Beloved Child came home today from her summer job. She has 8 days to get ready to leave for school. A week from tomorrow we go. A week! A week? Is it time already? How can this be?
As I walked this evening, I noticed that one of the swamp maples along the road had turned red, seemingly overnight. The asters are blooming and the ferns on the verges of the road are turning yellow and brown. Fall is approaching. Fall means school. It is time.
It is so interesting to think about my own leaving for college experience. My mom dropped me off, helped me to take my things up the stairs and then she left after saying "good-bye". I don't know what it was like for her (and I am certain that she does not remember). She was pretty involved in her own life at that point. After one more year my brother left for college then she sold the house and moved to New York for 4 years.
I remember that my roommate had not arrived yet, that it was a long weekend and that I was reading Leon Uris's Exodus. I spent the weekend lying on my bed finishing the book and feeling awkward and confused about what I should be doing before classes began. Maybe I walked around campus? I know that we had arena scheduling and I signed up on too many lists of "Christian" interest groups who then began knocking at my door. I was completely naive about the evangelical type of Christians and called home to my ministers (parents of good friends) crying and panic stricken because the evangelicals told me that there was only one way to believe and that was their way. (Consequently I was doing it wrong.)
I was not used to the noise and chaos and my dorm was full of both. I was on the 3rd floor and a giant 7-Up bottle was painted on my ceiling. Cinder block walls, a single bed, a desk and a closet were on my half of the room. I had a trunk, a portable record player and Paddington Bear sheets.
I had just come from a summer job that had been emotionally rough on me. I was kind of (!) lost and alone. No clue what to do in a new town,new school and no touchstone.
Remembering this stuff and now thinking, "O God, please let my daughter have better internal and external resources than I did. Let her know how to reach out for friends and fun. Let her know how to ask questions and ask for help. Let her know that I am here fro her always. Life doesn't have to be so hard."
Flashbacks, memories and hopes. 8 more days.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Did He Just Say That?
Normally I write about Beloved Child and my journey parenting a teen soon to be leaving home for college.
Not today though. So many of you have written about the odd and disconcerting things that people say to you when they see you have a child who might be adopted. Today was my day, but not with my child.
I am not an avid yard saler on a regular basis. This morning I went to the local farmer's market and then decided to stop by a yard sale that I had seen advertised. I parked and walked down the long driveway, noticing that lots of people were leaving but no one was carrying anything that they had purchased (a sign that things are overpriced?). I wandered around for a few minutes and then saw two little girls digging through a bin full of trolls. Of course I had to stop and chat with them about the trolls and the hair color etc. and then with their mom who was standing nearby. After a little chatting about the dolls and the other amazing things the little girls were finding, I asked about her girls, as one was blonde and the other appeared to be African or African American. She told me that the younger one was adopted in Ethiopia. Excitedly, I shared that several of my friends have sons and daughters from Ethiopia and that my own daughter is from China. We engaged in the usual type of conversation that parents do when they have something like this in common - we talked about the waiting, the challenges, the countries etc. and then, (this is the odd part), an older man who was overhearing our conversation jumped in with, "Have you heard how the terrorists are using babies to bring in bombs and weapons to this country and that they put the bombs on them or in them so it doesn't hurt them?"
He went on about babies and terrorists and bombs for a few minutes and then wandered off. I looked at the mom and said something like "Well, that was inappropriate, especially in front of the kids." She responded with "I'll have to think of what to say to people like that when they (the girls) are older and can understand."
I wish I had thought to say to the man "What kind of idiot are you, saying that to a mom and in front of her kids?" Really and truly, I am generally a polite person, but what can you say to someone who says something like this to you?
The mom and I continued to talk, her husband joining the conversation and we exchanged email addresses and moved on, but since the odd man's comments I have been thinking, "Did he just say that?"
p.s. another odd thing - the trolls. If it had been my yard sale I would have been handing out those trolls to every little kid who came along, free for the taking. The yard sale woman came by and said to the mom, "Those are collector's items. I really have to charge $5. a piece for them." $5. for a used troll? Really. I am stunned.
Not today though. So many of you have written about the odd and disconcerting things that people say to you when they see you have a child who might be adopted. Today was my day, but not with my child.
I am not an avid yard saler on a regular basis. This morning I went to the local farmer's market and then decided to stop by a yard sale that I had seen advertised. I parked and walked down the long driveway, noticing that lots of people were leaving but no one was carrying anything that they had purchased (a sign that things are overpriced?). I wandered around for a few minutes and then saw two little girls digging through a bin full of trolls. Of course I had to stop and chat with them about the trolls and the hair color etc. and then with their mom who was standing nearby. After a little chatting about the dolls and the other amazing things the little girls were finding, I asked about her girls, as one was blonde and the other appeared to be African or African American. She told me that the younger one was adopted in Ethiopia. Excitedly, I shared that several of my friends have sons and daughters from Ethiopia and that my own daughter is from China. We engaged in the usual type of conversation that parents do when they have something like this in common - we talked about the waiting, the challenges, the countries etc. and then, (this is the odd part), an older man who was overhearing our conversation jumped in with, "Have you heard how the terrorists are using babies to bring in bombs and weapons to this country and that they put the bombs on them or in them so it doesn't hurt them?"
He went on about babies and terrorists and bombs for a few minutes and then wandered off. I looked at the mom and said something like "Well, that was inappropriate, especially in front of the kids." She responded with "I'll have to think of what to say to people like that when they (the girls) are older and can understand."
I wish I had thought to say to the man "What kind of idiot are you, saying that to a mom and in front of her kids?" Really and truly, I am generally a polite person, but what can you say to someone who says something like this to you?
The mom and I continued to talk, her husband joining the conversation and we exchanged email addresses and moved on, but since the odd man's comments I have been thinking, "Did he just say that?"
p.s. another odd thing - the trolls. If it had been my yard sale I would have been handing out those trolls to every little kid who came along, free for the taking. The yard sale woman came by and said to the mom, "Those are collector's items. I really have to charge $5. a piece for them." $5. for a used troll? Really. I am stunned.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Cleaning Out Cupboards (and bags and boxes)
As Beloved Child continues to enjoy her free time before heading off to her summer job, I am looking through the piles of accumulated "stuff" that has landed in the basement and on the porch, detritus from when she has "cleaned her room". I put "cleaned her room" in quotation marks because when she sorts through her things she cannot bear to actually throw anything out. Instead she puts it in a bag or a box and leaves it somewhere else in the house.
Finding one (or more) of these bags or boxes is like opening a time capsule. There are little girl journals with the first page or two written on. There are craft projects abandoned before completion. There are decks of tiny cards, stubs of crayons, costume jewelry and innumerable stocking stuffers from Christmases gone by, all jumbled in with single mittens and abandoned hair ribbons.
I am pawing through these bags of memories, trying to see what can be mailed to friends' who have littler girls and deciding what is just trash and must, finally, be tossed out. I found a ball of yarn that she spun on her spinning wheel. Hmmm... can't through that out. The box she made in middle school shop class...is that also a must keep? And so it goes, an hour goes by and I have to stop. I need more garbage bags and a plastic tote box for the things that I cannot yet consign to the dump.
It is a hot, summer day here. Beloved Child is at the beach with friends.
I am wandering through the past. Peacefully.
Finding one (or more) of these bags or boxes is like opening a time capsule. There are little girl journals with the first page or two written on. There are craft projects abandoned before completion. There are decks of tiny cards, stubs of crayons, costume jewelry and innumerable stocking stuffers from Christmases gone by, all jumbled in with single mittens and abandoned hair ribbons.
I am pawing through these bags of memories, trying to see what can be mailed to friends' who have littler girls and deciding what is just trash and must, finally, be tossed out. I found a ball of yarn that she spun on her spinning wheel. Hmmm... can't through that out. The box she made in middle school shop class...is that also a must keep? And so it goes, an hour goes by and I have to stop. I need more garbage bags and a plastic tote box for the things that I cannot yet consign to the dump.
It is a hot, summer day here. Beloved Child is at the beach with friends.
I am wandering through the past. Peacefully.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Graduated!
Blue sky 90 degree day.
1000 people under a white tent on a green field.
107 students in caps and gowns.
Red roses. Green covered diplomas.
Beloved Child
Proud Mama.
And so, it is done. An exhausting month of Senior project, presentations and preparations for graduation and now it is finished. Beloved Child says it feels "surreal" that it is over now. All of the build up and preparation and seemingly, in an instant, it is done. The speeches have been heard, the awards received and the applause given. Celebratory meals have been consumed, thank you notes have been written and Grandma is on her way back home. Beloved Child is so very tired. It is now time to rest and reflect, at least for a few days.
It is very odd, after this whole year of preparing for "the end" to have it finally arrive. I wonder if this is the last time she will live at home for any length of time. From now on she will choose whether I know about her classes or her grades or even her friends. I hardly know what to say or write.
I marvel that I have raised a child to this point in her life.
She has wings.
Fly safe, Beloved Child.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
One Week Left
In a week, Beloved Child will graduate from high school.
In seven days she will leave the place that has encouraged her and challenged her for four years
and she will step out into a realm of new opportunities.
She will not look back, fondly or otherwise, she says.
She is already scanning the horizon for what comes next.
In a week, Beloved Child will graduate from high school.
At this moment she is on an airplane, returning from her three week Senior Project. She worked with seals and sea lions doing rescue, rehabilitation and release. Once again she has had amazing opportunities that some of us can only dream of in our imaginations. My child is a girl who says , "Yes", and it shows. Do you want to feel the seals? "Yes." "Do you want to come visit the satellite site that is 2 hours away?" "Yes." "Come watch this surgery." "Okay, sure." At night she is exhausted and worn out. By morning she is on the go again. Tonight she will step off of the plane, hungry for food, tired from the flight and already planning the next adventure. Her wings are unfurling faster than I can keep up.
In a week, Beloved Child will graduate from high school.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
A Week and a Decision
Last Saturday we were at UNH for an Accepted Students event. Walking onto the campus, Beloved Child says, "This is prettier than I thought." Inside my head I was cheering but saying nothing aloud, because I did not want to jinx it. UNH is the school she did not want to apply to EVER. UNH is the school she was not going to go to NO MATTER WHAT! UNH was the safety school that I MADE her apply to in case nothing else worked out. UNH has almost everything she wants in a school except that it is in NH.
She was down to 5 schools to decide from by May 1st, which is "Send in your Money Day" at all colleges. We had waited to go to this event because in truth, she did not want UNH on her list. It was a good visit. We were the only people there to visit with the professor from her major, so it was a one on one conversation about the classes, the opportunities and her interests. We had lunch in one of the dining halls, walked across the main campus where trees were starting to blossom and the grass was turning green.
We came home and she was pleased but non-committal regarding her decision. We had plans to go to Florida the next Friday to look at one more school, a very small liberal arts college on the sea coast. She wanted to see it before she could come to any final choice and then, (cue music of doom)
the car she drives needed to be inspected before it could be re-registered for another year. It is 40 dollars to have it inspected, whether or not it passes. Our deal has been that if she wanted to drive the car that inspections, registration and small repairs (the only kind worth doing on a car so old) are up to her to finance. Monday, the car went to the shop and the car guy told her that it would pass BUT (always a catch) she absolutely had to buy tires right away. She came home and started to look for cheap tires on the internet. I said that was not going to work, as you cannot just have tires delivered from Amazon. They have to be put on, balanced etc. and that she was looking at a minimum of $400.
Tears ensued. "I hate thinking about money!" "I hate that everything costs so much." Again, we talked about choices. I said that if we did not go to Florida to see the school that I could give her the money we would have used for the trip and she could put tires on or she could not get tires and have the money in her account for other things she wanted but not have a car to drive. We talked through her tears about what going to UNH would mean in terms of finances (more choices, no debt) and what it would mean to go to a smaller, private liberal arts school (fewer choices and less discretionary money for travel programs). She had envisioned herself at a "good school", a "mini-Ivy" of some sort and looking at the school she was never going to go to was a struggle.
She likes the options at UNH, she liked what she saw of her program, she loves the travel possibilities. She asked "You won't just come and visit me, will you?" And I assured her that I would only visit if I called first and asked if I could take her to dinner. (I am not likely to drive the hour and a half just on a whim) She wants the "away" experience, even if she is still in our home state.
In the end, she said, "I'll go to UNH." There was some resignation and reluctance. There was a hint of relief. As the week has gone by, I think there might even be some excitement creeping in. I sent the check. She will send in her dorm request and pick an orientation date. Beloved Child is going to college in the Fall and now we know where.
Her wings have a destination now, and she will be building a new nest.
She was down to 5 schools to decide from by May 1st, which is "Send in your Money Day" at all colleges. We had waited to go to this event because in truth, she did not want UNH on her list. It was a good visit. We were the only people there to visit with the professor from her major, so it was a one on one conversation about the classes, the opportunities and her interests. We had lunch in one of the dining halls, walked across the main campus where trees were starting to blossom and the grass was turning green.
We came home and she was pleased but non-committal regarding her decision. We had plans to go to Florida the next Friday to look at one more school, a very small liberal arts college on the sea coast. She wanted to see it before she could come to any final choice and then, (cue music of doom)
the car she drives needed to be inspected before it could be re-registered for another year. It is 40 dollars to have it inspected, whether or not it passes. Our deal has been that if she wanted to drive the car that inspections, registration and small repairs (the only kind worth doing on a car so old) are up to her to finance. Monday, the car went to the shop and the car guy told her that it would pass BUT (always a catch) she absolutely had to buy tires right away. She came home and started to look for cheap tires on the internet. I said that was not going to work, as you cannot just have tires delivered from Amazon. They have to be put on, balanced etc. and that she was looking at a minimum of $400.
Tears ensued. "I hate thinking about money!" "I hate that everything costs so much." Again, we talked about choices. I said that if we did not go to Florida to see the school that I could give her the money we would have used for the trip and she could put tires on or she could not get tires and have the money in her account for other things she wanted but not have a car to drive. We talked through her tears about what going to UNH would mean in terms of finances (more choices, no debt) and what it would mean to go to a smaller, private liberal arts school (fewer choices and less discretionary money for travel programs). She had envisioned herself at a "good school", a "mini-Ivy" of some sort and looking at the school she was never going to go to was a struggle.
She likes the options at UNH, she liked what she saw of her program, she loves the travel possibilities. She asked "You won't just come and visit me, will you?" And I assured her that I would only visit if I called first and asked if I could take her to dinner. (I am not likely to drive the hour and a half just on a whim) She wants the "away" experience, even if she is still in our home state.
In the end, she said, "I'll go to UNH." There was some resignation and reluctance. There was a hint of relief. As the week has gone by, I think there might even be some excitement creeping in. I sent the check. She will send in her dorm request and pick an orientation date. Beloved Child is going to college in the Fall and now we know where.
Her wings have a destination now, and she will be building a new nest.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Being Chinese on the Outside
Pretty much all of Beloved Child's life we have lived in small, rural New England towns. We had a brief sojourn to a college town in Colorado for 4 years and then back to the land of maple trees, many lakes and lots and lots of white people.
Where we live, most people have known Beloved Child since she was very small. Many people remember me bringing her home from China as a tiny infant. They have seen her grow, watched her play soccer and lacrosse, recite poetry at the elementary school talent show, sell Girl Scout cookies and now, watch her prepare to graduate from high school. She has always been one of a half dozen of non-white kids in her grade school and middle school. Beloved Child does not think much about being ethnically different from most of her peers and recently I heard one of her friends tell her , "You are really only Chinese on the outside." A comment that made me both sad and moderately outraged. I tried so hard to expose her to things Chinese and to celebrate her culture and heritage when we were able to do so. And yet, where we live, where I chose to live, has largely formed who she is and how she perceives the world.
All of this is a preface to this morning.
We attended a multi-cultural event for accepted students at one of the colleges on her list. Upon arrival at the check in she was stunned. All of the kids were non-white. They were African-American, Hispanic, Latin American, Middle Eastern, African and there was one other Asian girl. Beloved Child KNEW that this was for students identifying as "multi-cultural" but it had not really sunk in until she saw the group. "Mom, this is weird!", she whispered. "I don't like being pigeon holed into a group" "I like just blending in." I gently challenged her on what sounded like racism..."Wow, buddy, you might want to give this a chance." Inside I cringed. Did I set her up to be ignorant? A racist? Ashamed of her ethnicity? Did by choosing to live in a rural and very white state I deny her the chance to know and interact with a global and diverse population?
My head is spinning.
Clearly there is nothing I can do about this today. Not now. We have traveled, in the U.S and outside of it. Our friends and family are representative of nations and cultures and orientations that are a pretty mixed bag and yet, I am tonight feeling ashamed that I did not do more. Saddened that her sense of self doesn't seem to celebrate the part of her that is unique. I am thinking of you who have very small children and who will face some of these issues as they grow and I am wondering, what will you do differently?
Where we live, most people have known Beloved Child since she was very small. Many people remember me bringing her home from China as a tiny infant. They have seen her grow, watched her play soccer and lacrosse, recite poetry at the elementary school talent show, sell Girl Scout cookies and now, watch her prepare to graduate from high school. She has always been one of a half dozen of non-white kids in her grade school and middle school. Beloved Child does not think much about being ethnically different from most of her peers and recently I heard one of her friends tell her , "You are really only Chinese on the outside." A comment that made me both sad and moderately outraged. I tried so hard to expose her to things Chinese and to celebrate her culture and heritage when we were able to do so. And yet, where we live, where I chose to live, has largely formed who she is and how she perceives the world.
All of this is a preface to this morning.
We attended a multi-cultural event for accepted students at one of the colleges on her list. Upon arrival at the check in she was stunned. All of the kids were non-white. They were African-American, Hispanic, Latin American, Middle Eastern, African and there was one other Asian girl. Beloved Child KNEW that this was for students identifying as "multi-cultural" but it had not really sunk in until she saw the group. "Mom, this is weird!", she whispered. "I don't like being pigeon holed into a group" "I like just blending in." I gently challenged her on what sounded like racism..."Wow, buddy, you might want to give this a chance." Inside I cringed. Did I set her up to be ignorant? A racist? Ashamed of her ethnicity? Did by choosing to live in a rural and very white state I deny her the chance to know and interact with a global and diverse population?
My head is spinning.
Clearly there is nothing I can do about this today. Not now. We have traveled, in the U.S and outside of it. Our friends and family are representative of nations and cultures and orientations that are a pretty mixed bag and yet, I am tonight feeling ashamed that I did not do more. Saddened that her sense of self doesn't seem to celebrate the part of her that is unique. I am thinking of you who have very small children and who will face some of these issues as they grow and I am wondering, what will you do differently?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)