tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13386001721723138142023-11-16T01:51:50.907-05:00adoption toolboxJean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-48739261590960392672016-07-28T22:52:00.001-04:002016-07-28T22:52:48.340-04:00Adoption Toolbox BLOG Has Moved!<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-58474975707194404222013-07-10T08:30:00.000-04:002016-02-08T23:14:08.995-05:00SMALL HEART & the art of juju parenting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We were on our way home from a mad dash to the mall to pick up a graduation gift. It was 95 degrees outside and I had all four windows down since my Honda's air conditioner was being problematic. Lily, my 16 year old, should have been at the wheel practicing her driving on her Learner's Permit, but I had gone all PTSD after that last experience with her 50 MPH parallel park job in the CVS lot, and I was simply too hot for stroke-like spikes of adrenalin. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Hanna, age 13, had purchased a keychain at the mall LEGO store, and it unwrapped with a tiny sheet of warnings. She handed the paper, covered in Chinese calligraphy, up to the front-seat to her big sister who had just finished year #3 of high school Mandarin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> "What does this say, Lily?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Lily looked at the Chinese characters carefully and answered "<i>Xiao Xin</i>...Small Heart."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> I glanced at her sideways. "What? I would have thought it would say 'Be careful - small parts - not for kids under three'."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> "It does," Lily said. "Small heart is 'be careful' in Chinese. You know, protect yourself...keep your heart small so it won't get hurt."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> <b>Aieeee</b>. How perfect! Why waste time on general admonitions like "Be careful, don't do anything stupid" when you can cover the worst of life's hellish misfortunes with a powerful, two-character piece of specifically helpful advice: </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">small heart</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> I could use this new term on almost all parenting situations, and easily protect my 3 daughters and my own mom-vulnerability from little downfalls and large sorrows: </span><br />
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<i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">No running in platform flip-flops!<br />
No putting watch batteries in your mouth!<br />
No falling in love with 17 year old K-pop dancers with cars and undetermined intentions!</i><br />
<i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">SMALL HEART! </i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Driving along, I began to see true potential in this Chinese phrase; I could make the term </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">personal</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">, and use it for dramatic effect. Graduation party? I'm on it.</span></div>
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<b>What I say</b>: "Have fun! Be home before 11:00 pm! (Tap chest meaningfully) Small heart."<br />
<b>Translation</b>: "Have a nice time but don't leave your soda unattended and if I get a call from the police it will kill me and definitely not be good for you."<br />
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This could be fun, but I think I might be kidding myself, and I'm pretty sure that all the moms in China have already figured out the flaw in this handy <span lang="EN">Xiao Xin </span>idiom. There <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> no smalling-down a parent's heart, which overgrows quickly and remains painfully over-sensitive. We warn our children to be careful, we remind them how to make good choices, we even teach them to drive our car - but our warnings and reminders are mere talismans, and our repetition masks both our darkest parental fears and our brightest hopes for our children’s future. What I really mean when I bark "<i>be careful!</i>" is...<br />
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<i>Be happy, be healthy, be loved, stay mine.</i><br />
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However, now I will be sure to add in extra <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">juju</i> from my counterparts on another continent, in hopes that its protective powers will help my daughters through high school, college and beyond: </div>
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Keep that heart <i>small</i>, damnit...</div>
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and let international mother-magic keep us all safe<br />
from breaking.</div>
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<i>Xiao Xin</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>****** </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>by Jean MacLeod </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>Join Us</b>: <b><a href="http://www.facebook.com/AdoptionToolbox" target="_blank">Adoption Toolbox is on Facebook</a>! </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Copyright 2012, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved</span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></div>
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Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-17787816336499536832012-05-22T12:45:00.004-04:002012-05-23T17:11:28.661-04:00The True Secret of Parenting Success<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzsBT7Le-gMioC9KUgR5Ic7mfw-PBO2tKoBLzLBZrFHGPKJzRFD23RPXz-vXT4DF748pksA8JyUilC57WPOwJH2wiazOVSXdXcHyo1gyVfsLs9WZLQls-R4l79Xz2k3zve_x4JkC8UVTz/s1600/4545890658_d0bbc92667_z+640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzsBT7Le-gMioC9KUgR5Ic7mfw-PBO2tKoBLzLBZrFHGPKJzRFD23RPXz-vXT4DF748pksA8JyUilC57WPOwJH2wiazOVSXdXcHyo1gyVfsLs9WZLQls-R4l79Xz2k3zve_x4JkC8UVTz/s320/4545890658_d0bbc92667_z+640.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><div style="font-family: inherit;">I recently asked the list-members on <a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/AdoptionParentingTWEENSandTEENS/" target="_blank">Adoption Parenting Tweens & Teens</a> the following questions about their adoption-parenting experiences:</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"></div><ul><li><b>What do you wish you had been better informed about? </b></li>
<li><b>What has been surprisingly easy / fun? </b></li>
<li><b>What has been really tough?</b></li>
</ul><div style="font-family: inherit;">The answers were thoughtful, insightful and poignant. I wanted to send wine and chocolate to every parent who responded - and to all of the parents who didn't respond because they were simply too gobsmacked by parenting-work-life to take the time to catalog their joys, frustrations and sorrows! </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">I asked adoptive mom<b> Nicole Magnuson's</b> permission to reprint her brief post (below) as she touched on a couple of very important points... and she managed to sum it all up in her wise last line with what I regard as a mini-bite version of <b>The True Secret of Parenting Success</b>. <i>From Nicole:</i><br />
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"Hi all -- So many answers have resonated with me, especially those about being surprised/disappointed about how hard it is, being single and older, and feeling like our kids are "other." I add these thoughts:<br />
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When I became a parent, my friendships changed in ways I didn't expect. I had sort of assumed that my closest friends would help me raise my kid, but several friendships with younger, single/non-parent friends fell away after I adopted my daughter (singly). It was disappointing and felt like a betrayal. I even got negative feedback from my sister, and that was crushing. But then I realized that they hadn't signed up to do it, I had! And over time, it turns out that most of those friends and my sister came around, and some also adopted.<br />
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As a corollary, I would say that it's critical to build yourself support, asking people outright if/how they can help (especially if you're doing it solo), join support/parenting groups (in person and online), think about camps and vacations that will give you a rest and connect you with similar people/kids. I was pleased to find many parents through my daughter's schools--often also adoptive and often also solo--who would trade childcare, overnights, emergency backup, etc., and I worked hard to develop these relationships and to pay forward and pay back.<br />
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About parenting, all I know now is "<i>Never say never or always</i>", because there are a thousand things I thought I would never do that I have done and some that I thought I would always do that simply haven't been possible with this child. (Examples of never: frozen pizza, mac 'n cheese from a box, years of medication, calling 911, consider a barely passing grade more than sufficient, etc.)<br />
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Finally, what I know now is that until I raised my child, I thought nurture would trump nature, but it doesn't. Along the way, I have figured out what she needs, I have made plenty of mistakes, and I now firmly believe that making and maintaining the emotional connection--at every age and stage--is the foundation of figuring out all the other stuff.<br />
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With appreciation for all of us,<br />
<i><span class="email">Nicole Magnuson </span></i><br />
Mom to now-15 domestically adopted girl who is (finally) doing GREAT"<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.adoptiontoolbox.com/" style="font-weight: bold;"></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b>****** </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b>Jean MacLeod </b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b>Join Us</b>: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AdoptionToolbox" target="_blank">Adoption Toolbox is on Facebook</a>! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.adoptiontoolbox.com/" style="font-weight: bold;">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Copyright 2012, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved</span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Image Credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tinyhousepaintings/" target="_blank">Tiny House Paintings</a></div>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-17716585954129546452011-10-06T18:27:00.000-04:002011-10-06T18:27:01.847-04:00Middle Aged Mom @ New Seoul Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36kCNG-4lfVhN55A68sMEj_e5khBfx6g8SRp01lVVIULbRo93MoOzOHxa8ia6RZm9Vf79BjS9XxMDQRJ-KKYdkI1Gapwm6CPWS4BgTtw9z4uM9obsPNgOL5ulS43TCCw-J39DJ5AENLxn/s1600/ggg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-kBZEwatJheWxCkZ5WabNnSedl5lF0Ltvy3llYWDdSw1rCDW34MYof4ce-98HCCzENdAXKcaEhg61BW0gsda4i_GvUIQNrHYKpfflwPy75E2TExUFN-qFesAgi2UJIMZXc5AuI-hrURu/s1600/NSG33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-kBZEwatJheWxCkZ5WabNnSedl5lF0Ltvy3llYWDdSw1rCDW34MYof4ce-98HCCzENdAXKcaEhg61BW0gsda4i_GvUIQNrHYKpfflwPy75E2TExUFN-qFesAgi2UJIMZXc5AuI-hrURu/s320/NSG33.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>Adventures in Transracial Parenting</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Lily, my 15 year-old Chinese American daughter, made plans to visit a Korean restaurant with her best-friend and a couple of Asian school-mates. I had been wanting to go to New Seoul Garden for ages, so I made reservations for the same evening and brought along her best-friend’s entire family. Our parent table was smack next to the teen table, but amazingly, this was acceptable. Interesting what a teen will let you get away with if you’re bringing money and a Groupon coupon to the party…<br />
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The teens had a native Korean speaker with them and basically had their food on the table before my table had figured out the menu. I knew I would have to beg for some menu interpretation help (“and how exactly spicy is <i>very spicy</i>, Jaejoon?”), so I quickly lobbed my foodie questions over to the teens before they shut down on me completely. It worked for a question or two (“explain <i>Chookumi-Bokeum</i> please”) before I got the universal teen vague-look-with-shrug answer. BTW, for future Korean restaurant reference, <i>very spicy</i> means find yourself a burn unit.<br />
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My group, three “older parents” and two little boys under ten, had a very exciting time with the traditional grill built into our very low, wooden table. We managed to order ourselves some <i>bulgolgi</i> and grilled the raw beef with our own Iron Chef flair. Because we couldn’t figure out how to turn the table-stove off, we just kept on grilling.<br />
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“Hurry up and eat it” said my friend Sam, frantically scooping up well-done bits o’ beef and dumping them on my plate. “Before it catches on fire.”<br />
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My mouth was already on fire. A beautiful vegetable tray arrived with our meat, and it featured a tasty <i>kimchi</i> dish. I love cabbage, but this was kimchi stealth cabbage and I was having trouble breathing normally.<br />
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“Maybe I need a Korean beer” I gasped to my cohort, and we vainly looked around for a waiter brave enough to come our way.<br />
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“I’ll go find our server” Sam volunteered. His wife, Laura, and I watched with real interest as Sam attempted to rise from his floor cushion. It wasn’t happening, and Sam was in danger of taking a header into the grill.<br />
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“Never mind, Sam,” I said. “I’ll go.” I manually uncrossed my legs and made lurching motions away from the table.<br />
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“What are you waiting for?” Laura asked.<br />
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“For feeling.” I answered. “In my legs. Any kind of feeling.”<br />
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The teens gracefully got to their feet while laughing and chatting, and stopping by our table, announced that they were off to the movies. I was relieved they were leaving, because I knew that New Seoul Garden wasn’t finished with my table and the only possible outcome was embarrassment.<br />
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“Are they gone?” asked Sam. I glanced across the table at my friend, who was now on all fours. So far, the elegant diners in the other alcove hadn’t noticed us yet, but between the grill fire and us rolling around on the floor I figured it was a matter of time.<br />
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I envied the casual, comfortable way Korean adults handled the restaurant’s traditional seating arrangements. The Korean families looked happy…like they could enjoy a good <i>Hwoe-Dupbap</i>, get up from their foot-high table and their legs would still work.<br />
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“I think we’re too old to eat here”, I said seriously. Sam was crawling furiously toward a server’s tray stand.<br />
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“Sam, get UP,” his wife hissed. “Just ask for the check. We’re scaring people.”<br />
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“Look,” I added. “It’s like Sam found himself a walker.” Laura and I sat open-mouthed as Sam grabbed the tray stand with both hands and heaved to his feet.<br />
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It felt like a miracle-cure tabernacle moment (“Our brother WALKS!”) and I know Laura and I would have appreciated the splendid humor of the moment more fully if we had been able to stand up ourselves. As it was, rigor mortis was cramping our style.<br />
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“If you move I could get to the bathroom,” Laura said pointedly.<br />
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“Don’t kid yourself,” I told her. “A bathroom is not in your immediate future. I’m pretty sure we’ll both be right here in the morning.”<br />
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My cell-phone rang. It was Lily, checking in from the movie theater.<br />
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“Mom? Are guys still at the restaurant?”<br />
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“Yes.” I babbled. “We’re enjoying our food... leisurely dining… so tough to leave.” I giggled helplessly into the phone while watching Laura’s two little boys fight to get her to her feet. “And Lily,” I added. “Sweetie…<i>don’t wait up</i>.”<br />
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My daughter finally broke her mystified silence. “Mom? Have you guys been drinking?” <br />
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I examined my options. I could pretend to be an irresponsible social drinker, or I could be outed as a pathetic middle-ager clearly in need of assisted living.<br />
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“Yep. Alcohol. Lots of it,” I admitted happily. “G-T-G. Partyyyyyyy!” </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB8SzLYrus48CsDDkbaAuhJQk-7gXg0qag69jJIHf3TOND1r_tvcPExcKAG7N6F78Nxuc_eht4h6KvKIGPKaBUkxriNmAPvQWIfeO1nc48I6c5834aSt0mITPs_i2naK-FdE3w0rIujzQ/s1600/NSG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB8SzLYrus48CsDDkbaAuhJQk-7gXg0qag69jJIHf3TOND1r_tvcPExcKAG7N6F78Nxuc_eht4h6KvKIGPKaBUkxriNmAPvQWIfeO1nc48I6c5834aSt0mITPs_i2naK-FdE3w0rIujzQ/s320/NSG.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">By Jean MacLeod<br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: georgia;"><a href="http://www.adoptiontoolbox.com/" style="font-weight: bold;">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: georgia;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Copyright 2011, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved</span></span></div>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-87224083774091088942011-03-20T17:58:00.000-04:002013-03-24T18:19:49.424-04:00Catch Them Before They Fall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b>Connor is the kind of guy every mom wants her daughter to someday meet and marry!</b> Handsome, funny, smart, kind, wealthy and charismatic: Connor has plenty of friends and the respect of his private school teachers (Ivy League recruiters are already beating down his door). He is the all-American ‘golden’ boy, and it is very easy to forget that he is only 17.<br />
<br />
Was. <i>Was</i> only 17.<br />
<br />
He was only 17 when he jumped to his death last month, alone, at 3:00 a.m. from the cold, snowy roof of a luxury apartment building near his elite, college prep boarding school. He left a note to his parents, apologizing.<br />
<br />
Two nights earlier he had been stopped by the police while driving friends back to school after a classmate’s birthday party. He was issued a DUI; his parents were notified by an officer’s long-distance phone call, and were understandably upset.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Drinking and driving? What were you thinking?</i></b> his parents might have said (I would have). Perhaps followed by:<br />
<br />
<i><b>Y</b><b>ou think you’ll get into Harvard with a DUI on your record?!</b></i> (This would be parental fear and hurt talking). Plus, maybe even:<br />
<br />
<b><i>You’ve let everyone down. We thought you were responsible and we are very disappointed.</i></b> The typical parental script.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, Connor’s parents were many states away and couldn’t put their arms around him for a hug once their anger died down. They couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him that <i>no-matter-what</i> he was loved, and that there was no problem in the world that couldn’t be tackled together. Programmed from birth for success, the drunk-driving ticket was an unprecedented first misstep for Connor… but he was sober when he walked off the high-rise two nights later. He suffered the pain and despair of letting down his world, silently. There was no one to stop his fall, no one to ‘catch’ him before he jumped.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem</i></b> his parents would have told him.<br />
<br />
<b><i>You have other options</i></b>, they would have added. <i><b>Sure, we’re upset, but we’ll stand next to you and we’ll get through this together</b>.</i> Plus, probably even:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Every single person on this earth has made at least one stupid mistake. You learn from a mistake, rectify what you can, and are a better, stronger person for the experience. I am proud of you for stepping up. </i></b><br />
<br />
No one expects their teen-ager to commit suicide. What we forget is that our smart, high-achieving, responsible high-schoolers are still in transit from childhood: their brain neurology is in process, their emotions are in flux. Our teens are not equipped to take the long view and discern what is truly life-altering -- or what is merely a tiny glitch in the grand scheme of being.<br />
<br />
Teens live in the intensity of the moment, and their narrow parameters are school, friends and family. Parents draw the boundaries and the expectations. Sometimes we forget to tell our children that our ‘boundaries’ have flexible walls, and that our ‘expectations’ are really declarations of confidence bolstered by our parental love and support. Sometimes we forget that our teens still need us to ‘catch’ them emotionally when they fall, or fail, and that we need to guide them toward healthy problem-solving.<br />
<br />
Suicide may become a viable exit for the teen that is depressed; bullied; socially awkward; stressed and anxious; or a substance abuser. It may become a choice for a teen that sees no way out of intolerable feelings or devastating circumstances, or, who hasn’t had the experience to internalize the idea that time has a way of changing out all ‘hopeless’ situations.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">For some teenagers, normal developmental changes, when compounded by other events or changes in their families such as divorce or moving to a new community, changes in friendships, difficulties in school, or other losses can be very upsetting and can become overwhelming. Problems may appear too difficult or embarrassing to overcome. For some, suicide may seem like a solution</span>.</i></span>” (<a href="http://medicalcenter.osu.edu/patientcare/healthcare_services/mental_health/mental_health_about/children/suicide/Pages/index.aspx">Ohio State University Medical Center</a>) </div>
<br />
Playing at ‘catch’ means parenting to our darkest fear, but we must bravely talk with our teens NOW about handling painful feelings, stupid mistakes or seemingly unbearable situations. We can state, demonstrate and reinforce our unfaltering presence in our children’s lives and openly address suicide alternatives -- and why death is not part of a healthy teen’s arsenal of solutions.<br />
<br />
We can voice over and over what Connor’s parents weren’t given a second chance to say:<br />
<br />
<b><i>I will never be disappointed by the essential you. There is nothing you can do that would make me stop loving you. There is nothing that you could do or feel that we couldn’t get through together. You have options, you have a wonderful future and I will help you find your way there. </i></b><br />
<br />
By Jean MacLeod<br />
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="color: black; font-family: georgia;"><a href="http://www.adoptiontoolbox.com/" style="font-weight: bold;">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br />
</span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Copyright 2011, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>~~~</b></div>
*Note: Name of teen has been changed for privacy<br />
<br />
<b>RESOURCES</b><br />
<br />
<a href="http://medicalcenter.osu.edu/patientcare/healthcare_services/mental_health/mental_health_about/children/suicide/Pages/index.aspx">Teen Suicide</a> (Warning Signs, Treatment, Prevention) from The Ohio State University Medical Center<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.walrusmagazine.com/articles/2006.11-science-the-teenage-brain/1/">The Teenage Brain: Why adolescents sleep in, take risks, and won’t listen to reason</a><br />
by Nora Underwood in The WALRUS<br />
<br />
<a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/tweens.html">How to Talk to Your Teens: Exploring the Stuck Spots</a><br />
by Debbie B. Riley, M.S. in Adoption TODAY Magazine<br />
<br />
<a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/tweens.html">Adoption Toolbox</a> Tween & Teen ArticlesJean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-27494464693159244542011-02-02T16:43:00.000-05:002016-10-17T15:55:10.556-04:00OUT: Tiger Mom -- IN: Panda Mom<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49eaPOkacX2sXvhVaUN3MK9h7DJAqye7gB72n2SiV-hj5te86637WYQ5nbneSG-0ZpegshU2lF4DAmzl_6EP7kOUWbVZKibGno7LRbESxQjtCTkoB-La22Ycz3rGgt5G-FbMvHlW3R0Ct/s1600/4592212510_c8aef7da2d.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569218612061193570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49eaPOkacX2sXvhVaUN3MK9h7DJAqye7gB72n2SiV-hj5te86637WYQ5nbneSG-0ZpegshU2lF4DAmzl_6EP7kOUWbVZKibGno7LRbESxQjtCTkoB-La22Ycz3rGgt5G-FbMvHlW3R0Ct/s320/4592212510_c8aef7da2d.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 301px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">MY</span> take on <a href="http://www.annarbor.com/passions-pursuits/there-are-other-ways-of-being-a-chinese-mother-than-amy-chuas-tiger-mother/">Amy Chua, Tiger Mom</a>? She’s crazed about <span style="font-style: italic;">all of the wrong things</span>. Her dedication to her children’s success is crushingly over the top, however admirable for its ferocity. What Tiger Mom wouldn’t want an Ivy League college, Carnegie Hall debut, Power Marriage and a Career Ruling the World for her own tiger cub? A good Tiger Mom dedicates her adult life to beating her dedication into her children…but Amy Chua COMPLETELY overlooks the true meaning of parenting success.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Introducing: Panda Mom. </span> <span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Let me give you an example: Me.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia";"><br /><br />Like many other of my Panda Mom peers, I’ve put on a few older-mom pounds (DAMN you menopause!). Listen ladies, it makes us all the more adorable; no one likes a skinny panda. Plus, I’m at my very best perfecting creative laziness…feet up on my Baker lounger, directing life, eating unhealthy snack foods. I’m sure you can draw the blissful panda picture, but you may be wondering how my personal panda savoir-faire relates to parenting...</span> <span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Creative laziness</span><span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia";"> forces Panda Moms to teach their panda cubs how to </span><span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia";">Make Mama Happy</span><span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia";">. For the cubs, making-mama-happy means getting grades just good enough so that Mama Panda doesn’t have to make the effort to hire a tutor, or attend dark meetings with teachers and school counselors. It means that homework and projects get done quickly and simply, so Mama Panda doesn’t have to come unglued reminding her cubs about due dates - or go broke hiring an electrical engineer to wire the Michigan Lighthouse for the 5th grade science expo.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia";"><br /><br />Panda Moms teach their cubs how to make a lunch, dust a room and throw in a load of clothes at an early age. These accomplishments create an entrepreneurial spirit in a cub, an “I can DO that!” attitude that is cosseted and encouraged through…well, servitude. Better living through live-in help, I always say! My Panda Mom job is to guide my children toward their full potential… without losing my mind, scarring future generations or cleaning the cat box (cub job).</span> <span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />“Don’t Make My Life Hard”</span><span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia";"> is the number one Panda Mom Mantra. Children who drink, do drugs, run with a bad crowd and forget their violin on orchestra day make my life hard. My three cubs know this, and they mostly abide by panda parenting tenets. On the days they don’t? I go to Wolong in my head, and slowly waddle across a verdant, Chinese mountainside. I search for inner fortitude, for grace from the Ancients and for a tasty bite of deep-fried bamboo shoot. This usually brings me back to my senses, and reminds me of the secret, defining equation of true panda parenting victory:</span> <span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;">Happy Mom + Happy Cubs = </span><span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Success</span><span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;">!</span></div>
<span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia";">Why do the Big Cats have to make it sooo difficult?<br /><br />By Jean MacLeod<br /><b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/AdoptionToolbox/" target="_blank">JOIN ME on FACEBOOK!</a></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Copyright 2011, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved</span></span><br />
<span style="color: rgb(0 , 0 , 0); font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-17290410404171136292010-12-21T22:00:00.000-05:002010-12-21T23:22:14.889-05:00Holiday REPLAY<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2CH-BzfScEfb_zmTRtFVf4zKNGD502WI8W8m2_6b3cn3gZSeTfr9EJs-XnjcmAy_ksWqOTmmXngR8V6rX7SPTPgU0JheylfVnL55Bq8f1eJlB2OmyaAnhBDEC5rbKT6iULIWDEHlOW1R/s1600/ist2_1123233_charlie_brown_style_christmas_tree.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2CH-BzfScEfb_zmTRtFVf4zKNGD502WI8W8m2_6b3cn3gZSeTfr9EJs-XnjcmAy_ksWqOTmmXngR8V6rX7SPTPgU0JheylfVnL55Bq8f1eJlB2OmyaAnhBDEC5rbKT6iULIWDEHlOW1R/s320/ist2_1123233_charlie_brown_style_christmas_tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553351064423133138" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6CcCrd7osG1h2J4CCaLy3uVxqIzuikczK0PX2T27BQ9X24q5qNdbCW8XpKOrR7WTH_KdTIwe_9XljR8V6MNL9Qr2i3AD35x_JElJkOLY8gKdw09tLNM2OQniM2s3q0bQr9jNUtS3LgkJr/s1600/ist2_1123233_charlie_brown_style_christmas_tree.jpg"><br /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I meant to write it all down.</span></span><br />All of those witty, profound things kids say? I was supposed to capture my children's most brilliant declarations in a journal. I didn't. Slammed by life, I guess! I'll go for "parenting has made me a better person" instead, meaning I vaguely reference "life experience" whenever scrapbooking or journaling or mommy diaries ever come up. Which is maybe why I love this semi-ancient blog post from <span style="font-weight: bold;">2004</span>. I've forgiven myself for neglecting to <span style="font-style: italic;">write it all down </span>... but it feels so good to read and remember.</span> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />A WISH NOTE HOLIDAY</span></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />Molly cooked us a wonderful pancake breakfast this morning, to celebrate the first day of Christmas vacation. The conversation turned to gift-giving (and getting!) and card-sending, and what needed to be accomplished this week.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"I need to send Aunt Jennifer a thank you note for the purse she gave me," Molly said.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"I've already sent her a thank you for my gift," Hanna announced. All eyes turned to the 5 year old. "I sent her a Wish Note," she added.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"What exactly is a Wish Note?" I asked, with eyebrows raised.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"It's when you stand very still and send a person a Thank You in your head," Hanna answered.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">It was a nice try, performed with bravado, and I congratulated Hanna on her creativity.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />Wish Notes. A great concept! I am wish-noting you a very Happy Holiday as I type, along with grander wishes for children in need of families, and an end to their deprivation and neglect. I believe in the power of a good wish note, and the good energy of people who send them. If I don't see you over the holidays, I am sending you a *hug*-- did you feel it?? I wished it. And I'm seriously concentrating on wishing you a truly wonderful new year...</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" >merry merry</span><span style="font-size:130%;">,</span></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br />Jean</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;" href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Copyright 2004-2010, MacLeod. All Rights Reserved.</span></span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-61294353993819757972010-11-28T14:42:00.000-05:002011-01-01T13:24:04.784-05:00Adoption & College PREP Parenting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6oOyjp7IDYabzlk8c_YIyR9Th9YRs5P0qgwSbmEmiJpArr1J8oMLp6WAe3GirAuH_wRFaf66L8WJxyaxgsn0U2S10apRgT0p-OW_Y6IqNcx47jtwt3208Ixlz1HpTfPohQaQwq1YkdSP/s1600/june+24+101.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6oOyjp7IDYabzlk8c_YIyR9Th9YRs5P0qgwSbmEmiJpArr1J8oMLp6WAe3GirAuH_wRFaf66L8WJxyaxgsn0U2S10apRgT0p-OW_Y6IqNcx47jtwt3208Ixlz1HpTfPohQaQwq1YkdSP/s320/june+24+101.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544694785443844146" border="0" /></a><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0pt 5.4pt 0pt 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0pt; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:14pt;color:black;" >Beyond the ACT, SAT and Financial Aid…</span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;color:black;" >My 15 year old daughter from China attends a ferociously academic, heavily Asian, Midwestern public high school. Lily and her friends joke about the school’s secret GPA weapon (Asian Parents), but they accept Advanced Placement Classes, Symphony Orchestra and Extracurricular Leadership Opportunities as a matter of course. Lily’s friends are being groomed for Big League universities; her friends’ parents hail from China, Korea, India, Japan and Lebanon, and have firmly prepared their children for academic success on either of our coasts. </span><span style="font-family:Arial;"><br /><br /><span style="color:black;">For Lily, high school has been an intriguing peek into what life would be like with a “real” Asian family. She’s grateful for my low-pressure, Caucasian mom approach (<i style="">“Have fun at school today, hon!”</i>), but she also holds herself to the pervasive academic expectations of her teachers, and especially, of her Asian cohorts. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:black;">This works for me! I rarely need to harp at my daughter to do her homework, or practice the viola, or volunteer for NHS--the stuff kids typically do in order to frontload a college admissions application. The academics and extras are just part of Lily’s social life, thanks to the high school’s high-achieving Asian milieu. I can parentally coast, expecting that my kid’s college prep grades and list of accomplishments will potentially channel her directly into a name brand university Out East, or even more wow-ing--Out West! </span><br /><br /><b><span style="color:black;">EXCEPT. </span></b><br /><br /><span style="color:black;">I would fail College Prep Parenting if I were to send this child off to school without clueing her into the true secret of her future collegiate success--and the secret has nothing to do with accomplishments or study habits. My parental coasting ends the minute we shine a light on adoption, and examine the effect my child’s past has on her reactions to minor changes and major transitions. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:black;">Since preschool, beginnings, endings and separations have triggered overwhelming feelings of loss for my daughter.<span style=""> </span><span style="">An adopted child has experienced loss and understands the terror of vulnerability; she knows that change isn’t necessarily a positive event, and deeply fears that it could mean losing parents, friends and home. <i>It has happened before.</i></span></span></span><i><span style=";font-family:Arial;color:black;" ><br /></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;color:black;" >A traumatic babyhood may have permanently marked my daughter’s response to change--but recognizing and acknowledging the reasons <i>behind</i> the triggers also equipped Lily with the tools to fight back. <span style=""> </span>Openly talking about adoption loss and grief when Lily was young gave her the basis to create coping mechanisms to counteract the effects of change, separation and new situations. Together, we created </span><b><span style="font-family:Arial;">middle steps</span></b><span style=";font-family:Arial;color:black;" > that allowed Lily to ease into new activities and adventures. These three steps are easily personalized for use with families planning for college.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Arial;color:black;" > <span style="font-weight: bold;">[</span><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=241280054498&notes_tab=app_2347471856#%21/note.php?note_id=175257882507885">CLICK HERE for 3 College Middle Step DETAILS</a><span style="font-weight: bold;">]</span></span></p><span style=";font-family:Arial;color:black;" ></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;color:black;" ></span> <span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12pt;color:black;" >Lily parlayed the <i style="">talk, practice, support</i> middle step coping tools throughout elementary, middle and high school, and is rarely ambushed in the comfort zones she has created at home, with friends and at school. <span style=""> </span>However, going to college hundreds or thousands of miles away from home means an 18 year old is suddenly <i>without</i> familiar comfort zones--and without dependable, daily family support. Heaping change on an unsuspecting college freshman can make for a bumpy first semester. Heaping change (loss!) on an unsuspecting freshman-adoptee can propel a student into a tailspin, or even back to the safety zone of home. </span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12pt;" ><br /><br /><span style="color:black;">The transitional rituals built into the senior year of high school are in place for a reason. Team banquets, class trips, scholarship ceremonies, honors convocation, graduation and graduation parties are formal middle steps that help both kids and parents process the looming life changes in a socially supportive, systemic manner. However, adoptees may need an extra layer of preparation in order to counter the cultural “growing up and leaving home for good” mentality built around going off to college. </span><br /><br />Emotionally p<span style="color:black;">reparing our adopted children to make a positive move to school is just as important as mentally prepping for the ACT or SAT. We need to help our soon-to-be college kids create their own middle steps when necessary. We need to teach them how to create new support systems and healthy ways to reach out and connect, both to others and to us. We especially need to let our kids know that we acknowledge their extra challenges with separation--that we have faith in their coping abilities, and that we will continue to be truly available whenever, or wherever, they need us.</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ><br /><br />By Jean MacLeod<br /><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Copyright 2010, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">NOTE:</span> I figured out how to g-text my 20 year old's cell phone from my computer a couple of years ago -- she took the text and called me a google stalker! (I think this means I'm doing my job? Ahh, techno parents!). <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.theonion.com/video/facebook-twitter-revolutionizing-how-parents-stalk,14364/">CLICK HERE for stalker parent parody</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span> <div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" ><br /></span></span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-1464035511890214632010-05-09T01:27:00.000-04:002010-05-09T01:53:00.035-04:00for WARRIOR MOMS on Mother's Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjja75P-Gg1OPoEkmFpF57sbwQIoddnXw1_C2aV_sTcyBZSspJOQv-Zg1JrFPjUoxjvy9bKKO4wZKD4Nv3klRzLnGVJilpCRuR0nVN8H3NsI69cO0CApXUDKUvM59KBITPaqrPec59vbRXM/s1600/loosesh0gh3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjja75P-Gg1OPoEkmFpF57sbwQIoddnXw1_C2aV_sTcyBZSspJOQv-Zg1JrFPjUoxjvy9bKKO4wZKD4Nv3klRzLnGVJilpCRuR0nVN8H3NsI69cO0CApXUDKUvM59KBITPaqrPec59vbRXM/s320/loosesh0gh3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469143390735221394" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">I</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> didn't sign up to be a Warrior Mom.</span></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >It was awarded to me by default: I showed up to mother a baby.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >In the early days of our adoption,</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I clanked around in oversize Armor that hung heavy and slow.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >It took me awhile to realize that it had been designed for me to grow into...</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I'd been outfitted as a Warrior Mom</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >but didn't understand what I was fighting.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >It was with fear and steel</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >that I dealt with awful knowledge:</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I was fighting for the love and affection</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >of a baby who no longer trusted.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Making a child's world right</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >is all-consuming and never-ending.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I figured out why I wore Armor: it held me up at the end of the day.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >So many invisible dragons to slay!</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I battled for my baby</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >and I battled to be her mother.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I took rejection -- arrows glancing off metal-- and came back for more.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I demanded a place in the life of my daughter</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >and I learned to share her with her past.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I became a Warrior Mom</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >and ditched the Armor, but kept the shield.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Not for me, but to protect the child that became mine</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >through sweat and tears and years of no sleep!</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Who knew this Mom could tilt at windmills</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >angry feelings and powerful ghosts?</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >I don't cook, can't sew, won't craft</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >but I learned I could fight</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >and I don’t give up.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Sometimes it takes a Warrior Mom</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >to claim a child who has gone past love.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Untapped, under-appreciated,</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >a Mother's Will is Mighty.</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >It can make love spring from metal</span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >And change Armor to open arms.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">~~~</span></span><br />by Jean MacLeod<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Copyright 2004, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved</span><br /><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a></span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-32988305630823502182010-04-17T23:04:00.000-04:002010-04-17T23:29:37.408-04:00Teaching a Baby to Love You is a Lonely Business<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9Bi1gI8z4_9381izPehn8WJX9PwbkOQIdhS8VdftxEKV3ZMX835f-7_tvT9PB8oBJNmAxFcc07eaPzqm89sAP8Yltmgi-HU4hgICMECblBJ_VrwkLaAfHsptirnUF66EiZLmlzHwTq1U/s1600/healing-hands-500.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9Bi1gI8z4_9381izPehn8WJX9PwbkOQIdhS8VdftxEKV3ZMX835f-7_tvT9PB8oBJNmAxFcc07eaPzqm89sAP8Yltmgi-HU4hgICMECblBJ_VrwkLaAfHsptirnUF66EiZLmlzHwTq1U/s320/healing-hands-500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461314290016866098" border="0" /></a><br />My second daughter, adopted as a baby from China, was a challenge to parent. She came to me with an awareness of her loss, memories of a woman she loved, a sensitive nature and an intense personality. My first three years with this beautiful and intelligent child drained me emotionally and physically. I learned what I had to do in order to help her with her adoption issues, and re-wiring my life, I did what was needed. I don't remember the details...but I remember being tired! And scared and anxious and resigned. We made progress together, but teaching a baby to love you is a lonely business.<br /><br />My daughter grew to feel safe and secure in tiny little steps. I rejoiced in the smallest of things: her first unsolicited kiss at 15 months old almost stopped my heart! I spent most of my day, every day (and a lot of my nights) meeting her needs and teaching her to trust; it's hard to comprehend the immense amount of energy that can go into adoption-parenting, unless you're familiar with the bittersweet experience of bringing a child back from the edge.<br /><br />I had a lot to learn about support systems, both for my child and for myself, and if I had to do it again I would be as proactive in finding assistance for myself as I was about finding resources for my daughter. I would help my family and friends understand the work I was doing with my child, and I would ask for their emotional support. I would let them know exactly what I was dealing with, and how important it was for them to put their arms around me and my baby, literally and figuratively. Adopting a child opened a whole new world for me, but I think I was too blurry-eyed to realize that my friends and family weren't sure of how to offer to help, or even what I was trying to accomplish. What had become second nature to me in doing attachment-work with my daughter probably made me look like a rigid and over-protective parent to an outsider, and probably made me appear unapproachable.<br /><br />I wanted a coach, a mentor, a friend who understood--I needed the village that was supposed to help me raise my child! I didn't get the whole village, but I did find women who reached out to me, who extended sisterhood and who told me I was doing something valuable by mothering. They noticed. I held on to their words of honesty and support, and was enormously touched whenever another mom mentioned how well my little girl was doing. Simple words had a powerful impact:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"You are a great mom,"</span> my own mother told me one day, after watching me slog through months of attachment-parenting.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"You are a strong woman,"</span> an adoption therapist told me, which gave me the mantra to get through my week.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"We are so thrilled for her!"</span> a group of moms told me with excitement when my toddler was finally able to sit happily on the play parachute at Gymboree. It was a big day when she decided to go for a gentle circle ride with the other babies, instead of clinging to me in fear. The moms' sincere celebration of my baby's big step forward surprised me; that they had noticed what my daughter was working to overcome, and had shared their appreciation of her accomplishment, meant the world to me.<br /><br />More than time alone or bubble baths or even chocolate, the words and company of other mothers re-energized me to be the kind of parent I wanted to be. Moms who understood what I was trying to achieve, who acknowledged and validated my time with my daughter, were my cheerleaders. They gave me the words to go forward and the words that re-filled my inner reserve. I was, and continue to be, extraordinarily grateful for the women in my life who spoke up and reached out to me, who helped keep my attitude healthy and happy, and Who Noticed when I needed it most.<br /><br />There is invisible strength in Motherhood, and <span style="font-style: italic;">we need to watch out for one another</span>. Giving a struggling mom a compliment, noticing the incremental progress of her child, or offering your encouragement (or shoulder to cry on) are not-so-random acts of kindness that fuel the thankless job of parenting. Showing up with a flat of flowers and planting them, dropping off a DVD and a bag of chips and dip, or simply sending an admiring email, are motherly gestures we can do for tired moms to help void the feelings of isolation that parenting challenging children can engender. We can <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> this for each other; we can extend a hand, we can connect, we can all notice a mom who is in need of the essential, human magic of other mothers.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Jean</span><br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Artwork: <span style="font-style: italic;">Healing Hands</span> by Silvia Hartmann<br /><br />Copyright 2005 MacLeod, All Rights Reserved<br />Originally published as <span style="font-style: italic;">Women Who Notice: Speaking Up & Reaching Out</span>; excerpted from <span style="font-style: italic;">Adoption-Parenting: Creating a Toolbox, Building Connections</span> (2006 EMK Press)</span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-84157845746206217772010-04-01T21:36:00.000-04:002010-04-02T09:54:10.624-04:00‘SWM, 64, Looking for Asian Woman’<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55F3MlXOCafdgkgfKmQo5CSse-Pqd6SZ5WFf7WiJLhZDeLG_MSJ8v0l5xtJcz3hnBZLOA_5ZGEnhKqncPO_1cAbxaX-gQ0iH5YFDSMgFDuKrHURcIVQ1fz3OBrJ-JSlvxPI3nNKudjZEo/s1600/suzie-wong-.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55F3MlXOCafdgkgfKmQo5CSse-Pqd6SZ5WFf7WiJLhZDeLG_MSJ8v0l5xtJcz3hnBZLOA_5ZGEnhKqncPO_1cAbxaX-gQ0iH5YFDSMgFDuKrHURcIVQ1fz3OBrJ-JSlvxPI3nNKudjZEo/s320/suzie-wong-.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455353096927783842" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" ></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >How do I describe the spasm of parental pain, anger and fear induced by </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >Date*Line’s Ad of the Week</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >? Like it’s not enough that I have to worry about prepping my Chinese American high-schooler for student shootings, abductions while jogging, and 16 year old bad boys--now I need to figure out how to talk to her about old white guys looking for fantasy China Doll sex?</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Or Geisha sex, or Dragon Lady sex, or Miss Saigon sex? Aaaargh! Yes, I was really happy to add ‘perverts’ to the list of difficult topics I’ve been attempting to address with my Asian daughters:</span> <ul style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: arial;"><li>Overt Racism. The ugly, ignorant, sometimes life or death encounters with fearful, power-hungry, bullying individuals, groups or institutions</li><li>Invisible Racism. Masquerades as ‘Niceness’ and Positive Stereotyping. Also may be used to diminish, or control.</li><li>Asiaphiles with <a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" href="http://www.ocweekly.com/2006-11-02/news/yellow-fever/1">Yellow Fever</a>. Men looking for de-humanizing Asian stereotype for sexual gratification. No real relationship required.<br /></li></ul> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br />But to complicate matters, tough topics are rarely all black or white…or yellow. How do I explain to my kids that the ‘nice’ white guy who only dates Asian girls and claims he is without a bigoted bone in his body, is likely objectifying a race and projecting his own sexual fetish?</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Yeah, I’ll bring that up right after my girls and I discuss who’s old enough for a cell-phone and why Taylor Swift is more talented than Miley Cyrus…</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Because </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >I don’t want to go there</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >. How do I explain what I can’t wrap my own mind around? Intellectually, I understand how our history and foreign policy have played into the </span><a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;" href="http://www.asiasociety.org/arts-culture/literature/sheridan-prasso-seeing-past-stereotypes">Asian Mystique</a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >, and how </span><a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;" href="http://www.offscreen.com/biblio/pages/essays/yellow_fever/">Hollywood</a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" > and The Media have continued to fan the ‘exotic’ yellow flames.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Emotionally, it is a different thing to sit across the table from a 14 year old and try to make dating sense out of Asian wars fought and lost, out of dominance, power and control, and out of the alien fetishist effect this world arena has had on <span style="font-style: italic;">some</span> white males (with their accompanying de-personalized dream of Asian females).</span> <span style="font-family:arial;">The men I have met over the last 14 years as an active member of <span style="font-style: italic;">Families with Children from China</span> are truly the best dads I have ever known. But we don't talk about this--this--niche porn based on race and sick fairy-tales. It is scary and disturbing, especially when applied to the international children we love and protect.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br />Sheridan Prasso, author of <span style="font-style: italic;">the book, The Asian Mystique</span>, writes:</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />“There is a patronizing, missionary aspect to America’s foreign policy toward Asia, just as there is an aspect of “saving” the poor Asian girl (prostitute, war victim) from economic circumstances, life of prostitution, or “oppressive” cultural practices which we see in so many of our fictional stories about Asia – and played out in real life…” </span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />Prostitute? War victim? When will ‘Chinese orphan’ become the hot, new, fantasy sexual experience for Asiaphiles?</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />I don’t want to go </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >there</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >, either…but I’m the parent and I read somewhere that hiding under the bed is not allowed. I adhere to 'best parenting practices' for supporting my daughters’ Transracial Adoptee </span><a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: arial;" href="http://www.adoptioninstitute.org/research/2009_11_culture_camp.php">identity formation</a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >, and I realize how important it is for my daughters to learn from the strength and collective primary experience of other Asian women.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />But, still, I’m the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Mom</span>. What I’ve discovered as an adoptive parent is that there is NO EASY WAY through a conversation with my children on adoption, racism or sex. The adoption topic was tough when my teen was in preschool; however, believe me, Yellow Fever trumps all...</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />I may feel socially awkward bringing up painfully personal subjects with my tween and teen, but I’ve learned my occasional gracelessness simply doesn’t matter. What matters deeply and profoundly is…</span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >honesty</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >. Truthfulness is our adoption-parenting formula for success! With it, we can wade through embarrassing conversations, empower our teens, and hex the Date*liners looking for ‘yellow sex’ with our Asian daughters. It is also really good to know that speaking honestly precludes making a complete idiot of yourself (I fall back on this parenting truism a lot).<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >Movies, particularly older films, offer up marvelous conversation starters on racial stereotyping and discrimination in general. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Catch <span style="font-style: italic;">Flower Drum Song, The Good Earth, Auntie Mame, Breakfast at Tiffany's</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">The World of Suzie Wong</span> on classic movie channels (or Netflix), and talk about the impact of the stereotypical characters, or the situational racism, or what has changed...and what hasn't.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" > Sometimes communication with our kids is a process, accomplished in steps; sometimes we just need to find the words to use; sometimes we need help in recognizing the other’s truth.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br />So--</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />‘</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >SWM, 64</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >, Looking for Asian Woman’: First, you get deal with me, </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >AWP</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" > [Angry White Parent]. I have a few things I’d like to </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >honestly</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" > discuss…</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Jean</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >www.AdoptionToolbox.com</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><br />This post is part of my </span><a style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;" href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/services.html">Transracial Parenting Savvy!</a><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;"> </span>series<br />with Psychologist Doris Landry</span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-48162413619338575322010-02-11T02:35:00.000-05:002014-02-03T11:11:01.336-05:00REACHING BEYOND BIRTH CULTURE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAfoUCOjdZcmhKv8lO3rGzTF1VtPp8oVguvOPsySXPQymw1AdjC3Wk6Mj-QKmXpGvyqWhJk61y-KluXnlJHFgNnWIwPFm_ECWAa-7kSWr3QjC5ZJXkqPrWexcCMx5Ky1K1_YbGZDs1MD4/s1600-h/ny+tiger.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAfoUCOjdZcmhKv8lO3rGzTF1VtPp8oVguvOPsySXPQymw1AdjC3Wk6Mj-QKmXpGvyqWhJk61y-KluXnlJHFgNnWIwPFm_ECWAa-7kSWr3QjC5ZJXkqPrWexcCMx5Ky1K1_YbGZDs1MD4/s320/ny+tiger.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436886692962181202" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 117px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 114px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">My daughters, when they were younger, were willing participants in Families with Children from China events.</span> We looked forward to celebrating their Chinese birth culture with FCC friends, and eagerly attended the fun, child-friendly festivities planned by FCC parents. For Chinese New Year my daughters dressed in colorful silk Qi Pao dresses and pearl necklaces purchased in Guangzhou. I wore a matching silk blouse (cheongsam dresses simply refused to go past my obviously western-sized hips) and my own set of pearls. We had a wonderful time at our FCC parties, making Chinese lantern crafts, learning a little Mandarin, and eating Chinese food.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Did attending an adoption support group that emphasized Chinese birth culture make my family culturally competent?</span> Of course not! But through FCC, my daughters met other adopted children with similar life circumstances, and I became friends with other adoptive parents. My children and I slowly developed a support system within our FCC group. The girls relished the comfort of being the same as the other kid attendees: no one questioned their family connection, origin or Asian-ness. I enjoyed (needed…required!) the ongoing parent-to-parent rapport. Trans-racial, international adoption-parenting can be a deeply broadening or a darkly isolating experience. FCC-type organizations offer adopted children and their adoptive parents an important feeling of belonging, and a powerful camaraderie based on life experience and shared insight. Sometimes dismissed as ‘culture-lite’, these groups are invaluable in helping families create community-- and it is the invisible culture of *adoption* that support groups validate, celebrate and strengthen. Adoption IS part of our children’s birth culture…<br />
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My daughters, now 17, 12 and 8, are reaching past early childhood FCC parties and playgroups, and exploring what growing up Asian really means within our family and our community. My oldest daughter was born to me, and it has been interesting to see the effect her China-born sisters have had over her choice of high school friends, and on her college decision. She has a world-view, and an easy lifetime acceptance of cultural and racial diversity.<br />
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Her two younger sisters are moving toward creating their own diverse, cultural comfort zone among their seventh grade and third grade peers. Both girls joined a Chinese folk-dance troupe last year at my urging, and I was secretly amazed at how little I had to push to get them to participate! It wasn’t really about the dance…I think my 12 year old especially enjoyed working with the instructor (a beautiful Chinese woman from Beijing), and she liked the novel experience of being surrounded by non-adoptive Asian-American families. She observed the Chinese family interactions and the teacher’s traditional Chinese mode of instruction, and we talked about what it might have been like for my daughter to grow up with her first family in mainland China.<br />
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My 12 year old also attended the Korean American Adoptee Adoptive Family Network (KAAN) conference with me last summer in Boston, where she had the opportunity to listen and talk to Korean and Chinese young adult adoptees. These intelligent, accomplished young women made an impact on my middle-schooler—more than I realized at the time. My daughter’s occasional comments about the conference are a reminder to me that my Asian-American girls need mentors and role-models outside myself…that part two of my job as a trans-racial adoptive parent involves taking the initiative and reaching out to friendships among the Asian, Middle-Eastern and African-American families in my own community. Race IS part of our children’s birth culture…<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">I’ve discovered that celebrating our children’s birth culture isn’t just about immersion into another country’s past and present.</span> It is relational, and based on the evolving needs of our children it can mean reaching out to other adoptees, mentors, heritage camp counselors, instructors and new friends. Celebrating our children’s birth culture encompasses difficult day-to-day discussions on race, and the acknowledgment of the losses and loving benefits inherent in becoming an adoptive family. And at the heart of it all, is the family foundation and emotional network that we parents strive to provide.<br />
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In China, the New Year’s celebration focuses on relatives, and respect is paid to the spirits of a family’s ancestors:<br />
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“<span style="font-style: italic;">The presence of the ancestors is acknowledged on New Year's Eve with a dinner arranged for them at the family banquet table. The spirits of the ancestors, together with the living, celebrate the onset of the New Year as one great community. The communal feast called "surrounding the stove" or weilu. It symbolizes family unity and honors the past and present generations</span>.” (University of Victoria, BC, Canada)<br />
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My daughters have grown out of their silk Qi Pao dresses, and are growing into multifaceted tweens and teens. But at Chinese New Year I still celebrate our “family unity” and the fact that these three children are in my life. I thank the mixed hotpot of Chinese and Scandinavian ancestral spirits that somehow, with deep benevolence and wicked humor, reached out beyond race and place, beyond all of our different birth cultures, and brought my children and me together…<br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">Gong Xi Fa Cai! Xin Nian Kuai Le!<br />Happy New Year!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Jean</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b>Join Us</b>: <b><a href="http://www.facebook.com/AdoptionToolbox" target="_blank">Adoption Toolbox is on Facebook</a>! </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.adoptiontoolbox.com/" style="font-weight: bold;">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Copyright 2012, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-style: italic;">Reaching Beyond Birth Culture </span>was originally published in <span style="font-weight: bold;">2007</span> by Children's Hope Int'l</div>
Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-8729490018797618842010-01-15T08:32:00.000-05:002010-01-15T08:46:04.041-05:00"Before You Were Asian"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWw4aZGf3AHKusKAY9zTxuwu4HzEh6rWmBC4FeVQk-ukd5wPq4BnEyLoz3o3PQBQMbezx1fJcrAsRAKPDUhryais9ETy1nZv-AFnDIFD4XgnT_AUyk3A1q5ASKMFKO8CmyNCAdbZ97Pxj/s1600-h/goddessInBloom.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 107px; height: 98px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWw4aZGf3AHKusKAY9zTxuwu4HzEh6rWmBC4FeVQk-ukd5wPq4BnEyLoz3o3PQBQMbezx1fJcrAsRAKPDUhryais9ETy1nZv-AFnDIFD4XgnT_AUyk3A1q5ASKMFKO8CmyNCAdbZ97Pxj/s320/goddessInBloom.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426962050625615442" border="0" /></a><br />“What’s that thing on the wall called?” my 14 year old from China asked, pointing at a heavily embroidered panel of antique ceremonial cloth hanging in our living room.<br /><br />“It’s a Kalaga,” I answered. “It’s from Thailand”<br /><br />“It’s not Chinese?” Lily said in mild surprise.<br /><br />“Nope. Not Chinese,” I responded, looking around our living room. “And neither is the Thai temple fragment, or the Japanese origami figures, or the bowl I found in Seoul.”<br /><br />Some of the items had been collected during my years as an international flight attendant; some, like the Kalaga, were acquired during young adulthood. Purchased right out of college, the Kalaga had been bizarrely expensive and unwieldy to hang; I wonder now what had stirred my need for its presence and rich tradition.<br /><br />“So”, said Lily, looking around the room at our artifacts, as if seeing them for the first time. “You bought all of this stuff…before you were Asian?”<br /><br />I nodded, catching her eye and pondering her perspective.<br /><br />“Yes. Before I was Asian. Before you and your sister got here.”<br /><br />Suddenly, I was aware that my own, familiar perspective was out-of-synch with my daughter’s world-experience. Clearly, Lily understood the impact she and her younger sister had had on my life-path…but I , just as clearly, was a little out of touch with the POV of an edgy Asian girl growing up fast with a white bread mom.<br /><br />We gazed at each other in a moment of clarity and mutual recognition. Our assumptions had met, and we silently acknowledged the curious fact that both of us had led separate lives on separate continents before becoming a family. Like every parent, I occasionally wonder what my life would be like today if I hadn’t discovered its meaning in my children. Now, my teenager has begun to connect me, our disparate pasts, what brought us together and the effects on us all. We were teen-talking adoption without ‘going there’, and I was given a glimpse into the broadening perspective of a daughter connecting her own dots. Lily wasn’t being sarcastic. She acknowledged our differences and reaffirmed our pact with her pointed phrase, and I understood what she meant. <span style="font-style: italic;">Before both of our lives intersected, before we took on this international experiment, before we knew how much we could love, before we were brave enough to try, before…I was Asian.<br /><br /></span><span>Jean</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</span></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-14227458452455733452010-01-10T20:02:00.000-05:002010-01-11T00:14:11.641-05:00The ADOPTION TOOLBOX Perfect Puzzle Give-Away<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnjDjdZ1MMcJLq_usfmUQyUFYKYi5pJn6hQJKG0CtzyWFbgJt9eot7cXLDfcKjS4nyJVv_EMxwY8aEm6vSG6a05_kyPvX29Aa1YNX5RrawoUN_PDbFqG551jrWQDLpst-XJlwnDmyEyVU/s1600-h/bc.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 136px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnjDjdZ1MMcJLq_usfmUQyUFYKYi5pJn6hQJKG0CtzyWFbgJt9eot7cXLDfcKjS4nyJVv_EMxwY8aEm6vSG6a05_kyPvX29Aa1YNX5RrawoUN_PDbFqG551jrWQDLpst-XJlwnDmyEyVU/s200/bc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425282787279321026" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbqjF-7VVVnYIg3Gae3K5y4ChyphenhyphenpU02DZMsLC0PEly6KYXs26MbeoehnAdAowzYiX9ltcHRwuO-ULmIf6xdOmG4kqx3Js96gebnp6Y-D_-t61ggK3ZInOTp0Fy3wSc4jTvqp09hgITwmg_/s1600-h/POMcover923.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbqjF-7VVVnYIg3Gae3K5y4ChyphenhyphenpU02DZMsLC0PEly6KYXs26MbeoehnAdAowzYiX9ltcHRwuO-ULmIf6xdOmG4kqx3Js96gebnp6Y-D_-t61ggK3ZInOTp0Fy3wSc4jTvqp09hgITwmg_/s200/POMcover923.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425282633559874146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />A Perfect Puzzle Give-Away...</span><br />A book for adopted tweens, plus a NEW book for adopted teens--both addressing honest emotion and the need to find a fit. Both books are FREE to one lucky person...contest begins today and runs through Jan. 30th. Winner will be announced on JANUARY 31st!<br /><br /><b>Simple Give-Away Rules</b><br />1) Sign up to follow Jean MacLeod's Adoption Toolbox <span style="font-weight: bold;">BLOG</span> at<br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">http://adoptiontoolbox.<wbr>blogspot.com/</a><br /><br />and / or<br /><br />2) Join Jean MacLeod's new Adoption Toolbox <span style="font-weight: bold;">FACEBOOK</span> page by clicking on the <span style="font-weight: bold;">FACEBOOK</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Badge</span> at: <a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">http://adoptiontoolbox.<wbr>blogspot.com/</a> (on the right).<br />***Be sure to click the green 'Sign Up" box once <span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">on Facebook</span><br /><br />--If you join BOTH the blog and the Facebook page, you will have TWO chances to win the books (shipping is free).<br />--Current blog followers WILL be automatically included in the drawing, but are encouraged to join the new Adoption Toolbox Facebook page to improve give-away chances.<br /><b><br /></b>The Books:<b><br /><br />AT HOME IN THIS WORLD</b> (by Jean MacLeod) is "the honest, lyrical reflection of a pre-adolescent girl on what she knows of her adoption from China, and the strength she gains from her acceptance of her bittersweet experience. The book addresses the underlying feelings and emotions that color the world of the international adoptee; it also enables pre-teen readers to put their early lives into perspective, while emphasizing the supportive love that encircles them within their own families":<br /><i>"I am nine years old and someone a lot like you. Part of my life has been like a puzzle needing pieces, but I am understanding more about myself and my life everyday. This is my story..."</i><br /><b><br /></b><b>PIECES OF ME, WHO DO I WANT TO BE? </b>(edited by Robert L. Ballard) is a NEW collection of "stories, poems, art, music, quotes, activities and provocative questions for the young adopted person who wants to figure out his or her story. It is a series of experiences, expressions, feelings, hurts, hopes, dreams, and struggles from a wide range of individuals. Some will make you laugh, some will make you cry, some will make you happy, some will make you feel less alone, some will offer advice, and some will just share. Organized around the idea of putting a puzzle together, there are five major sections, all offering hope, encouragement and empowerment":<br /><p>1. Gathering the Pieces<br />2. Stolen Pieces<br />3. Fitting the Pieces<br />4. Sharing the Pieces<br />5. Where do These Pieces Go?<br /></p><p>So...</p><span style="font-weight: bold;">What's NOT puzzling?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Free books for your kids, online connection and great parent-to-parent resources</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">...perfect!</span><br /><br />Jean MacLeod<br /><a href="http://www.adoptiontoolbox.com/" target="_blank">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />CLICK ON</span><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.blogspot.com/2009/11/iwrite-tweens-teens-write-about-life.html"><span><b><i><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="line-height: 19px;font-size:16px;" ><br /></span></span></i></b></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">iWrite: Tween and Teens Write about Life and Adoption</span></a><br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.blogspot.com/2009/08/walk-in-jurassic-park.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A Walk in JURASSIC PARK</span></a><br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.blogspot.com/2009/07/family-fun.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Middle Aged Moms & Family Fun</span></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><span><b><i><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="line-height: 19px;font-size:16px;" ><br /></span></span></i></b></span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-34127796717345333902009-12-17T20:43:00.001-05:002009-12-17T21:06:48.367-05:00A WISH NOTE HOLIDAY!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Al9djEdWc06g9ZJw3cYqE4aPq08ObPecPhvZuqrdDkrLn_7ngS0M_m47HaSgz4jhSTESCfJ_qEDZ4lCyarw3OapwGoDvyXyuS43ky4MG-LB-qaCX7vMP2nYbimt3VPcfkzVejiMxjVVR/s1600-h/snowflakes1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Al9djEdWc06g9ZJw3cYqE4aPq08ObPecPhvZuqrdDkrLn_7ngS0M_m47HaSgz4jhSTESCfJ_qEDZ4lCyarw3OapwGoDvyXyuS43ky4MG-LB-qaCX7vMP2nYbimt3VPcfkzVejiMxjVVR/s200/snowflakes1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416386036160895986" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A favorite family replay from 2004...</span><br /><br />Molly cooked us a wonderful pancake breakfast this morning, to celebrate the first day of Christmas vacation. The conversation turned to gift-giving (and getting!) and card-sending, and what needed to be accomplished this week.<br />"I need to send Aunt Jennifer a Thank You note for the purse she gave me" Molly said.<br /><br />"I've already sent her a Thank You for my gift" Hanna said. All eyes turned to the 5 year old. "I sent her a <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">Wish Note</span>."<br /><br />"What exactly is a Wish Note?" I asked, with eyebrows raised.<br />"It's when you stand very still and send a person a Thank You in your head" Hanna answered. It was a nice try, performed with chutzpah, and I congratulated Hanna on her creativity.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">Wish Notes</span>. </span>A great concept! I am wish-noting you a very Happy Holiday as I type, along with grander wishes for children in need of families, and an end to their deprivation and neglect. I believe in the power of a good wish note, and the good energy of people who send them. If I don't see you over the holidays, I am sending you a *hug*-- did you feel it?? I wished it. And I'm seriously concentrating on wishing you a truly wonderful 2010...<br /><br />merry merry,<br /><br />Jean<br /><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-36957642403346699532009-11-05T23:42:00.000-05:002009-11-06T00:01:09.398-05:00iWrite: tweens & teens write about life and adoption<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha21Bjq7y4OT9MyHJpaWVNcUpK8wlXj9tTcHrOHOa63YFx_cq5PvhLEMLIR3yH4PchUNsJo03JDz2UPAfG1uwBeWXvY3WIYQJzR5UGdULuiuioU4vfqZADoDkO6ltKi6esMTMgStT9nGKU/s1600-h/Homecoming+2009+024ed.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha21Bjq7y4OT9MyHJpaWVNcUpK8wlXj9tTcHrOHOa63YFx_cq5PvhLEMLIR3yH4PchUNsJo03JDz2UPAfG1uwBeWXvY3WIYQJzR5UGdULuiuioU4vfqZADoDkO6ltKi6esMTMgStT9nGKU/s320/Homecoming+2009+024ed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400848346805506850" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" >Recently, in Minnesota, I had the opportunity to run my workshop "iWrite: tweens and teens write about life and adoption" for a group of 26 China adoptees. For 90 minutes, my multi-age workshop participants excitedly shared their creativity, contributed personal comments, and realized the power of owning their life stories. Group energy opens windows and doors for for even the most recalcitrant workshop attendees, and the lure of expressing their personal reality in a new notebook was simply too hard to resist!<br /><br />It is very positive, and very powerful, to witness a gathering of tweens and teens 'recognize' the possibility that has been handed to them--it's as if they were finally doled out a voice and told they could use it any way they wanted. Based on the series of workshops I've been presenting, I wrote an article for an upcoming issue of <a href="http://meimagazine.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Mei Magazine</span></a>. I told tween / teen readers-<br /><br />"Ignoring the story of your early life in another place and time isn’t the best solution, even if that option feels really convenient. It’s <span style="font-style: italic;">your</span> life, a vital piece of who you are, and you get to…<br /><br />OWN IT.<br /><br />Really. Your story belongs to you, and you get to decide who to tell, how to tell it and how to write about it--your personal ‘voice’ is allowed to explain, explore or embellish the facts, all of the maybes and even the unknowns. You might not have a lot of information about your pre-adoptive months or years, but <span style="font-style: italic;">your feelings</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">your perceptions</span> about an earlier time in your life are yours to keep, think about and especially, to express."<br /><br />Last night, I read the chapter excerpt from the new EMK Press book for teens, "<a href="http://www.emkpress.com/teenbook.html"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Pieces of Me</span></a>" and was so impressed with the words of the book's contributors. Bert Ballard, the book's editor, reinforced what I've been discovering in my workshops with kids, and what I can share with parents: our adopted children often feel a disconnect with their own life stories, and could use a few expressive tools of discovery. Writing, reading, artwork, music--whatever gives kids the 'connect' to tie their before-and-after adoption selves together, can strengthen a tween or teen's whole persona.<br /><br />Groups of adoptees in a workshop setting can be a tough audience; I've learned that our kids don't need "adoption talk" crammed down their throats--they need the tools to say what they need to express, and our freeing parental encouragement to own all of their pieces.<br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(136, 136, 136);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" ><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">Jean </span><br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/" target="_blank">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">scroll down for more</span><br /></span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-81837274193167344142009-11-05T23:06:00.000-05:002009-11-06T00:13:56.602-05:00Our New Baby<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgByD5kz6cYb74B-Jz30KbBOi93A90eTVo6tQD_fJQxpO1DP2uXH4BZLru0CsP2vM3EICIFhyphenhyphenKQZhed-FPAitxi4vSbvyqlPnL6nxcWmdSC15aVrYc0btbDBySe66IkL7KrIu7MBqBTp-Ri/s1600-h/Tobi+Oct+3+2009+005ed2a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgByD5kz6cYb74B-Jz30KbBOi93A90eTVo6tQD_fJQxpO1DP2uXH4BZLru0CsP2vM3EICIFhyphenhyphenKQZhed-FPAitxi4vSbvyqlPnL6nxcWmdSC15aVrYc0btbDBySe66IkL7KrIu7MBqBTp-Ri/s320/Tobi+Oct+3+2009+005ed2a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400840524309581826" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Honestly, I would never have been in the Humane Society so soon after losing Skippy if my youngest daughter wasn't crying herself to sleep every night, clutching a glass jar containing Skippy's collar, his toy mouse and a few sad tufts of fur...</span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: arial;"> ohh it was grim!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >We needed the daily burden of not-being-met-at-the-door-by-our-cat lifted, so that's how I found myself bonding through a crate at <a href="http://www.michiganhumane.org/">MHS</a> with a skinny little tiger kitten. He gazed at me with a great deal of aplomb, reached a long scrawny paw through the wire to grab my finger, and gently held on.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Yep, I was his.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Welcome, Tobi!<br /><br /> Jean<br /> <a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br /> <br /></span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-3396939771028361152009-09-11T02:26:00.000-04:002009-09-11T13:28:27.732-04:00Loves Kids...and Mice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC2fw-v_A-tTB_1Fj11I4f8IopFDEIj-bwoeKEtlISaph8ZHpedPk7fx8zcHTzpYsKqi_pbDu8ncCG9pgfpUZm5azcVfyY60ZTgYvhEP1QN2v4Q_l5BrXp3oIJ8_tstLuHkIXCxZY2LGAQ/s1600-h/Skippy+headshot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC2fw-v_A-tTB_1Fj11I4f8IopFDEIj-bwoeKEtlISaph8ZHpedPk7fx8zcHTzpYsKqi_pbDu8ncCG9pgfpUZm5azcVfyY60ZTgYvhEP1QN2v4Q_l5BrXp3oIJ8_tstLuHkIXCxZY2LGAQ/s320/Skippy+headshot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380112250104086322" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I had a cat once that made me crazy and saved my sanity...</span><br /><br />In 1996 my family received our referral of a tiny baby in China. A few weeks later, expecting travel confirmation, I ripped open a letter from our adoption agency. We were informed that a Bureau reorganization within China had put our adoption on indefinite hold, and that it could be many months before we were able to bring our daughter home. I had an infant, but I couldn’t see her or hold her or nurture her. I couldn’t soothe her when she cried, I couldn’t be there when she needed me. <span style="font-style: italic;">I couldn’t control what happened to her</span>.<br /><br />I went quietly<span style="font-weight: bold;"> nuts</span>.<br /><br />From the outside, I looked like a fully functioning human being. Inside, I had worn myself hollow. My friend Georgiann, a wise adoptive mom and veteran of several failed private adoptions, looked into my eyes one day and gave me counsel equaling a slap in the face with a leather glove.<br /><br />“You’ve got to GIVE UP control when going through the adoption process,” Georgiann told me. “This is out of your hands. You have done everything you can do without negatively interfering in the process--now you need to trust.”<br /><br />So I took a deep metaphorical breath, went adoption-zen and channeled my depressed energy into a tiny kitten that needed a home. Yes, I already had a six year old child; yes, I had an adult cat--but I needed a baby to pull me through and I found a baby cat willing to take me on.<br /><br />He was lively and smart and tenacious--he ran up walls, opened door-knobs and turned on light switches. When it was breakfast time IT WAS TIME FOR BREAKFAST and he walked up and down my body with his heavy Maine Coon paws until I fumbled my way out of bed to get him his kibble. He leaped on the dinner table and chased the children and was happiest in the middle of a gang of toddlers bent on terrifying kitty-play. This cat owned our backyard and half of our street and he had <span style="font-style: italic;">duties</span> to perform to protect his people and his kingdom. He would howl to get out and he would sit under my window at 5:00 a.m and yowl to get back in. I would frequently snap and utter his cat name in vain, but it didn’t matter. He was incessant and stubborn and daring, and he loved us with all of his big lion-like heart.<br /><br />He adored the baby we brought home from China and he was thrilled when we brought home her little sister almost four years later. He was part of the family bed and late night feedings; he kept me company during my divorce; he watched over us during our move and met each one of us at the door after a day at school or work. He worried when my eldest daughter went off to college, and stayed reassuringly close if one of us fell ill.<br /><br />After 13 years of tending to us, he died in my arms. And with him went the constant undercurrent of his furry care and concern. Yeah, he was ‘just a cat’, but he life-lined me and I owed him. I had some lessons to learn before I held my baby from China in 1996, and he was both a step toward letting go, and a step toward loving.<br /><br />This is much too heavy a legacy for one cat to have to wear, however, so my daughters and I trimmed the profundity down to a simple epigraph that summed our old boy up. We have sent it on to Cat Heaven with him, and we feel sure the recommendation should open some doors:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >"Is okay with crazy; loves kids and mice."</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />=^..^=</span><br /></div> <br /><div style="text-align: center;">XOX<br /></div><br />Jean<br /><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;">scroll down for more...</span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-74509264959029472732009-08-27T19:24:00.000-04:002009-08-27T22:04:06.850-04:00A WALK in JURASSIC PARK<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHufYXoN5uDkGgc3ETos2WNIw1rG8389Gq7i2jV8x4I2hlE1Tl3mPg_-DjmrbWQCElMVTW3KsvlNAbfWPSUTfTS2poGh4dczni_LGZm8o7BqsJesvcPOkXhWusRCptkmVMaZJAM0S853PY/s1600-h/jurassic+park+blog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHufYXoN5uDkGgc3ETos2WNIw1rG8389Gq7i2jV8x4I2hlE1Tl3mPg_-DjmrbWQCElMVTW3KsvlNAbfWPSUTfTS2poGh4dczni_LGZm8o7BqsJesvcPOkXhWusRCptkmVMaZJAM0S853PY/s320/jurassic+park+blog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374791298170716306" border="0" /></a><br />My friend Krista is dropping her college freshman daughter off at school on Sunday. This highly competent, single working mom has been hit upside the head with a plank: her youngest child will be gone in four days, which means her own life is irrevocably changing. My friend dreads the emptiness she senses just past Sunday…she realizes the opportunities inherent in ‘change’ but Krista has been emotionally gobsmacked; she was not prepared to have to explore her past and present feelings, and she has been <span style="font-style: italic;">completely immobilized</span> by the Big Dinosaur Sitting in her Living Room…<br /><br />My lifelong friend, Suzanne, flew up from Texas to clean out the house her parents built and lived in for over 50 years. I lived eight houses down from Suzanne for most of my youth, and her parent’s home was as familiar to me as my own. Suzanne’s dad died several years ago, and her mom is now living in assisted living down in Texas. Halfway through the pack-up process, Suzanne tucked herself back into her old twin bed and simply refused to get up. It was a Dinosaur Crisis! Suzanne had stumbled into a pre-history ambush. Every photo, memento and 8mm movie spun Suzanne back to her childhood, and finally forced her to witness the changes in her family (and herself) that had occurred over the last twenty-five years.<br /><br />Why do we adults believe that we can handle ‘change’ with shopping lists and a few packing boxes? Our adopted children may be on to something--their hypervigilant over-reaction to transition and change may provide them with more emotional preparation than our grown-up disregard for change’s profound effects will ever provide for us. As adoptive parents, we offer a sad or scared child a safe place to talk, grieve, celebrate and plan. Perhaps we need to recognize how change provokes these connective needs within ourselves, too.<br /><br />Graduation parties, weddings, funerals, baby showers, ‘gotcha’ days, coming-of-age celebrations, even kindergarten round-up; these rituals help us structure our experiences, but don’t quite finish the job of <span style="font-style: italic;">processing</span>. Immediately after my dad died a couple of years ago, a therapist friend gave me some meaningful advice. She said, “<span style="font-weight: bold;">You need to take care of yourself right now, and for the months to come</span>.” It was so simple--but it was the heads-up I needed to understand the physical, mental and emotional impact of the grieving-integrating process I was embarking on.<br /><br />It took three of us to rent Suzanne a storage unit, move her boxes and get her out of bed. Maybe we all need to form posse’s to accompany friends through our personal Jurassic Parks, and help support each other’s encounters with past history and Big Changes.<br /><br />Understanding the powerful, emotional ramifications of change, and why we trigger so profoundly over both the important and the mundane (old letters between our parents, a toy we gave our 18 year old when he was in first grade, family camping trip memorabilia), opens a door and helps us find a place to put our memories, or our remorse, or the overwhelming love for individuals who have ‘left’ us. Feeling the sting of personal change, transition, or loss may also help us generate more empathic responses for our adopted children when they express (or act out) bittersweet feelings over losing their entire first lives with other families.<br /><br />Dinosaurs are scary symbols of what we need to either slay or befriend (there is no escaping Jurassic Park, or the previous life choices we have made). Understanding our deeply buried, ‘ancient’ connections to events occurring today, gives us a different perspective on our surprising over-reactions, and unfreezes our ability to act.<br /><br />Last month, I took my kids back to <a href="http://www.frontrangeliving.com/outdoors/DinosaurRidge.htm">Dinosaur Ridge</a> outside of Denver, where we gazed at real footprints made by dinos about 150 million years ago during the Jurassic Period. I like the visual symbolism of the <span style="font-style: italic;">Stegosaurus</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Apatosaurus</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Diplodocus</span>, and <span style="font-style: italic;">Allosaurus</span> footprints we saw walking the ‘Dinosaur Highway’; they remind me that beings may be gone but never forgotten, that extinction--of anything--is a process, and that remains of the past are <span style="font-style: italic;">supposed</span> to be witnessed, studied and touched…<br /><br />Jean<br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;">scroll down for more...</span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-26338338300285919222009-08-15T12:44:00.000-04:002009-08-19T14:19:51.474-04:00Back to School FREAK OUTS<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uiy8SGiXfyX4rILBrdmu_2DZPDfN3fKQ346UssHA_aDl0bdMs6E07aLTwlXT5ljgpY0JLMiz2nom0RVCRN_yrP4hni9P-lc0M_EN9ZZhssB9gxJFInnaghkxLl1qQ3DgoC0k51mY3yE-/s1600-h/First+Day.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-uiy8SGiXfyX4rILBrdmu_2DZPDfN3fKQ346UssHA_aDl0bdMs6E07aLTwlXT5ljgpY0JLMiz2nom0RVCRN_yrP4hni9P-lc0M_EN9ZZhssB9gxJFInnaghkxLl1qQ3DgoC0k51mY3yE-/s320/First+Day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370233697146977890" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span>Ten years ago, when my middle daughter entered preschool, <i>I </i>entered the mystifying, frustrating world of parenting an adopted child with major school anxiety--a world where the anxiety didn't abate with lots of mother love or the quick fixes proposed in regular childcare books or magazines.<br /><br />It was <span style="font-weight: bold;">Mommy Education</span> at it's finest (meaning: I was handed a difficult opportunity to become a more knowledgeable, empathic parent and I wasn't AT ALL thrilled with the situation!). I learned what I needed to know the slow, hard way, and I was able to help my child ever-after...but it would have been <span style="font-style: italic;">so much easier</span> to understand what I was dealing with upfront. I needed an adoptive mom mentor to sit me down with a glass of wine, and explain the over-the-top kid freak-outs surrounding school, change and separation.<br /><br /><i>So, pour yourself a whoppin' glass of Merlot and read on for the two-minute heads-up I wish I'd had in August 1999...</i><br /><br />"Anxiety and difficulty with Transitions (such as starting School) often go hand in hand. When I talk about making transitions in my workshops, I am talking about <b>Empowering a Child to Face Change</b>. A child’s easy transition to new circumstances is based on an infancy and childhood of complete trust. While transitioning seems like a natural skill, it is really an outgrowth of temperament, a child’s trusting belief in a safe, secure world, and her unshakeable faith in her invincible parents! An <b>adopted </b>child has experienced loss and understands the terror of vulnerability; she knows that change isn’t necessarily a positive event, and deeply fears that it could mean losing parents, friends and home. <i>It has happened before</i>. <b>Change forces anxieties to the surface. Understanding the real, underlying source of the anxiety is a child’s first step to coping with it.</b><br /><br />Talk to your child about her or his anxiety and teach your adopted child that it is rooted in <b>LOSS</b>. Help her to understand WHY she feels and reacts the way she does. This is the first step to empowering her—helping her to consciously make OVER-RIDE CHOICES about her behavior and her physiological reactions. How does debilitating anxiety affect her: <b>flight, fight or freeze</b>? Let her know that she can <i>still act and still make choices even when she is afraid</i>. Knowing ‘why’ she feels the way she does will help her re-frame her self-image, and may eventually help her to push through fear triggers. Role-play possible scenarios in advance, so your child has an arsenal of responses to fall back on...<br /><br />Let your child know that bravery means ‘doing or acting’ even when a person is afraid, and be sure to reinforce her bravery over <i>any</i> small steps forward--even if the step forward is accompanied by a half-step back."<br /><br />It sounds so simple, doesn't it? Well, it's not an easy process. But with work and time (and outside professional help, if indicated), our children can heal. With our help, they can learn to cope, and they can select and internalize the tools to recognize, acknowledge, then obliterate, their fears.<br /><br />My traumatized preschooler has grown into a spectacular 13 year old, and has a keen awareness of what she needs in order to feel comfortable in this world. She will be starting high school in the fall, and is experiencing a <i>normal</i> level of anxiety--along with anticipation and excitement.<br /><br />Oh wait...did I say <i>high school</i>??? Someone, quick, please pour me another glass of wine... :)<br /><br />Jean<br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">scroll down for more...</span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-73135606908451800012009-08-08T16:27:00.000-04:002009-08-19T14:21:01.937-04:00NEW: Toolbox Movie Review!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTK7xN4wuqOjjDWaMsHZlSvweiAAw4Kl1-8p6KGkT-P2XQMnVihAdD9QKqKxU0NAnx2syveLrFFwCFohxdqenhuZV5qKmNzNl_qGy2XK8dB2IvfsZti-uS9D2IVozZg7lPyBiSJNSI95Fe/s1600-h/orphan2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTK7xN4wuqOjjDWaMsHZlSvweiAAw4Kl1-8p6KGkT-P2XQMnVihAdD9QKqKxU0NAnx2syveLrFFwCFohxdqenhuZV5qKmNzNl_qGy2XK8dB2IvfsZti-uS9D2IVozZg7lPyBiSJNSI95Fe/s320/orphan2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367694962436177266" border="0" /></a><br />Adoption-related movies are currently HOT and I sure wouldn't want to miss a trend. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Orphan</span> (the movie) made an especially heated entrance this summer. until the famously camp 'surprise ending' spoiled a chunk of our a-parent outrage.<br />[<a href="http://gawker.com/5322122/youll-never-guess-orphans-surprise-ending-because-its-completely-ridiculous">Click here for bizarre SPOILER</a>]<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Adopted the Movie</span> has been gathering steam and rave reviews, and appears to be making a positive, ongoing impact on our group adoption-consciousness [<a href="http://www.youtube.com/adoptedthemovie">Click here for intelligent CLIPS</a>]<br /><br />Sooo, I've decided to get in on the adoption media splash and add my own knee-jerk reactions to movies pertaining (sort of) to our adoptive families. Introducing...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;">The Occasional Adoption Toolbox Movie Mom Review...<br />where <span style="font-style: italic;">Family Fun</span> meets <span style="font-style: italic;">Star Magazine</span><br /></div><br />I ordered "Bad News Bears" (1976-PG) for my 10 year old from the kid's section at Netflix. We sat down recently to watch it together...I was expecting to see Walter Matthau's grumpy mug, and had a <span style="font-style: italic;">very bad creeper feeling</span> when the opening shot of the Bear's baseball coach captured him pouring whiskey into his beer can...and far worse, Walter Matthau was looking a lot like Billy Bob Thornton...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">It </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">was</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Billy Bob.</span><br /><br />Dang, they went and updated the original, lovable Bad News Bears baseball movie (re-make: 2005, PG-13). Waaay too much swearing, even for me, and lots of Hooters girls and references to crack. But still mildly entertaining, if you don't mind explaining numerous scatological/sexual references to your young child (yes, well). Billy Bob actually does a great job as the has-been big-leaguer turned pest-exterminator, showcasing that same, dark underlying energy that his ex-wife, Angelina Jolie, exudes without much effort.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Girlfriend</span>: Angie and Brad will never last. Brad doesn't have the darkness and Angelina will eventually get very bored. Really, how could Brad hope to follow the previous Angie & Billy Bob partnership? Sure, Brad and Angie have birthed and adopted 18 children together, but it's <span style="font-style: italic;">tough</span> to top a couple that wore each others tatts and vials of each others blood.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Adoption Toolbox film review rating for the newer Bad News Bears</span>: Amusing but Wildly Inappropriate for children. I give it one finger up (yeah, the one they use frequently in the movie)<br /><br />Jean<br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Scroll down for more...</span>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-81153920677679857482009-08-04T20:40:00.000-04:002009-10-07T23:00:47.168-04:00Sisterhood & The Secret Life of Girls<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6J6J2dKC0YCUGUI1XHnbLCLsA2cd32TTFkWtsWlv77ypoFp56trTxsMOjDGORczaH3IAuP8ezyNG5ZP3pAKqi5-MRYalYy6g4M2ZjNFL2hhL6d9Ulcvl8QrrGVA_gngm6RPIazb8kTqVN/s1600-h/CO+heritage+Camp+2009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 354px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6J6J2dKC0YCUGUI1XHnbLCLsA2cd32TTFkWtsWlv77ypoFp56trTxsMOjDGORczaH3IAuP8ezyNG5ZP3pAKqi5-MRYalYy6g4M2ZjNFL2hhL6d9Ulcvl8QrrGVA_gngm6RPIazb8kTqVN/s400/CO+heritage+Camp+2009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366274346150291746" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Trusting each other can be hard<br />Send me a message from your heart<br />Together, forever<br />Sharing and caring<br />That's the secret life of girls, that's the secret life of girls...<br /></span><br />Last weekend, <a href="http://heritagecamps.org/">Chinese Heritage Camp Too</a> in Denver, Colorado, offered programming for high-schoolers for the very first time. The first really significant wave of China adoptees (largely girls adopted in 1995-1996) are hitting upper school age, and adoptive parents and heritage camp coordinators are scrambling to find ways to maintain the tracks laid in Families with Children from China support groups a long while back. The tsunami is rumbling; over 60,000 children have been adopted from China over the last 15 years, and the leading edge has turned into teenagers!<br /><br />Thirteen young Chinese-American women from all over the USA came to Colorado Heritage Camp with their families, and promptly entered into camp's teen-world-with-a-twist. China adoption was the common tie, and it provided the easy unspoken connection that held this disparate group of girls together.<br /><br />"When i was at camp i felt like i belonged - asian girls with white parents - i wasn't different and it was a nice change. Even living in a diverse area, i don't see many adoptees on a daily basis, so it felt good" my 13 year old wrote in her journal. "We came from really different places and had lots of different personalities...but it didn't matter."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You pick me up when I am down<br />You make me smile when you're around<br />All the memories are so sweet<br />Like the party from last week<br />That's the secret life of girls, that's the secret life of girls...</span><br /><br />SISTERHOOD was the teen theme, and the girls spent part of Friday meeting with college women from the local <a href="http://www.colorado.edu/greeks/sigmapsizeta/aboutus.html">Sigma Psi Zeta Sorority</a>. SPZ is the only Multicultural Asian Interest Greek organization at the University of Colorado at Boulder, and the sorority sisters talked and answered questions about their own experiences as college students, and as Asian American women.<br /><br />Bonding was solidified on Saturday, when the teens were spirited away to the mountains where they faced "the ultimate Colorado outdoor experience" on the Challenge Ropes Course! The entire day was designed to build trust, teamwork and creative problem-solving, and the girls were incredibly supportive of each other. The tiniest step on the high ropes was cheered, and a participant's ability to overcome high-anxiety was totally appreciated by this group of kids who all understood the meaning of everyday bravery.<br /><br />The teens also learned how to express themselves through songwriting, and 'group-wrote' lyrics and music around the Sisterhood motif. Jasmine Pyne, a member of the teen group, used her previous, professional experience as a singer to lead the girls through the steps involved in creating words and music. The teens performed their song, "The Secret Life of Girls", accompanied by Jasmine's dad on the acoustic guitar, at the camp's closing ceremonies over Dim Sum. If we parents needed proof that our babies were growing up, it was there on the stage in front of us...our daughters were proud to present their own collaboration, and happy to be up there with each other. There is strength in numbers, there is Sisterhood in adoption, there is power in coming together.<br /><br />"When we parents are long gone" said Richard Fischer, teen program co-coordinator with his wife, Annie, and publisher of <a href="http://www.adoptiontoday.com/">Adoption TODAY Magazine</a>, "my hope is that our daughters will have each other."<br /><br />Our daughters all went straight to the practical teen reality of staying connected. My 13 year old added: "Dim sum brunch was all pictures (i think i'm still half-blind) and passing around cell phones to capture each others info ("can you text?!"). AND if any of you guys are reading this, i miss you and luv you!"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Through the fights and the tears<br />All that matters - we are here!<br />That's the secret life of girls, that's the secret life of girls...<br />That's the secret life of girls!</span><br /><br />New! Click <a href="http://mail.google.com/a/jeaniemac.me/?ui=2&ik=8cd3708ca4&view=att&th=123e2bd0dda7eda1&attid=0.1&disp=attd&zw"><span style="font-weight: bold;">HERE</span></a> to play mp3 song download<br /><br />(Lyrics and music by TEENS of Chinese Heritage Camp Too, Copyright 2009, All Rights ReservedJean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-49741255530623452142009-07-27T11:31:00.000-04:002009-07-27T13:54:23.710-04:00So what's the BIG DEAL?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinrvpvlgYbkmq0cPGLFZX9bTCOBVBPWNuV3vZh2V0LbJulvZv30JSJkSNPVx5LrFM8Y16wpQH9wHeXPxSfZgh16XYsY8GHX4o8xduHYdkAEukjpsGWxWMdCXGQFZIbM6RItIb9DPW20wr0/s1600-h/tiger.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 126px; height: 129px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinrvpvlgYbkmq0cPGLFZX9bTCOBVBPWNuV3vZh2V0LbJulvZv30JSJkSNPVx5LrFM8Y16wpQH9wHeXPxSfZgh16XYsY8GHX4o8xduHYdkAEukjpsGWxWMdCXGQFZIbM6RItIb9DPW20wr0/s400/tiger.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363166697359430722" /></a><br />Henry Louis Gates, Jr. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What’s the Big Deal?</span> A week ago, in an incident teeming with allegations of racism, profiling and the abuse of police power, one of the most educated and respected men in the USA was arrested for breaking into his own home. <br /><br />Mr. Gates was royally pissed off for coming under suspicion for HWB (“Housing While Black”), and according to the <a href="http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2009/0723092gates1.html">Cambridge police incident report</a>, yelled “This is what happens to black men in America!” to arresting officers and onlookers. <br /><br />Consider this: Gates has been lauded and honored for his integrity and has credentials at Harvard; Time Magazine chose him as one of their top 25 most-influential people in the nation. Yet, many commenters chose to believe that Gates handled the situation poorly - that he had over-reacted by expressing his anger and frustration over a humiliating experience, that he should have borne his mistaken accusation like - well, like a white guy would have ("gee, thanks for stopping by Officer - I’ve really got to get this front door fixed! Thank goodness we have a Neighborhood Watch!”) <br /><br />Hmmm. <br /><br />Why wouldn’t we believe one of the most intelligent, most honored, most scholarly men in our country when he actually yells foul? Why <span style="font-style:italic;">on earth</span> wouldn't we believe a man with Gates’ background, reputation, and work when he publicly identifies and calls-out racism? Would it be our cultural eyes-averted reaction to race, and our denial of the potential for racism and white privilege in Gates' situation?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Big Deal is This:</span> Transracial adoption makes the Gates story personal. I discussed the Gates story with my daughters from China, and I plan to mention it in my workshop at Colorado Chinese Heritage Camp next weekend. Adopting the Asian 'model minority' only means that imbedded, culturally acceptable racism - the invisible tiger - is harder to see, and harder to deal with it when it finally shows. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">What are you so mad at?<br />I was only joking!<br />I didn’t mean any harm!<br />Just keeping the neighborhood safe… </span><br /><br />Gates, a 58 year old black man needing a cane to walk and suffering jet lag following an overseas flight, stood his ground on his own front porch and identified the tiger’s stripes loud and clear. He was arrested for ‘disorderly conduct’ on his own property. <br /><br />May we all be aware enough to teach our children of color what racism looks like (especially when it hides behind Niceness) and how to call it by name. And may we be brave enough to examine our own 'socially acceptable' first responses. <br /><br />Honestly, I'm not sure what my initial reaction would have been if I had been a resident of the Cambridge neighborhood watching the ‘break-in’. How much racism do I secretly own? <span style="font-weight:bold;">I need to remember that every time I ‘make nice’ to gently bigoted remarks, or try to reframe a racist incident, <span style="font-style:italic;">I am driving a silent wedge between me and my daughters.</span> </span><br /><br />And that is how the tiger works…<br /><br />Jean<br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-85931627126456054992009-07-24T01:59:00.000-04:002011-02-21T17:16:14.106-05:00MIDDLE AGE MOM & FAMILY FUN<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyoIw4xxFm4YUkAbg_SYPN4b3BOBV3hwope1acUeq_qkTk9b6UMOKuSCdlIrebMCWPk_TwPfYMXwoX1Hkz72zhsBDmVBYOMlzm6VG4rIGWw-neJZfzPp2ASPDy8vgWBUp6FqRzzKCq7r2F/s1600-h/Whistler_James_Arrangement_in_Grey_and_Black_1871ed.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361905926221949554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyoIw4xxFm4YUkAbg_SYPN4b3BOBV3hwope1acUeq_qkTk9b6UMOKuSCdlIrebMCWPk_TwPfYMXwoX1Hkz72zhsBDmVBYOMlzm6VG4rIGWw-neJZfzPp2ASPDy8vgWBUp6FqRzzKCq7r2F/s320/Whistler_James_Arrangement_in_Grey_and_Black_1871ed.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 277px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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LOCAL NEWS ITEM: "<span style="font-style: italic;">Creative Endeavors Gift Shop at the Community Center invites area seniors age 50 and over to sell their arts and crafts at the shop</span>."<br />
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This one stopped me cold. I will admit, at age 53, that I could be in age-denial. But arts and crafts at the senior center? I mean, WHERE EXACTLY DOES THAT FIT IN? I have a 10 year old for god's sake. Now, my 10 year old might actually <span style="font-style: italic;">like</span> to do crafts with me, but it hasn't happened yet and likely never will. We are too busy going to raves together and renting R-rated movies...well, that's our attitude, anyway.<br />
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CONFESSION: In a sick fit of guilty self-flagellation, I ordered <span style="font-style: italic;">Family Fun</span> magazine from our school's fundraiser last year. This magazine turns me to stone. I open it up and am completely horrified by my own inadequacies...yet I read on!<br />
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"Who ordered this?" my 19 year old asked, seeing <span style="font-style: italic;">Family Fun</span> on the table one morning next to my coffee cup and Donettes.<br />
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"I did", I answered. She raised her eyebrows at me.<br />
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"But Mom, this magazine is about crafts and scrapbooking and baking cupcakes," she explained.<br />
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"I've decided there's still time to parent your sisters more productively than I parented you, " I said pointedly.<br />
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Ahh, but who am I kidding. The only thing worse than reading <span style="font-style: italic;">Family Fun</span> magazine is reading the magazine's "Mailbox" section. This is where I am forced to face the facts: there are moms out there who actually DO these craft projects with their kids, and they document their alien acts of Quality Time with photographs and lively captions.<br />
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YES, but...none of these <span style="font-style: italic;">Family Fun</span> moms are 53. I recently read a "<span style="font-style: italic;">Throw a Family Reunion Camp-Out</span>" article in the August issue, and it took me a moment to realize that the attractive 'mom' model featured in the article's inter-generational photo spread was actually supposed to be the <span style="font-weight: bold;">grandma</span>. I was sort of relating to her, too, and thinking she might pass for 35 if she got rid of the gray.<br />
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I guess my real problem isn't with my age (AARP offers the absolute <i>best</i> hotel discounts), or with my inability to engage in crafts. My problem is with the schizophrenic way our culture deals with older moms - like we are just not supposed to exist. Apparently, I should either be retired and selling my bird houses at the Creative Endeavors Senior Shop, <span style="font-style: italic;">or</span> be 26 and directing the kids in making a "Woven Tie-Dye Wall" (I am not joking. This is the name of a real <span style="font-style: italic;">Family Fun</span> project). Older mom demographics seem to mystify Marketing and Advertising; add an Asian child or two to the mix and I think they all just throw up their hands.<br />
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After I read an issue of<span style="font-style: italic;"> Family Fun</span> I practically fall to the sofa with inertia. I am not jealous of the young moms who do fun things with their children - I am jealous of their energy. I am tempted to start my own magazine for older adoptive parents, featuring lots of sugar and caffeine. I will offer articles on retirement-parenting, and on living cheap in Costa Rica on depleted investment funds. The magazine will be realistic, witty, wise, with big print. Sorry, no crafts.<br />
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Jean<br />
<a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com/">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1338600172172313814.post-59914586111261182762009-07-15T14:54:00.000-04:002009-07-19T13:51:50.446-04:00WTH: Nice People<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX0b3w1t7U8673XAgAE_yobj5hqb-UFkdBqReqPsVi_tiTEPhQOm0nadz2vM0DF8dNJlWmdGh2-V-KSEmrA42V-ugvbcMfjLFuYt3jUb1yroCDfkyw_PilrCrvTQcGicdrRdqgGwrttkUE/s1600-h/Lily+in+Park.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX0b3w1t7U8673XAgAE_yobj5hqb-UFkdBqReqPsVi_tiTEPhQOm0nadz2vM0DF8dNJlWmdGh2-V-KSEmrA42V-ugvbcMfjLFuYt3jUb1yroCDfkyw_PilrCrvTQcGicdrRdqgGwrttkUE/s320/Lily+in+Park.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358766490079278434" border="0" /></a><br />1) <span style="font-weight: bold;">Lily</span>, my 13.5 year old, belongs to our church youth group. She recently went through an intense, year-long Rites of Passage Experience (ROPE) with thirteen of her 8th grade cohorts - culminating in a wonderful trip to Boston. Great kids, great parents, exceptionally liberal church. One of Lily's ROPE friends, Emma, is a Korean adoptee - the only other girl of color in this small church group. Lily was born in China and (I must say this), the two girls look nothing alike.<br /><br />I bumped into one of the other church parents and her ROPE daughter at Blue Lake Music Camp last weekend. Lily was in the orchestra, and the mom and daughter were at the camp performance to see a relative. "We didn't expect to see you here! Is Emma in the concert?" the mom asked. "Is Emma here?!" the daughter enthused.<br /><br />"Well, I don't know if <span style="font-style: italic;">Emma</span> is here, but LILY is in the orchestra" I answered. This went over as you might imagine. I watched nice people visibly deflate and fumble for words, and so I automatically did what I've been culturally molded to do: I tossed them a conversational lifeline.<br /><br />"It's okay," I said. But it wasn't.<br /><br />It diminished my daughter. It stripped her of her individuality. It was hurtful.<br /><br />2) A couple of weeks ago I sat with another ROPE family at a graduation party. I really like the mom and dad, and their red-haired son, Grant, attends both church and school with Lily. Lily was disgusted with Grant, however. She told me that he was friends with her at church, but that he ignored her at school. Grant was apparently 'cooler' than Lily's group of largely Asian-American friends, and simply wouldn't hang with her when popularity was at stake. This was my white mom take, initially, BUT (and this is huge) I was looking at the situation via MY OWN high school pecking order perspective.<br /><br />Big mistake. I tend to forget (still!) that <span style="font-weight: bold;">RACE MATTERS</span>.<br /><br />Lily got what was going on, and set me straight. She was angry, and had every right to be.<br /><br />At the grad party, Grant's mom asked me who Lily had gone to the 8th grade dance with. I mentioned a boy with an obviously Chinese name, and the dad nonchalantly interjected, "They all like to hang together, don't they?"<br /><br />"THEY all like to hang together because little racist a*holes like your son treat 'them' like shit at school" is what I said.<br /><br />In my head. About two hours later.<br /><br />I am able to confront the haters and the skinheads, but I am obviously needing to learn how to better deal with the clueless 'nice people' - people I usually really like, people who have chosen to live in a diverse community, and who attend a liberal church alongside my own family. This is where transracial adoption leaves a gap...it's tough to educate a child on the actual, real-life <span style="font-style: italic;">mechanics </span>of living as a child of color when you are a white parent on your own learning curve. It's not like I didn't know this - I've read the books and listened to the speakers and have even written the articles - but I am seeing <span style="font-weight: bold;">COLOR DEFINE</span> more as my daughter from China grows into teenhood and high school. It affects her peer group, her socialization, her dating.<br /><br />I'm sure Lily has had her own What-The-Hell moments over the last school year. She is a popular and savvy child, but she has an Asian face and white girl 'insides'. So far, this double helix has given her a 360 understanding...which is 180 degrees more than what I currently possess.<br /><br />So... I listen to my daughter, I validate her, and I learn.<br /><br />Jean<br /><a href="http://adoptiontoolbox.com">www.AdoptionToolbox.com</a>Jean at Adoption Toolboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02032759424564478794noreply@blogger.com7