Conspicuous Families

As I’ve discussed before, I have a prejudice of sorts about people who are not willing to adopt transracially. I’m trying to be less judgmental about it and so I try to understand by coming up with various theories about why people are not willing to adopt transracially. One my theories goes like this:

When you adopt transracially, you are “putting yourself out there” in a way that people who adopt children who look like themselves are not.

You give up a little bit of your privacy. The most casual observer sees my family—white dad, white mom, black child—and probably makes all kinds of assumptions about us. Just by looking, one would guess that Lil Sweetie is not our biological child. People sometimes incorrectly guess that Lil Sweetie is a foster child or a grand child. People may guess that Mr. Sweetie or I are infertile. People sometimes wrongly assume that Lil Sweetie was not born in the U.S.

To adopt transracially, you have to be comfortable with people looking at your family differently, being curious about your family, making assumptions about your family. You have to become comfortable with your infertility (if you are infertile) and not mind people knowing or guessing that some of your parts are broken. You have to be comfortable with strangers asking questions. Well, I guess that’s not true...you don’t have to be comfortable with it. But it’s gonna happen, so you have to be prepared.

I thought I was prepared. My standard response to nosy questions from strangers and acquaintances has been "Why do you ask?" Sometimes people say "Because we are thinking about adopting," in which case I try to answer their questions. But most of the time, people are too embarrassed to admit "Because I’m nosy" and so they sort of mumble something and scurry away.

But I wasn’t really prepared for questions from children. I remember when Lil Sweetie was just a baby, an older child at the day care/private school asked, "How come you got a black baby?" My mind raced through possible responses, none of which seemed appropriate, and then I finally blurted out, "Because some families are chocolate and some families are vanilla but my family is chocolate-vanilla swirl." It satisfied the kid and she scampered off so that has become my standard response to most questions from kids. Sometimes, though, a kid will ask something like "How come her mama couldn’t take care of her?" Those children I want to give a pinch to (at least when they ask the question in front of Lil Sweetie) but I just say that I am her mother and I take very good care of her, thank you very much, and if they have further questions about adoption, they should ask their mom or dad.

This weekend, we attended the Africa West festival here in Oklahoma City. And we got more than a few looks from people. Friendly looks, but still looks. People notice us. After seven years, we are used to it. But I can see that this is not for everybody. For people who are extremely shy or extremely private, the conspicuous aspect of transracial adoption would probably be a nightmare.

Which is a shame, because transracial adoption has enriched my life so much. It has enriched the lives of many people I know. It opens up whole new worlds, when you adopt a child of another race. It’s sort of like that moment in the Wizard of Oz when the film switches from black-and-white to color. I hate to sound like a moron but there were all kinds of things happening in the world that I knew little about, or that I knew about but didn’t take personally. Now as the mother of a black child, I follow news events affecting African-Americans more closely, I study black history more diligently. I speak up about things. I question things. I’m more curious, not only about African-American culture, but all cultures.

It amazes me how people grow when a baby of another race enters their life, even peripherally. Friends and family now notice how rare it is to find a birthday card with a black child on it, or how black Barbie doesn’t have black features, or they get irate because there is no black Disney princess. A friend who is a staunch Republican sent me a copy of President Obama’s signature because she knows how meaningful it is to us to have a black President.

So yes, the fact that we are a multi-racial family makes us conspicuous, and occasionally invites comments and questions that we would just as soon not have to deal with it. But the rewards of being Lil Sweetie’s mama are soooooo worth it.

Creative Pursuits

So, my cousin S. and her hubby both turned 50 recently and I wanted to acknowledge this milestone in some way. After much thinking, I came up with an idea: A Midlife Crisis in a Box!

Here's what I came up with:



It was surprisingly easy to find a cheetah-print box. The label I added myself.

Here's what it looked like inside the box:




Here is a close-up of some of the items:

Some temporary tattoos, some magnetic earrings that can be used anywhere you can get 'em to stick, and some red hair dye. I added a sticker to the red hair dye that said, "Nothing says 'Cougar on the prowl' like dyed red hair."


Of course, there had to a motorcycle and a sports car, right? Then, I found some silly things at the dollar store...I added a label to the "pocket volcano" that said, "Because you have to explain those hot flashes some how!" The boy and girl were original "grow your own law enforcement officer" (no respect to law enforcement, but huh?) and "grow your own best friend." (So sad!) I took them out of the original packaging and turned them into "grow your own boyfriend" and "grow your own girlfriend." So much more convenient than trolling in bars or online!

A midlife crisis so often opens up a whole can of worms, which I conveniently included. I just took a little tin intended for organizing scrapbooking supplies, filled it with gummy worms and slapped on a label. The "martini seeds" label says, "Plant seeds in glass of vodka or gin. Fertilize with vermouth." Then there is the Po' Boy Brand Viagra for "when your get up and go has got up and went." It's full of green M&Ms.

My favorite part was the do-it-yourself plastic surgery kit. It's duct tape. The label on the bottom has instructions which say "For liposuction, breast reduction, tummy tuck: Wrap tape around offending body part 'til it don't stick out so far. For face lift or breast life: Hike offending body part back up where it used to be and secure with tape."

I feel kind of bad because I'm not sure my cousin liked the gift that much. But I had a great time putting it together!

The Doing of the Hair

By far, the biggest challenge for this little ol’ white lady in raising a daughter of color is the hair. Oh my goodness, the hair. Such a challenge!

I know that I have spent hundreds of dollars on hair products over the years. I had no idea what I was doing and was susceptible to the advice of every black grandma I ran into. Lil Sweetie, bless her heart, didn’t have much hair for the first three or so years of her life. And what little she had was so delicate. It was like trying to comb out cotton candy, constantly twisting up on itself into little knots and then breaking off the minute I tried to comb it. I combed that baby’s hair twice a day and it still knotted up.

But I tried. God knows I tried. I greased that baby’s head every day and once a week, I would wash her hair and put a heavy duty conditioner on it, slap a shower cap on her and leave it on a good while, then rinse that out and put a leave-on conditioner in her hair. Those were some challenging times. I remember one time, she decided after I got her hair lathered up that she was DONE. Well, I couldn’t leave shampoo in her hair and I really couldn’t wash it without conditioning it so we struggled and fought through the process. When Mr. Sweetie got home later, Lil Sweetie ran to him and gave me a dirty look and said, “Mama hates the baby.” Ouch!

You need to know that hair is vitally important in the black community. If your child’s hair is a mess, you are not a good mother. Period. And I believe that goes double if you are a white lady raising a black child. In my experience, that is just the way it is.

Friends, caregivers at the daycare, all kinds of people tried to help. One friend took me to the black hair care store, and Lordy is it different from the places where I buy my hair products! You can buy hair in there in any color of the rainbow, beads, things that look like medieval torture devices. It truly is a whole different world. It’s a great place to get cute barrettes and pony tail holders, though! So cute! So cheap! So many choices!

I finally found a woman who was going to help me with Lil Sweetie’s hair. A professional. I don’t care how ridiculous it was to take my 3-year-old to the hair salon, I needed HELP, y’all. So off we went, and Lil Sweetie got braids which looked cute and worked well for a while.

And it was such an experience! I liked putting myself in a situation where I was the only person of my race in the room, because that is my daughter’s experience some of the time and it seems only fair. Sometimes I got some funny looks but for the most part, people were kind to me and my child. And just like the beauty supply place, things were different. There were red-hot instruments that made hair smoke! There was also Patrick the Chicken Man, who came in with his ice chest full of barbecue chicken wings that he would sell you to snack on while you sat under the dryer. I’ve gotten my hair done my whole life but that was my first introduction to Patrick the Chicken Man. But dang those wings were good!

So the braids worked well for a while and then Lil Sweetie’s hair started falling out all around her hair line. I think it’s called losing your edges. Miss Hair Care Person #1 said Lil Sweetie’s hair needed a break from the braids and a relaxer was the answer. I did not want to ever put a relaxer on her hair. I figured that was Lil Sweetie's decision to make, when she was old enough. But here was a professional, convincing me that this was the thing to do. So I did. And it was cute. 'Til it started breaking off.

Then, one day, a woman approached us at McDonald’s and begged me not to put another relaxer on Lil Sweetie’s hair. She (of course) was a hair care professional and gave me her card. Coincidentally, we had an appointment at the beauty shop later that evening. I was so confused! Maybe it’s silly to pray about your daughter’s hair but that’s what I did. I told God of my confusion and asked him to show me what to do.

We drove over to the beauty shop and it was dark, locked up tight. I had never before seen it empty like that. Not even Patrick the Chicken Man was there. We waited 15 minutes past our appointment time and then I said, “Thanks, God, for showing me so clearly that this is not the thing to do.” So I called the McDonald’s lady and booked an appointment with her.

Oh my goodness, I do not want to relive the horror that was the McDonald's lady's attempts at doing Lil Sweetie's hair. Suffice it say it was not a positive experience.

So, I was whining to a friend at work who happens to be black, and she handed me a business card. Glory Hallelujah! Third time is a charm! Miss Hair Care Person #3 is the best. She is sweet to my child, and Lil Sweetie's hair is longer and healthier than it has ever been. I spend close to a $100 a month on my daughter's hair and I make no apology for it. It is worth every damn penny.

Gotcha Day

Ugh. I hate that phrase. Hate. It. In case you don’t know, “Gotcha Day” is a term that people in the adoption community use to describe the day that an adopted child joins his or her adopted family, and/or the day that the adoption becomes finalized. Many adoptive families observe Gotcha Day with special celebrations, such as a special meal or lighting a candle or giving small gifts.

I have no problem with the idea of “Gotcha Day.” I just don’t like the name. To me, “Gotcha Day” sounds like the kid was snatched up off a shelf somewhere. To me, it reeks of possession, of ownership, of child as chattel.

We were lucky to bring Lil Sweetie home about 36 hours after her birth, and so it never made sense to us to celebrate the day she joined our family, just two days after her birthday. Especially since the spoiled little darling’s birthday celebration tends to spill over several days anyway. However, the day that our adoption became final is a very special day.

You need to know that way before Lil Sweetie was born, Mr. Sweetie and I were married in a surprise wedding ceremony in November 1997. All during our courtship, I had been pressing for marriage and Mr. Sweetie had cold feet. But once he made up his mind, he wanted to get married RIGHT NOW. I suggested we wait a few months until Valentine’s Day (shut up) but he would not hear of it. It had to be immediately, if not sooner. Hence, the surprise wedding so that we could have our families there without a lot of planning and rigmarole.

Much to our dismay, Mr. Sweetie’s beloved, sainted mother suddenly and unexpectedly passed away December 17th, just about three weeks after our wedding. We were so grateful that we got married when we did, so that she had been there for our wedding.

Since then, December 17th has always been a hard, bitter day in our family.

Fast forward five years to December 17, 2002. We had learned the best way to handle the grief of that day was just to power through as best we could, so we were going about our usual routine. About mid-way through the day, I got a phone call at work from Kiera at the Local Adoption Agency. She told me that the judge had signed the order making our adoption final and Lil Sweetie was now and forever a permanent part of our family. Such joy! I could not wait to call Mr. Sweetie and give him something to smile about on that hard, bitter day.

So even though I don’t like the term, December 17th is our “Gotcha Day.” Sometimes we celebrate it, sometimes we don’t. But December 17th is always a day full of Memories for us.

Ten Things I Wish I had Known When I Graduated from College

Here is something I wrote for another young cousin who just graduated from college:

Ten Things I Wish I Knew When I Graduated College

1. There is nothing to be scared of. The economy was bad when I graduated from college, too. And still, companies kept hiring people, I found a job, and look at me now, all these years later, I’m a mid-level bureaucrat! But the important thing is that I’m employed and happy, even after starting off in a bad economy. You’ll be just fine too.

2. You get do-overs in life. If you get out there and decide that you hate the choices you have made, you can always choose differently—different career, different degree, different apartment, different city...

3. Nobody knows what they are doing. When I was your age, I kept waiting until I knew all those things I thought grown-ups were supposed to know, like how much car insurance you really need and how to negotiate a better rate on your credit card. I finally figured out nobody knows what they are doing and we all just sort of make it up as we go along and somehow it works out ok.

4. Nobody knows what they want to be when they grow up. Many people change careers several times during their working lives and the world does not come to an end. It’s true.

5. Writing things down seems to make them happen. I don’t know why this works but I swear to you it does, and I’m not usually a believer in New Age woo-woo stuff. I just know that when I have written down what I wanted my life to look like, darned if I don’t go back a few years later and re-read it and realize that my life looks exactly like what I wrote down. (Note to self: Write down what life looks like after winning the lottery.)

6. Good credit is a wonderful thing to have. Boring, but true. Pay your bills on time, don’t get behind, don’t bite off more than you can chew. When you have good credit and a crisis comes along, you can get a loan for the things you need, if it’s the kind of crisis that can be solved (or at least made better) through the purchase of goods and/or services. Life is just easier when you have a good credit score.

7. Don’t worry about what other people think. Usually, other people are too worried about what everyone thinks about them to figure out what they think about you. The people who matter will love you and the people who don’t love you, don’t matter. I swear this is true.

8. Say yes. Your dream job opens up but you are afraid you won’t even get an interview? Apply anyway. You are dying to take an art class/horseback riding lessons/a scuba diving course but are afraid you will look ridiculous? Sign up anyway. Want to vacation in Paris but don’t speak a word of French? Book the vacation anyway! Except in regards to dubious sexual partners, criminal activity, pyramid schemes, and illicit drugs, people rarely regret saying “yes” to things.

9. Baby steps. Many things in life are frightening when you look at the big picture. So break it down into baby steps. For me, law school was scary so I didn’t even think about it, I just took the LSAT. Then I applied to law schools and looked into financial aid. Then I enrolled. Baby step by baby step, I graduated from law school and passed the bar. I speak from experience when I say the baby step method can also be used to find the love of your life, purchase a home, and adopt a child.

10. Don’t forget who you are. You are a smart, talented, beautiful young woman with unique gifts to share with the world. And no matter what happens in life, you have friends and family who love and adore you.

Ten Things I Wish I had Known When I Started College

This is something I wrote for a young cousin of mine who just graduated from high school:

Ten Things I Wish I Knew When I Started College

1. The Trilogy of Education. There are three main things to do at college: study, sleep, and party. But there is time to do only two of these three things in a day. Some kids choose to sleep and study. They are boring and have no fun. Some kids choose to sleep and party. They are called “drop outs.” Some kids party and study, which leads to crankiness and dependence on caffeine. For a successful college experience, study and sleep during the week, then sleep and party on the weekend.

2. Don’t be a stranger with your professors. Go by during office hours and ask a question now and then. Eventually you will need a reference for a scholarship or job, and a professor will be far more willing to write you one if they know who you are! I have also known professors to allow a student who was one or two points away from an “A” or a “B” to do some extra credit to make up the point and get the higher grade.

3. There is no reason to feel lonely when you live in a dorm. Pop some popcorn in the microwave and hang out. Soon, someone will be asking, “Can I have some of that?” The smell of popcorn is hard to resist.

4. Don’t drink trashcan punch at a party. There is no telling what is in it. Seriously.

5. Nobody knows what they want to be when they grow up. It’s ok if you don’t either. Try out a major and if it doesn’t work out, change your major to something else. Changing your major is not the life crisis some people make it out to be.

6. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. There are all kinds of resources at college. If you are not doing well in a class, ask your professor or your advisor what to do. If you are sick or depressed, go to the student clinic. Take advantage of the resources available to you.

7. Baby steps. Some things are overwhelming if you look at the big picture, so break it down into baby steps. Don’t freak out over having to do a term paper. Just pick a topic. Then do your research. Write a first draft. Edit your draft. Turn it in. Done! See? Baby steps!

8. College is easy. Go to class and pay attention. Do the reading and the assignments. That’s it. If you do these things, it is almost impossible to flunk out.

9. Don’t forget why you are there. College is “adulthood light,” adulthood with a safety net. Everyone is hoping you will succeed but everyone is ready to help you if you take a misstep here or there. Practice being a grown-up, then act like a kid again. Repeat.

10. Don’t forget who you are. You are a smart, beautiful, talented girl. You have great things to offer the world. You can achieve just about anything you set your mind to. Most of all, you have friends and family who love and adore you.

Again, With the Book

George Corrigan would wake his young daughter with "Lovey, let's get to it! It's gonna be a great day!" Mr. Sweetie wakes up Lil Sweetie every morning with "Wake up! Something GOOD is going to happen today!"

Good daddying just makes me go weak in the knees. How 'bout you?