How I spent my summer vacation, by Kae

So, maybe Bee was aiming a bit high last month when she referred to our mediocre return to blogging. But, I'll go along with it and continue our delusions of grandeur by announcing our triumphant return to the blog...at least for the rest of the week. Then Bee will set off for another undisclosed location to do more undisclosed training that I think involves raising a pet, then eating it. So you're in my capable hands until she's released from her POW camp.

Rather than blogging for the past several months, I was doing other things. Kind of important things, like gestating new life. Which is a scientific term for lying on the couch, clutching my bottle of Zofran and trying not to vomit. Which mostly worked. With the Zofran I only threw up a couple times a week, instead of five times daily. (That pregnancy glow is actually the cold sweat that comes with a vom-fest).

30 weeks (maybe a little late on the announcement?)

But with my queasiness safely behind me for the last four weeks (as long as I stick with my BFF Zofran), and the ability to sit upright without the room spinning, and the bedrest/preterm labor fun in the rearview mirror, it's time to move on to more important matters. Like how to congratulate me and Aquaman on our upcoming bundle o' sleepless in a non-offensive, politically correct way.

In case you haven't noticed, our five children have less issues with sunburn than Aquaman and I do.

Contrary to the highly-educated WalMart cashier who thought she had it figured out, it's not actually a recessive gene from me and Aquaman that made them that color. The darker skin comes from their birth families in Ethiopia. And thus begins the need for education about appropriate things to say to an adoptive family that's now expecting a child via the biological route.

Not OK. Not ever:

1. So will this be your first real child?  (Umm....pretty sure they're all real)
2. So this will be your first kid of your own? (See number 1, above)
3. I know lots of families who adopt and then get pregnant! (This one comes down to the tone of voice. It usually implies that it was nice of us to adopt and pass the time until we could "really" start our family. This time with one of those "real" children who's "our own")
4. Were you surprised you could get pregnant? (Mostly inappropriate because you're the cashier at the thrift store and not my sister or best friend. Let's just say I don't question your obstetrical history: "So when you got pregnant were you using contraceptives?" Feels a little invasive, doesn't it?)

Appropriate and appreciated:

1. Congratulations! That's so exciting.
2. Congratulations! I'll be the kids are excited for a new brother or sister!
3. Congratulations!

And for the record, the kids are excited for a new brother or sister. They're just a little confused on the color of this one. Lanky was quite disheartened to hear after a little genetics lesson that this baby wouldn't be brown. After some serious thought, he asked, "But miracles can happen, right?"

Yep. Miracles can definitely happen.

 

 

--Kae--

Knowledge is power...but only if the other guy realizes you're knowledgeable

I'm pretty sure I made some sort of half-hearted promise earlier in the week about an uplifting post coming. It will just have to wait until Bee returns to blogging after spending some quality time in a romantic locale (which may or may not be your friendly neighborhood Air Force base) with Señor Marine. Because I'm fairly certain she's not wasting one second of together time in front of the computer.

Today I had the pleasure of meeting a woman who firmly disproves any of Darwin's theories about evolution or survival of the fittest. Seriously, people, a person this dense should have theoretically been weeded out centuries ago. And yet she's here, she's nearing retirement age, and I can only assume has procreated. So explain that to me, Charles Darwin.

Our conversation started when I told her I had two sets of twins. And she was justifiably impressed with me. Then it came up that they were adopted. To which she replied, "So do you have any of your own?"

Let me interject here... I can guarantee any of my many adoptive mom friends (3 or 4 of whom read this blog) have had to answer this question. And, like me, have felt obligated to answer using the correct terminology. I've never been angry about someone asking this question, just glad to have the chance to educate Joe Public about adoption.

So, I answered with a smile, "Well, they're all our own. But, yes, all five of our kids are adopted."

Usually this is where the lightbulb goes on, the other party understands and the conversation moves on.

She nodded seriously. "So do you have any real kids?"

At this point, I'm pretty sure I just looked bewildered and she looked like the one who knew what was going on. (Can I point out that Aquaman was listening to all this right next to me and never once looked up from his magazine? Thanks for the help, hon.)

Kind of baffled, I kept smiling and said, "Our kids are all real. Their tantrums are very, very real."

And thus ended our session of Politically Correct Adoption Speak 101. I think we all got failing grades.

--Kae--