ANYONE INTERESTED IN BOOKS ON ADOPTION? discussion
That first sight.
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THINGS NEVER TO SAY TO AN ADOPTIVE PARENT.
Sadly, I've heard them all, the worst being "Well it's not like having your own, is it?" Shudder, shudder!
Do Check below. Unfortunately I had trouble pasting it.
http://thestir.cafemom.com/toddler/15...
Hi June, I'm finally getting over her to post my previous blog. Thanks for the opportunity. I'll be posting a lot more here now that you've put together this resource.October 9, thirty some odd years ago, I arrived at my new foster home. That morning as I’d sat watching cartoons, a woman knocked on the door. Aunt Betty, neatly dressed as always, her blond hair pinned up in a giant bun, came from the back of the house and opened the door. Her eyes were wet and red. There wasn’t much said before me and my things were loaded into the caseworker’s car. Aunt Betty told the caseworker that she’d bring my bedroom furniture to the foster home later, and then she stood like a helpless kitten as we pulled out of the driveway.
I can only imagine the torment that follows having made such a decision. I, however, had no idea what was happening, but as we rode along quietly in the car, the caseworker asked me, “Do you know any Black people?”
“I know Mrs. Peters. She’s a nurse that works with my mom.”
“Well, you’re gonna go live with a nice Black family.”
And that was the beginning of it. For the rest of the ride, I anticipated this “nice Black family,” and in less than an hour, I was deposited into the care of one, Erma Lee.
Within hours of my arrival, Erma Lee and I fell into a disagreement as I overheard her say to someone on the phone, “Her peoples is White, but she’s Black.”
“I’m not Black!” I protested. I was shocked that she would say such a thing, and she was shocked that I was shocked. She hung up the phone and folded her hands in her lap. “What you mean, ‘You ain’t Black?’”
“I’m not.”
“What are you?”
“I’m White.”
“And who told you, you was White?”
“My mom said so.”
This went on back and forth for some time, she asking me questions, and I giving my most compelling answers. But then, she bottom-lined it for me, made it plain in three and a half words: “You’s Black, baby.” And that’s how it all began, my new identity and indoctrination into a new culture.
My biggest challenge upon coming to Erma Lee was two-fold. First of all, I had a problem with my mouth; it was too fresh. And I’m here to tell ya; a fresh-mouthed kid and a Black adult is a recipe for disaster. I’d mastered the use of language at a young age and when I came to Erma Lee, the things that came out of my mouth would often stop grown folks in their tracks. Womanish is what Erma Lee called it, pronouncing it, “omanish,” the “w” being silent. “You just too ‘omanish!” She'd say, and she’d tell her friends, “Honey, this thang done been here b’fo.” Over time, I learned that it wasn’t so much what I said, but where, when, and to whom I said it. Didn’t much matter, though. It seemed like every time I opened my mouth I landed in hot water.
My second issue was the language itself. Much of what Erma Lee accredited to my being ‘omanish was simply my ignorance; I didn’t understand half the things she said to me. The first time she asked me if the light was burning in the kitchen, I immediately looked to see if anything was on fire. Situations like this were easily resolved, though. Generally, context clues were enough for me to figure some things out, like when lights are burning, they’re simply… on.
Other lessons were harder to come by. On one occasion, Erma Lee’s sister-in-law, Aunt Cille, dropped by on her daily walk. We lived in a small town in Northwest Indiana just outside Chicago and people walking the neighborhood to visit family and friends was rather routine. On this particular morning, I descended the stairs, saw the two women chatting, and eased on by and into the kitchen to pour myself some Cheerios. “Excuse me!” Aunt Cille said. “I ain’t slept with you last night!” And after giving it some thought, I replied, “I didn’t say you did.” Needless to say, Aunt Cille was beside herself at what she interpreted as my hallmark mouthiness (or what Erma Lee called being flip), but, indeed, I had NOT slept with her, and I had no idea why she would even say that to me or what she expected me to say in return. Thankfully, Erma Lee knew that I really was clueless, and she tried to smooth it over. But Aunt Cille walked over with her fist on her hip and pointed a shaky finger right at my nose, “You might fool your mama, but you don’t fool me!” Then she walked out and let the screen door slam behind her. Ah! What’s a girl to do? There were plenty of times when being flip had been my intention, but this wasn’t one of them.
However, this one was. Erma Lee’s Aunt Lena, whom everyone called Auntie, but pronounced Aynee, had called one morning wanting me to come over and help her with some piecin’ (I’ll explain piecin’ in another post). Erma Lee dropped me off but came inside to visit for a while. I don’t remember exactly what led up to it, but Erma Lee said to me, “Gal, you got one more time to sass me!” And I knew at that point not to say anything else, but the words slipped out quick and effortless, like a burp. In the seconds it took those three words to slip from my mouth, I’d made a conscientious decision to season them with attitude. “Gal, you got one more time to sass me!” She’d said, and I said, “…and then what?”
Hard to explain what happened next. As if the god Hermes himself had possessed her, Erma Lee leapt from her chair and across the room so fast, I don’t even think her feet hit the floor. But I was 9 and she was 48, so for all of her quickness, I was quicker. I shot up the stairs and locked myself in the hall bathroom, Aynee yelling after me, “Run, child!” Erma Lee stood pounding on the door, threatening to beat me til I roped like okra. She was always threatening to beat me til I roped like okra… “Get out here! I’ma beat you til you rope like okra!”
I could hear Aynee at the foot of the stairs, “Umma,” because she never pronounced it Erma, “let that child alone!” But Erma Lee was jiggling the door knob, promising to rip it off. Aynee, in her 70s, made it to the top of the stairs, and she and Erma Lee went back and forth as to whether I should be held accountable. Aynee said I didn’t know no better because “White chilluns talk to they folks any kinda way.” And Erma Lee said it didn’t matter one way t’other because she was going to break me from it. All I wanted to do was take it all back. If I could’ve squeezed under the belly of that claw-foot tub and disappeared into the floor, I would have. Eventually, Erma Lee gave up and left.
“You know better, now don’t you?” Aynee asked.
Ashamed, I nodded.
“I oughta grab me somethin’ and go to town on you myself!”
We pieced for about four hours, and Aynee fussed at me through most of it. When Erma Lee came back to pick me up, Aynee said, “Don’t be whippin’ on this guh,” because she never pronounced it girl. “I done handled it, so let her alone.” And guess what; Erma Lee left me alone, not even a word about it. And guess what else; she eventually broke me from being flip (kinda, sorta), not from being 'omanish, just from being flip. Even so, I had a long way to go to bone up on the language and vocabulary.
June wrote: "Joanne brought this site to my attention.THINGS NEVER TO SAY TO AN ADOPTIVE PARENT.
Sadly, I've heard them all, the worst being "Well it's not like having your own, is it?" Shudder, shudder!
Do C..."
One lady told my adoptive mother, "Adoption is not for me; you just never know what kind of nightmare you're opening your home to." Eeeek!
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THINGS NEVER TO SAY TO AN ADOPTIVE PARENT.
Sadly, I've heard them all, the worst being "Well it's not like having your own, is it?" Shudder, s..."
My mother said "I breed cows and it's all in the genes. You might be taking in a murderer." Happily, she got over that eventually and learned to love them. I always said that environment meant more than genes but in the end - it's heart that means the most.
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THINGS NEVER TO SAY TO AN ADOPTIVE PARENT.
Sadly, I've heard them all, the worst being "Well it's not like having your own, is it?" Shudder, s..."
Hi Nancy. I just bought your memoir. I LOVE your dialog and can't wait to read the story. It takes me awhile to read anything these days because I have 4 people living with me - we live out in the country with no public transportation. As I am the only one who can drive, I spend my days doing just that.
It is interesting to read about the other side of the adoption/foster-care process, especially as it is written with such color. (Haven't read enough to comment on the emotion yet.)
Check back with us soon. Cheers, June
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THINGS NEVER TO SAY TO AN ADOPTIVE PARENT.
Sadly, I've heard them all, the worst being "Well it's not like having your own, is i..."
Nancy, I have just read the first two chapters of The Truth About Butterflies. Emotion? Wow! I am speechless. What a tragic life! And what a talent you possess! I am not a good enough writer to express the emotion your experiences - your words evoke. I try to avoid sad stories but I can't wait to read more of 'Butterflies". Won't say more until I've finished it.
Already I love that little girl - that woman, and I pray for her to have a peaceful ending to this story.
I hope our other members see this and read your book.
Love, June
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This story so far is about Nancy losing her cherished daughter. Nancy's ability to express her depth of feeling, and the nuances of every small thing have clutched my heart. I am overwhelmed by her heart-breaking loss. Yet, despite the sadness and tears, there is something absolutely beautiful about the way she recounts her painfully intense love. Only a brilliant writer could present their feelings so powerfully that the reader's nerve ends quiver.
I will sing the praises of this sad, haunting book at every opportunity.
It has affected me so much that I could not wait to comment.
Hi June,After a very long year (as if any year is actually longer than any other year), I finally begin my end-of-year vacation today. Although I started Junie Moon earlier this year, I am nowhere near finished. However, it's first in my queue, and I will finish it this month. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and yours!
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Sounds like an interesting book. I will add it to my "to read" list!
June wrote: "After reading that very poignant post on Nancy's blog, I got to remembering the first time I saw my youngest two children.I had already adopted four boys and I did not need any more children. Besi..."
Beautiful, June! Thank you. I like this group already.
Nancy wrote: "June wrote: "Joanne brought this site to my attention.THINGS NEVER TO SAY TO AN ADOPTIVE PARENT.
Sadly, I've heard them all, the worst being "Well it's not like having your own, is it?" Shudder, s..."
Hi Nancy! "It's not like having your own, is it?" I have heard that one from my own brother!
Hi June! I'm Steven. I have adopted two kids from China. A 11 y/o girl (how turned out to be 13), and a 4 y/o. I am finishing a book, "Bu Dong, Adopting an Older Child," which should be available with Amazon by April.
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This group has been very quiet for too long. I'm pleased to see some new life.
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Book recommendations are welcome also.
OK, I am taking a risk here by making a book rec, but it is about being an adopted kid during the "Baby Scoop" Era. It's my memoir.Apple iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/akin...
Amazon.com:
http://www.amazon.com/Akin-Truth-Memo...
Barnes and Noble- print:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/akin-...
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June wrote: "Thanks for your input Steven. I will be happy to read your book when it's ready. This group has been very quiet for too long. I'm pleased to see some new life."
Thank you, June!
Paige wrote: "OK, I am taking a risk here by making a book rec, but it is about being an adopted kid during the "Baby Scoop" Era. It's my memoir.Apple iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/akin......"
It looks like an interesting book. Thank you for the recommendation, June.
Steven wrote: "Nancy wrote: "June wrote: "Joanne brought this site to my attention.THINGS NEVER TO SAY TO AN ADOPTIVE PARENT.
Sadly, I've heard them all, the worst being "Well it's not like having your own, is i..."
Steve, it's painful enough to hear these words ourselves, but I hate it when things like this are said in front of the children. *sigh*
June wrote: "Lovely to hear from you Nancy. I hope your life is full of quiet contentment. You are a beautiful writer. I wish you and your loved ones much happiness over the holidays and in the coming year. XXX"Thank you, June.
I had already adopted four boys and I did not need any more children. Besides, I never took in foster children, reasoning that it would be too hard to give them up when the time came.
The phone rang one day and it was a social worker calling me.
"Could you help us out?" the voice said. "We have two children here who desperately need a place to stay for a few weeks while their family situation is worked out."
I had a foster care license as I was a volunteer with Healing the Children, taking in foreign children until they could be repaired in the hospital and returned to their home-country.
The DSHS worker told me that they were a four year old girl and her three year old brother. It just so happened that I had a spare bedroom all tricked out beautifully in pink. It was a little girl's paradise with a pretty ruffled bedspread, fairies hanging from the glitter speckled ceiling and dolls everywhere. I had always wanted a little girl, but although I eventually gave up, I still kept the room.
The next day the doorbell rang. When I opened it I saw the social worker standing there holding a little blonde girl in one hand and a little boy with a shaved head with the other.
I mentally - instantly, named them Hansel and Gretel.
I could talk much more about these two children. The little girl thought she was in fairyland when she saw her room. The little boy was mute and wild.
I'll wrap this up by saying that those weeks went on and on - and on until eventually, they were relinquished by their mother and I was allowed to adopt them. MORE ABOUT THAT LATER.
Any comments?