It's Not Funny

I try not to be easily offended by others' words or actions.  But today I was so saddened, then mad, and then saddened again by one of my friends.  Two of my friends.  One of them, my closest friend.

Friend 1 retold something he saw on TV to Friend 2.  Friend 2 then told it to me.  It was about a family who was going to meet with a social worker to become adoptive parents.  The dad was being careless with his words (a jerk, really) and said something like,

"So what if she (the social worker) doesn't like me.  Then I just won't buy one of their used babies."

My two friends thought this was hilarious.  It immediately hurt me.

I am mad that this was on television and that a lot of other people heard those words.

I am mad that my two friends are retelling this story and influencing others to think it's funny.

It is not funny to the adopted child who is trying to make sense of his life.  Why didn't my birthparents keep me?  Why are television shows portraying me as a used object, like I have less value than other people?  Am I not the same as my friends?  Does the world look at me as a lesser person?

It is not funny to the birthparents who were in a tough situation that led to an adoptive family raising their child.  Have you placed your child for adoption?  Have you signed the papers to relinquish your parental rights?  Imagine how hard that is.  This is not a casual action, like taking a bag of used toys to Goodwill for someone else to buy.

It is not funny to me, a real life adoptive Mom who is trying so hard to love and build a positive life for my child.  His birthmom could not take care of him.  If she had chosen to parent him, his birth country would have made him feel like a "used baby," not worthy of any kind of status.  That's how it is there when you cannot trace your family bloodline.  The life the TV dad was joking about would have been a real experience for my child.  Do you see why I'm so mad?  This is my child the world and my friends are joking about...  my child and the thousands of other orphans living in our country who are watching shows like this one, overhearing jokes like this one, fighting their own frustrations because they have to live as a "used baby" when all they want is to be 'normal.'

Adopted children are not some thing we buy.  They are not used objects.  What a horrible thing to say.

Gotta Hike

Just as I was ready to write a poem titled Coldness How I Despise Thee, the weather went back to summer sunshine and warmth.  I got this sense of urgency to go hiking before winter locks us in our home for several months.

 The traditional Fall Family Photo at a State Park.

 Daring boys.

 A little closer.

We came around a corner and were surprised by this rock tower.

So that was all Saturday at Shades State Park.  Actually called The Shades of Death, but we leave out the death part.

After church on Sunday I took Peter and Reuben to Holliday Park in The City where we hiked, visited the nature center, and played on their bigger-than-I've-ever-seen playground.  No pictures of that excursion.  But you can imagine.

Now here is today.  McCormick's Creek State Park.  Trail three is .8 miles.  Point eight miles.  I think it took us about two and a half hours.  Maybe three.  We went with some friends and the kids had so much fun.

 Everyone had to hold the frog.

I am going to save this photo for their wedding slide show.

Can you see that Reuben is wet up to his armpits?

They had to check out all the water holes and snail shells and random water spigots.

They would all get on a big rock in the creek, each with a long stick, and pretend to row it as a boat.

They were so cute and creative.

 Peter declared that his goal was to
go the most challenging route.
"And would you please take my picture as I go?"

Then we picnicked and climbed on a playground where a bee went up my capri pant leg and stung me two times.  Lame.

Do I look fulfilled?

It was a lovely weekend.
Three days, three parks,
and sunshine on my shoulders.

Okay, snow, come.

But be quick about it.

Please.

Soccer Pictures

I should be able to remove my Soccer Mom training wheels with this post...

Pictures!!

 We had team pictures today.

Here we are getting into position.

Peter is in the back row, second from the left.

I'm on the right.

Assistant Coach makes it in the photo too!

 

 Game time.

Notice Peter's huge yawn (on the right).

He came to the game directly from a Star Wars sleepover with his cousin Benen.

Lots of creative play, probably not a whole lot of sleeping.

Number 9

Number 9 a little bit closer.

Such a picturesque kick with the harvested corn field and red barn in the background.

Learning from the sidelines.

This is me assistant-coaching.

Look at my super official coach's shirt.

Fun morning in the autumn sunshine.

It's in the 80s today.

LOVE it.

Must explore and crunch leaves at a State Park this afternoon.

Oh, and our team won.

Bonus.

Reuben

It's a good thing that Reuben can neither read nor access the internet because, hello, I forgot to post about his birthday.

Thank you, thank you for your accurate nominations for Worst Mother Ever.  I accept the award and will now move on.

Nearly a month ago, he turned four.

As is our custom, we made his cake together.

"A green dragon cake with black icing and green ice cream."

 

Looks like Paul and Peter are helping him out.

See the dragon in those sprinkles?  Ha.

Birthday cake and ice cream are thrilling...

...especially at 10:07 in the morning.

We don't normally do the Cake Ceremony so early in the day, but... 

...we had a plane to catch.

The boys didn't know it,

but an hour later we were on our way to California.

The occasion?

To witness and celebrate my Dad's baptism.

Had to go.

 Peter very carefully studied the emergency info.

He told me he would prefer to crash land on land, not water.

"You can't use the back exits on water.

Are we going to fly over water?"

Three flights later we were eating my Mom's chili.

(With soda crackers and butter, not peanut butter sandwiches like they do in my current home state.

Is that weird to anyone else?

The PB sandwiches, not the crackers.)

This is my Mom giving Peter lessons on How One Texts.

We are a cell phone-free family and we are pretty clueless on how to operate one.

Pete is 'chatting' with my sister who I got to see about an hour later.

But before I go on to our California Good Times,

we are remembering Reuben's birthday.

Yes.

 A dragon building set.

 He's all about dragons right now

and this one is so great.

 Pinata-ing at Nana and Papa's the night before.

 

Others participated too,

including five cousins.

 How was that?

Good?

Maybe I should include some words of endearment.

Like, he is so funny.

He is strong and brave

and gets to do so much more than Peter was allowed when he was four and his first-time Mama was always hovering nearby in case of An Accident.

Lucky Reuben has a veteran Mama.

Go ahead and climb up that steep embankment over a moving body of water filled with Big Rocks of Doom.

You can do it.

And he can.

And he did.

On Monday.

He is also fiercely independent and persistent.

He is getting better with sharing

and using the empowering phrase:

"When you're done, can I have it?"

instead of just grabbing from others.

Yea Reuben!

We love him very much.

The Feast

Friday and Saturday we went to an historical reinactment of a French fort from the 1700s.  They call it the Feast of the Hunter's Moon.

This is not me, though I wish it was.

How fun.

Friday was an organized field trip and we visited four assigned booths to learn how people lived here three hundred years ago.

Exhibitors were in full costume and welcomed us into their wikiamis.

 

Blacksmiths were making nails.

 We learned about the dulcimer.

 

Then they played with other period instruments.

 

 It was a fun day together.

Saturday morning, not so fun.  Before we headed back to the Feast festivities, Peter had a nine o'clock soccer game.  In the rain.  As in my pant legs were soaked standing there under my umbrella.  Paul and Reuben retreated to the car until the game was finally called.

We came home to change, wait out the rain, and then returned to the Feast.


Saturday was super fun at the fort with a day filled with cricket, dancing, and bagpipe demonstrations, costumed people, rifle and cannon booms, craftsmen and tradesmen selling period toys and food, and this juggling act by two brothers that was pretty hilarious.

And I can't believe I didn't get a picture of the boys with their weapons of choice.  I am so anti-weapon, but alas, I have boys who need to fight and play and express boyness through weaponry.  I read once that this is important in their development of proper manliness.  So we went from booth to booth trying to decide which wooden weapon would be worthy to come home with us.  Rube chose a bow and arrow set and Peter brought home a rifle with a shoulder strap.

So a successful day.  I got to enjoy the dancing and costumes, the boys ate meat on a stick and got a new toy, and Paul... Paul just loved being with us.  He's so sweet like that.  Actually, his big question got answered on Saturday.  Will the guy dressed in only a shirt and flappy bottom covering from Friday still be in costume on this frigid Saturday?

Yes.

Oh my.

This man was quite comfortable and confident

in his little costume.

I think he was a fur trader.

And I think I saw his bottom.

And I don't think he minded.

Tasty Desert

The rise of Islam is our current topic in history.  To visualize the desert of the Arabian Peninsula, we played with our food.

Brown sugar for sand.

Sage leaves from the garden and a stick cracker held together with peanut butter for a palm tree.

And animal crackers for the camels.

Oatmeal canister lid with blue water for the oasis.

We had a good introduction to Islam,

including the five pillars they follow.

This led to Peter and I having an energetic conversation about our future move to Tky and why it is important that we go there.

It was neat.

Which is a lame sentence to end with,

but it was neat.

He's on board with our goal

and I'm glad about that.

Reu-sticks

Maybe you've heard of Poohsticks, a simple game Winnie the Pooh invented by dropping sticks over a bridge.

And to impress your friends with your random knowledge you need to know that there is a World Pooh Sticks Championship on the River Thames each year.

  

Anyway, Reuben invented his own stick game tonight.  Let's call it Reu-sticks.

First, gather all the sticks you can hold.

 Then, sort them on the sidewalk.

Now, throw them up in a big tree.

I watched Reuben do this for a while, then he chose a stick and gave it to me. 

"You try Mom."

So I tossed it up into the tree and watched it fall back down.

"That's okay.  Try it again," he tells me, as if I didn't succeed at something.

"Am I supposed to get it stuck in the tree?"

"No."

Hmm.


A while later Reuben brings Paul a stick and strongly urges him to play.  Right away Paul asks,

"Am I trying to knock down more sticks?"

"Yes."


Oh.  I get it now.  I didn't instinctively know how to play this game like the boys.


If you ever babysit my boys, give Reuben a stick and Peter a book and they'll go off to their own worlds, and you can peruse that magazine that's been waiting for you, or wash your windows, or vacuum out your car.  Whatever.  You will feel uber productive as you multitask with ease.