Called to the bedside

It might be time to let my grandma go.

My grandma IS my sense of family. She has been there for my sister and I for years when our mother chose not to be.

She is who my idea of family revolves around.

She is the foundation of my world. Of my childhood. Of my kids' world.

We have been through HELL as she has aged with family drama that is so not worth the effort to explain other than to say that those "family" members tried to cost us time with her for their own selfish needs.

She has pneumonia. I am flying out to where she is any minute.

I FREAKING HATE LIVING IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE.

3 hour drive. A flight BACK to Vancouver, a flight North to Edmonton.

I just need to be there. In a way that I can't explain.

Please pray I have time. Please. That's all I want is time enough to get there. I need the prayers of many.

PLEASE God, please.

Adoption Diary: The Introduction

"Why adopt?"

The question that has been asked of us over and over.

We were young.

23 when we started the home study process, 25 when the boys came home.

We were fertile.

Tanner, our biological son, was 4 months old when we attended our first adoption information class. My pregnancy wasn't easy, but it wasn't reason enough to choose not to have more biological children.

We made cute babies.

OK seriously, as if THAT would be a reason people would chose to adopt. But people said it too us. Yes Tanner was SO cute. Yes we still chose to adopt. Seriously people.

But the decision to adopt, or at least try to adopt, had been made long before.

Long before we were married. Long before we got pregnant. Long before we had a son. Adoption was our first choice. A biological child came first, but adoption was never, ever a second choice.


Did I understand fully what being an adoptive parent meant? Of course not.



Did I understand fully what being a transracial parent meant? Of course not.



Did I understand fully what I would need to know, learn and develop in order to be a good parent to my future children? Of course not.



But I did know. Know with a soul searing, life altering knowledge, that I would adopt.



Our adoption story started long before. As a sixteen year old, I was found by my sister. A sister I didn't know existed.

Adoption Thoughts: A Change in Plans

Ok. So this is embarassing.

Really, really embarassing.

Yesterday morning I wrote that long winded post about missing my boys already, even before school starts.

Watching them walk out the door. Leaving for school. How much it hurts to even think about.

Then I got up. Got dressed. Ate breakfast.

Grabbed my 3 youngest (Grouchy Greg was still sleeping) and headed to the school Eric and Caden will be attending for a meeting with Eric's new teacher to discuss his classroom needs.

While I was there, they offerred me a job. As a Teacher's Assistant.

In Eric's class.

I start Tuesday, September 2, 2o08.

You're not getting rid of me yet kiddo.

Adoption Thoughts: When Letting Go is Hard to Do

I am a mom. I love being a mom. I love mothering. I have always been a mom who has wanted to stay home with her kids. Although aching at times for adult conversation, I have never, ever ached to leave my kids with other caregivers. To escape into the work force. To miss out on the days with my boys.

When my boys attended school, I was the mom that drove every field trip. I walked them into class every morning, and picked them up after school every day. They acted disdainful, but I heard about it if I dared miss a day. Ever.

And then, in 2004, we began to homeschool. Together all day, every day. Lots of good, some difficulties. But overall, mostly, it was fun. We are closer in many ways because of it.

And that's all about to end.

Tuesday. September 2, 2008

The day my boys will walk out our front door and enter the halls of various schools. Entrusted to various teachers. Leaving my kitchen table. Leaving ME. 6 hours a day. Every day.

For four years we have been together. Schooling together. Learning together. Being together.

It's time. But its hard. Harder on me than on the boys.

I would like to say that the separation, the letting go, starts next Tuesday, but in reality this entire summer has been a long process of loosening my grip. Letting my boys experience life without me by their side.

There was "family camp". Family camp that really means the boys are off with their friends from dawn until long after dark and if we were lucky we saw them for meals. I actually missed them despite the fact we were in theory all camping together.

There was the Missouri trip. Letting Greg see I trusted him enough to make the sorts of decisions that are involved in meeting his other family. Reality was, for me, there was tearing and sharing involved in that process and it wasn't always easy.

Plus, to go to Missouri, I had to leave my other 3 boys at home. 12 days. The longest separation ever. I had to trust others to parent them. Trust that they would be ok. They were.

Shelby's accident. Kids left behind. Scattered. Shared. Not planned but necessary none the less.

Greg left for hockey camp. He was scouted. He is now noticed by people to whom it counts. Invited to play in front of college scouts in Vegas in the spring, Burnaby next May. Words like "drafted" and "junior hockey" discussed. He is 13.

Imagine if letting my 13 year old walk to school alone causes me to lie awake at night in dread what hearing those words does to me?

"You must be so proud, Greg could be playing in the Big City soon"

"How awesome for you, finally some free time"

No! No! No! I don't want my boys gone. I don't want school to start and daily separation to begin. I don't want to think about my future 15 year old choosing to move out to play a SPORT away from his family for 10 months of the year. I want my family here. I want to be a mom.

And I wonder ... is this because I am simply a mother? Or is this because I am an adoptive mother?

Greg and Eric weren't "mine" until they were 3 and 4. Its been 9 years this coming week since I first held my sons in my arms. I am not ready to let them go. I AM, slowly, and because its the right thing to do, but I do not FEEL ready.

Parenting the older adopted child is some days like parenting in fast forward. Life skips ahead at an alarming rate. Today you meet your child, tomorrow they are grown up. Independent.

You work on attachment with a pre-schooler and then have to let them go to kindergarten. They play their first soccer game and then want to reunite with their first family.

It feels like days, in reality its years. But not enough years for me.

I think there is a process to mothering. A slow, methodical process that allows moms (or at least moms like me!) to let go as their kids grow up. My heart, my mother heart of my boys, is 9 years old. But I am parenting a 12 and 13 year old.

On Tuesday, I will let them go with a smile and a hug.

"You will do great"
"This is so exciting for you"
"I am so proud of you"

Inside? Inside I will be aching for the days missed. For those baby cuddles I never had. For those toddler years shared with another mother. For the memory of a newborn smell I will never know and can't recapture. Coping with how the shock of their teenage independent selves wreaks havoc on my emotions.

My big, beautiful, amazing, mature boys will walk out the door. They will never know, never understand, how much it hurts to let them go.

I want a pause button on life.

Learn Something New Everyday

Seriously, who knew?

You can imagine the groin/groyne jokes by the boys (big and small!) after seeing this sign while camping last week.

And just for your enjoyment - Scenery photos from our camping adventure. Consider this your "Tourism BC" information photo blog for the day. Vancouver is a GORGEOUS city, no doubt. Victoria is stunning year around. But the interiour of the province? We rock too. Come visit.

Ashcroft, BC

Looks pretty, but it's really a mine tailings pond. Look, don't touch!

Ranch lands near our home.

Okanagan Lake. Kids swear they see the Ogopogo every year.

And because my sister will point out to me that my American readers will think we live in the middle of nowhere, AND despite the fact that these photos make it look completely rural - we have PEOPLE and CITIES too. And notice - NO SNOW. Not a single igloo or dog sled in sight.

Adoption Thoughts: The "Bad" Adoptee

We arrived at Greg's hockey tournament Wednesday night. Thrilled to see my giant, independent son!

He was beautiful but oh the stench! I am pretty sure he had been wearing the same clothes for a week. He SMELLED like he had been wearing the same clothes for a year!

We were introduced to Greg's friend, "Nate". We met Nate's dad. Happy, friendly introductions were made all around. Exchange of stories. Exchange of information about mutual friends.

We parents have much in common. The adoption world is not that big. We share friends. We share social workers.

Our boys also have much in common.

Adopted.
American Born.
Black.
Excellent Hockey Players.
Friends.

An hour after we met him, Nate was kicked out of the hockey program.

He was arrested.
He was charged.

Drugs. Weapons.

Nate was gone. No warning, no goodbyes. The police came and searched the boys' room. The kids were all sat down and told what had happened.

Drug paraphernalia found in his bag. It fell out on the ground in front of the counsellor when he reached into his backpack to grab his cell phone. A search found 3 knives and more drugs.

Arrested.
Charged.
Kicked Out.

Shocking and traumatic, as you can imagine, for ALL the boys. Horrifying for the parents.

And then the added burden for Greg. The added burden that unless you have walked in our shoes you don't even think about. Because in Nate, he sees reflection of self. And WORSE, others see a reflection of self.

Adopted.
American Born.
Black.
Excellent Hockey Player.
Friends.

Greg is the OTHER adopted child on the team. The OTHER black player on the team. The OTHER. The child who sticks out. The child the other parents would associate with Nate.

I sat in the stands of the arena and heard the parents discuss the situation.

"Well you know he was adopted, right?"

"He's probably trouble from way back."

"Why do they let kids with problems COME anyways?"

I understood their frustration. I didn't send my 13 year old child away to an elite level athletic program and expect them to be exposed to drugs or weapons either.

But I also ached for my child. For every adopted child and adult.

Every time a negative adoption news story comes out. Every time an adopted teenager makes a mistake or screws up royally. Every time someone looks at my child and see how he excels. How he succeeds. How he stumbles. How he chooses to live his life. Adopted is the label. Adopted is in the mirror of his reflection of self.

"Well he was adopted you know"

"That's Jen, she adopted those boys from the states"

I have no answers. No quick fix. I can only tell my son that I understand its complicated. That its more complicated than it should be. That I understand when Nate got taken away in a police car, that for GREG it was a big deal. A big deal because no matter what, there is no escape from the adoptee reality.

A little more to know about me

'A gossip is one who talks to you about others, a bore is one who talks to you about himself; and a brilliant conversationalist is one who talks to you about yourself.'

My first meme ...

Its supposed to be 6 quirky things about me, but seriously I am not that quirky. So how about 6 things about me you didn't know? In no particular order ...

1) I love to text. Love getting texts. Am a quick texter. Seriously, why talk when you can text?

2) The rocking chair in my living room is my favorite possession. It was my great grandmother's. My mother's water broke while she was sitting in it when she was pregnant with me. Its old. Its ugly. Its creaky. And its MINE. It's so closely tied to my kids idea of being mothered that when Caden was little and sad he's cry "rock me louder mommy" - Knowing we'd end up in the chair together rocking our hearts out.

3) I have 5 friends from high school (hi girls!) and we are in contact almost daily. We have our own website. We do girls' trips once a year. We are as different as can be (right wing, left wing, SAHM, lawyer, counsellor, American, Canadian). But we are sister-friends. The strange thing? In high school, we weren't that close. Actually, a couple of us hated each other. Sometimes life is strange.

4) I have several hundred cousins. My maternal grandmother is one of 17 kids. My other grandparents each had at least 5 siblings. If you have a relative from Maillardville, we are related. Of course, its bonus points if you know where Maillardville is because it isn't really found on any map. I never, ever escape relatives. I registered Greg for high school this year, his school counsellor grew up with my dad. In Mallairdville.

5) I lived in the Philippine jungle for 4 months when I was 18. I got typhoid. Strangely, despite having travelled all over Asia, the Caribbean, the USA and Mexico I have never been east of Saskatchewan in Canada.

6) Between kindergarten and grade 8 I attended 11 schools. I never went back to the same school twice, and twice switched schools half way through the year. This also takes into account the fact I skipped a grade. We moved a lot. My mom was very picky? Really I don't understand the logic. Half way through grade 8 I moved to the school I graduated from. My first day of grade 9 was the first time in my entire life I wasn't the "new girl" on the first day of school. I will never forget that feeling.

So, anything else you want to know about me?

Summer's Last Dance

Summer where I live is beautiful.

It's usually warm, dry, with no humidity. Not too hot, nice cool nights.

It's when neighbours take walks to the park, the kids sleep out on the trampoline, the dog naps in the shade.

It's also BRIEF.

So while its here, we appreciate it. Use it. Enjoy it. And there are only 2 weeks left.

Tomorrow my boys and I head out on the last road trip of the season.

We were supposed to be camping all this week but because of the Knee Cap Incident of 2008 the trip was tentatively cancelled.

Now with the Miracle Recovery of 2008, its been rescheduled, at least for the kids and I. The decision being made that 4 nights is better than none. And we have to go pick up Greg anyways.

As Shel heads off to visit the surgeon tomorrow in a city 3 hours away, I will head off with the trailer and the boys to meet a friend, my sister, her husband and boys and spend these last few days of summer camping.

In the rain. You did hear me mention the BRIEF part of our summer, right? Tonight, its supposed to be a high of 5 C (that's 40 F). And rain. And more rain.

And, of course, I will be spending several hours in the rink watching Greg play hockey.

So between the rain and the rink, it will feel like October. But that's summer in the North for you.

Fleece blankets packed. Sweat shirts packed. Hot Chocolate packed.

Along with shorts, swim suits, sunscreen, and hats. Because its liable to be 40 C (110 F) during the day.

Wish me luck. By Sunday we will be all back together. FINALLY.