swung into the lot, "You're sure lucky to have such a lot of brothers and sisters," she was told wistfully as my children are often so informed. My kids generally roll their eyes at that absurdity, although they do find comfort in our numbers - it's just too difficult for them to explain to outsiders who didn't grow up traumatized by the system and their birth families.
But we're not the Waltons, we're not the Brady Bunch. We're a load of children with significant issues, and many are not age appropriate, but rather fall into an infantile range. None of my children would want the world to see then crying in my lap when they're pre-teens. Other 12 years old don't do that...duh, other 12 years olds have been properly parented, not moved from place to place, and abused and neglected.
We're not a pretty sight. We're not for entertainment purposes, I'm here blogging to empathize with other adoptive parents and according to my comments and my emails, my mission is successful.
A long one last night from a mom in similar straits. She wrote my story, as I write hers each day. What I go through is not uncommon, although it often seems deeply debilitating to me as a mom...and to this other mom. If you've only adopted one child from the system, you're very likely to encounter bits and pieces of that which I've so often described. I'll bet that mama, last night (a dear friend of mine) felt better after spilling her guts. I know it works for me, as I've now written several thousand pages here in cyberspace about our own outer space experiences.
My granddaughter, Blanca, asked me at breakfast, "Wouldn't that cramp your space?" as she considered a TV crew in the kitchen. Ya think?
I appreciate this reporter contacting me and for even thinking we'd be interesting on any level. I'm flattered, of course, though not at all tempted to add such a level of intolerable stress. I need to keep focused only on my kids, not on how we'd appear on TV.
Maybe people would then offer to help us financially? But I want a simple life, I want my non-materialistic emphasis, I want to meet our needs, and not to think about largesse. I want to send my kids to college and to teach them about 'creating rather than consuming' I do not mind, at all, scrambling to make ends meet. It's a challenge that I relish. I do get help as it is. My sixth graders are getting scholarshipped to a 4 H camp in a couple of weeks and we have college scholarships. We have everything that we need.
We have four soccer games tomorrow, I need groceries for the weekend, Javy's turning 15 on Sunday, and Carolina offered to make a tres leche cake so I need to go buy what she needs. She's super stressed while waiting for Big Jose to hopefully return in November, and she cooks to relieve her sadness, just as I weed to relieve my own tensions. Yolie and I pigged-out yesterday on churros dulce.
We're so not TV material, but thanks for asking. We're all very flattered. This lady has been reading my blog, and the kids had a really good time this morning at breakfast demonstrating how awful they'd act if there were cameras around. Like they need a reason to act up?
"I'd moon 'em," I was told.
"Heck, Mama'd moon 'em!"
No, I wouldn't. I may now be traumatized also, but not that negatively affected.
"I don't want my birth mom to see me, to find me," one wide-eyed child stated in alarm.
"Honey, I know. That's reason number 10,000,001 why this wouldn't be a good idea."
I have very troubled children. Children who want to sit and cry, children who want to heal, and who want to not be different. I have to help them get there without a spotlight or a TV crew.