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Jean MacLeod

SMALL HEART & the art of juju parenting

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. 

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.

"What does this say, Lily?"

Lily looked at the Chinese characters carefully and answered "Xiao Xin...Small Heart."

I glanced at her sideways. "What? I would have thought it would say 'Be careful - small parts - not for kids under three'."

"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."

Aieeee. 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: small heart.

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:

No running in platform flip-flops!
No putting watch batteries in your mouth!
No falling in love with 17 year old K-pop dancers with cars and undetermined intentions!
SMALL HEART!

Driving along, I began to see true potential in this Chinese phrase; I could make the term personal, and use it for dramatic effect. Graduation party?  I'm on it.

What I say: "Have fun! Be home before 11:00 pm! (Tap chest meaningfully) Small heart."
Translation: "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."

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 Xiao Xin idiom. There is 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 "be careful!" is...

Be happy, be healthy, be loved, stay mine.

However, now I will be sure to add in extra juju from my counterparts on another continent, in hopes that its protective powers will help my daughters through high school, college and beyond:

Keep that heart small, damnit...

and let international mother-magic keep us all safe
from breaking.

 Xiao Xin

******

by Jean MacLeod 

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Copyright 2012, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved

The True Secret of Parenting Success

I recently asked the list-members on Adoption Parenting Tweens & Teens the following questions about their adoption-parenting experiences:

• What do you wish you had been better informed about? 
• What has been surprisingly easy / fun? 
• What has been really tough?

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! 

I asked adoptive mom Nicole Magnuson's 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 The True Secret of Parenting Success. From Nicole:

"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:

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.

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.

About parenting, all I know now is "Never say never or always", 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.)

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.

With appreciation for all of us,
Nicole Magnuson
Mom to now-15 domestically adopted girl who is (finally) doing GREAT"

******
Jean MacLeod

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www.AdoptionToolbox.com
Copyright 2012, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved

Image Credit: Tiny House Paintings

Middle Aged Mom @ New Seoul Garden

Adventures in Transracial Parenting

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…

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 very spicy, 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 Chookumi-Bokeum please”) before I got the universal teen vague-look-with-shrug answer. BTW, for future Korean restaurant reference, very spicy means find yourself a burn unit.

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 bulgolgi 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.

“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.”

My mouth was already on fire. A beautiful vegetable tray arrived with our meat, and it featured a tasty kimchi dish. I love cabbage, but this was kimchi stealth cabbage and I was having trouble breathing normally.

“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.

“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.

“Never mind, Sam,” I said. “I’ll go.” I manually uncrossed my legs and made lurching motions away from the table.

“What are you waiting for?” Laura asked.

“For feeling.” I answered. “In my legs. Any kind of feeling.”

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.

“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.

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 Hwoe-Dupbap, get up from their foot-high table and their legs would still work.

“I think we’re too old to eat here”, I said seriously. Sam was crawling furiously toward a server’s tray stand.

“Sam, get UP,” his wife hissed. “Just ask for the check. We’re scaring people.”

“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.

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.

“If you move I could get to the bathroom,” Laura said pointedly.

“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.”

My cell-phone rang. It was Lily, checking in from the movie theater.

“Mom? Are guys still at the restaurant?”

“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…don’t wait up.”

My daughter finally broke her mystified silence. “Mom? Have you guys been drinking?” 

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.

“Yep. Alcohol. Lots of it,” I admitted happily. “G-T-G. Partyyyyyyy!”

 

By Jean MacLeod
www.AdoptionToolbox.com
Copyright 2011, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved

Catch Them Before They Fall

Connor is the kind of guy every mom wants her daughter to someday meet and marry! 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.

Was. Was only 17.

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.

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.

Drinking and driving? What were you thinking? his parents might have said (I would have). Perhaps followed by:

You think you’ll get into Harvard with a DUI on your record?! (This would be parental fear and hurt talking). Plus, maybe even:

You’ve let everyone down. We thought you were responsible and we are very disappointed. The typical parental script.

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 no-matter-what 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.

Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem his parents would have told him.

You have other options, they would have added. Sure, we’re upset, but we’ll stand next to you and we’ll get through this together. Plus, probably even:

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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.” (Ohio State University Medical Center) 

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.

We can voice over and over what Connor’s parents weren’t given a second chance to say:

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.

By Jean MacLeod
www.AdoptionToolbox.com
Copyright 2011, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved

~~~

*Note: Name of teen has been changed for privacy

RESOURCES

Teen Suicide (Warning Signs, Treatment, Prevention) from The Ohio State University Medical Center

The Teenage Brain: Why adolescents sleep in, take risks, and won’t listen to reason
by Nora Underwood in The WALRUS

How to Talk to Your Teens: Exploring the Stuck Spots
by Debbie B. Riley, M.S. in Adoption TODAY Magazine

Adoption Toolbox Tween & Teen Articles

OUT: Tiger Mom -- IN: Panda Mom

MY take on Amy Chua, Tiger Mom? She’s crazed about all of the wrong things. 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.

Introducing: Panda Mom.

Let me give you an example: Me.

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... 

Creative laziness forces Panda Moms to teach their panda cubs how to Make Mama Happy. 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.

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).

“Don’t Make My Life Hard” 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:

Happy Mom + Happy Cubs = Success!

Why do the Big Cats have to make it sooo difficult?

By Jean MacLeod
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Copyright 2011, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved

Holiday REPLAY

I meant to write it all down.
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 2004. I've forgiven myself for neglecting to write it all down ... but it feels so good to read and remember.

A WISH NOTE HOLIDAY

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.

"I need to send Aunt Jennifer a thank you note for the purse she gave me," Molly said.

"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.

"What exactly is a Wish Note?" I asked, with eyebrows raised.

"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 bravado, and I congratulated Hanna on her creativity.

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...

merry merry,
Jean

www.AdoptionToolbox.com

Copyright 2004-2010, MacLeod. All Rights Reserved.

Adoption & College PREP Parenting

Beyond the ACT, SAT and Financial Aid…

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.

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 (“Have fun at school today, hon!”), but she also holds herself to the pervasive academic expectations of her teachers, and especially, of her Asian cohorts.

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!

EXCEPT.

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.

Since preschool, beginnings, endings and separations have triggered overwhelming feelings of loss for my daughter. 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. It has happened before.

A traumatic babyhood may have permanently marked my daughter’s response to change--but recognizing and acknowledging the reasons behind the triggers also equipped Lily with the tools to fight back. 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 middle steps that allowed Lily to ease into new activities and adventures. These three steps are easily personalized for use with families planning for college.

[CLICK HERE for 3 College Middle Step DETAILS]

Lily parlayed the talk, practice, support 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. However, going to college hundreds or thousands of miles away from home means an 18 year old is suddenly without 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.

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.

Emotionally preparing 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.

By Jean MacLeod
www.AdoptionToolbox.com

Copyright 2010, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved

NOTE: 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!). CLICK HERE for stalker parent parody.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

for WARRIOR MOMS on Mother's Day

I didn't sign up to be a Warrior Mom.
It was awarded to me by default: I showed up to mother a baby.
In the early days of our adoption,
I clanked around in oversize Armor that hung heavy and slow.
It took me awhile to realize that it had been designed for me to grow into...
I'd been outfitted as a Warrior Mom
but didn't understand what I was fighting.

It was with fear and steel
that I dealt with awful knowledge:
I was fighting for the love and affection
of a baby who no longer trusted.

Making a child's world right
is all-consuming and never-ending.
I figured out why I wore Armor: it held me up at the end of the day.
So many invisible dragons to slay!
I battled for my baby
and I battled to be her mother.
I took rejection -- arrows glancing off metal-- and came back for more.
I demanded a place in the life of my daughter
and I learned to share her with her past.

I became a Warrior Mom
and ditched the Armor, but kept the shield.
Not for me, but to protect the child that became mine
through sweat and tears and years of no sleep!

Who knew this Mom could tilt at windmills
angry feelings and powerful ghosts?
I don't cook, can't sew, won't craft
but I learned I could fight
and I don’t give up.
Sometimes it takes a Warrior Mom
to claim a child who has gone past love.

Untapped, under-appreciated,
a Mother's Will is Mighty.
It can make love spring from metal
And change Armor to open arms.

~~~
by Jean MacLeod
Copyright 2004, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved
www.AdoptionToolbox.com

Teaching a Baby to Love You is a Lonely Business

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.

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.

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.

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:

"You are a great mom," my own mother told me one day, after watching me slog through months of attachment-parenting.

"You are a strong woman," an adoption therapist told me, which gave me the mantra to get through my week.

"We are so thrilled for her!" 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.

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.

There is invisible strength in Motherhood, and we need to watch out for one another. 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 do 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.

Jean
www.AdoptionToolbox.com

Artwork: Healing Hands by Silvia Hartmann

Copyright 2005 MacLeod, All Rights Reserved
Originally published as Women Who Notice: Speaking Up & Reaching Out; excerpted from Adoption-Parenting: Creating a Toolbox, Building Connections (2006 EMK Press)

‘SWM, 64, Looking for Asian Woman’

How do I describe the spasm of parental pain, anger and fear induced by Date*Line’s Ad of the Week? 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?

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:

• Overt Racism. The ugly, ignorant, sometimes life or death encounters with fearful, power-hungry, bullying individuals, groups or institutions
• Invisible Racism. Masquerades as ‘Niceness’ and Positive Stereotyping. Also may be used to diminish, or control.
• Asiaphiles with Yellow Fever. Men looking for de-humanizing Asian stereotype for sexual gratification. No real relationship required.
  

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?

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…

Because I don’t want to go there. 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 Asian Mystique, and how Hollywood and The Media have continued to fan the ‘exotic’ yellow flames.

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 some white males (with their accompanying de-personalized dream of Asian females). The men I have met over the last 14 years as an active member of Families with Children from China 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.

Sheridan Prasso, author of the book, The Asian Mystique, writes:

“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…”

Prostitute? War victim? When will ‘Chinese orphan’ become the hot, new, fantasy sexual experience for Asiaphiles?

I don’t want to go there, 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 identity formation, and I realize how important it is for my daughters to learn from the strength and collective primary experience of other Asian women.

But, still, I’m the Mom. 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...

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…honesty. 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).

Movies, particularly older films, offer up marvelous conversation starters on racial stereotyping and discrimination in general. Catch Flower Drum Song, The Good Earth, Auntie Mame, Breakfast at Tiffany's or The World of Suzie Wong 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. 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.

So--

‘SWM, 64, Looking for Asian Woman’: First, you get deal with me, AWP [Angry White Parent]. I have a few things I’d like to honestly discuss…

Jean
www.AdoptionToolbox.com
This post is part of my Transracial Parenting Savvy! series
with Psychologist Doris Landry

REACHING BEYOND BIRTH CULTURE

My daughters, when they were younger, were willing participants in Families with Children from China events. 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.

Did attending an adoption support group that emphasized Chinese birth culture make my family culturally competent? 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…

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.

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.

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…

I’ve discovered that celebrating our children’s birth culture isn’t just about immersion into another country’s past and present. 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.

In China, the New Year’s celebration focuses on relatives, and respect is paid to the spirits of a family’s ancestors:

“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.” (University of Victoria, BC, Canada)

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…

Gong Xi Fa Cai! Xin Nian Kuai Le!
Happy New Year!

Jean

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Copyright 2012, MacLeod, All Rights Reserved

Reaching Beyond Birth Culture was originally published in 2007 by Children's Hope Int'l

"Before You Were Asian"

“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.

“It’s a Kalaga,” I answered. “It’s from Thailand”

“It’s not Chinese?” Lily said in mild surprise.

“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.”

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.

“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?”

I nodded, catching her eye and pondering her perspective.

“Yes. Before I was Asian. Before you and your sister got here.”

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.

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. 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.

Jean
www.AdoptionToolbox.com

The ADOPTION TOOLBOX Perfect Puzzle Give-Away

A Perfect Puzzle Give-Away...
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!

Simple Give-Away Rules
1) Sign up to follow Jean MacLeod's Adoption Toolbox BLOG at
http://adoptiontoolbox.blogspot.com/

and / or

2) Join Jean MacLeod's new Adoption Toolbox FACEBOOK page by clicking on the FACEBOOK Badge at: http://adoptiontoolbox.blogspot.com/ (on the right).
***Be sure to click the green 'Sign Up" box once on Facebook

--If you join BOTH the blog and the Facebook page, you will have TWO chances to win the books (shipping is free).
--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.

The Books:

AT HOME IN THIS WORLD (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":
"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..."

PIECES OF ME, WHO DO I WANT TO BE? (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":

1. Gathering the Pieces
2. Stolen Pieces
3. Fitting the Pieces
4. Sharing the Pieces
5. Where do These Pieces Go?

So...

What's NOT puzzling?
Free books for your kids, online connection and great parent-to-parent resources...perfect!

Jean MacLeod
www.AdoptionToolbox.com


CLICK ON
iWrite: Tween and Teens Write about Life and Adoption
A Walk in JURASSIC PARK
Middle Aged Moms & Family Fun

A WISH NOTE HOLIDAY!

A favorite family replay from 2004...

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.
"I need to send Aunt Jennifer a Thank You note for the purse she gave me" Molly said.

"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 Wish Note."

"What exactly is a Wish Note?" I asked, with eyebrows raised.
"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.

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 2010...

merry merry,

Jean
www.AdoptionToolbox.com

iWrite: tweens & teens write about life and adoption

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!

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 Mei Magazine. I told tween / teen readers-

"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 your life, a vital piece of who you are, and you get to…

OWN IT.

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 your feelings and your perceptions about an earlier time in your life are yours to keep, think about and especially, to express."

Last night, I read the chapter excerpt from the new EMK Press book for teens, "Pieces of Me" 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.

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.

Jean
www.AdoptionToolbox.com

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Our New Baby

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... ohh it was grim!

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 MHS 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.
Yep, I was his.
Welcome, Tobi!

Jean
www.AdoptionToolbox.com

Loves Kids...and Mice

I had a cat once that made me crazy and saved my sanity...

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. I couldn’t control what happened to her.

I went quietly nuts.

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.

“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.”

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.

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 duties 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.

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.

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.

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:

"Is okay with crazy; loves kids and mice."

=^..^=

XOX

Jean
www.AdoptionToolbox.com

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