this woman’s work

Julia and I were talking homeschooling the other day (a big discussion/gentle debate) and she said, I like to think gently, that maybe I liked being the odd parent out and this had something to do with our homeschooling choice. You know, that much of my identity comes from going against the grain.

I’ve been thinking on this. It’s a charge I’ve had leveled at me before especially when I was a disgruntled teen with bad punk rock hair and questionable taste in clothes. It’s true that when I was a teenager that I reveled in my weirdness but that’s just it — I didn’t like to be weird; I was weird. And when I was a teen and grappling with my identity, I wanted to be very in people’s faces about it as teens will be.

So see, it’s not that my identity is wrapped up in being weird like a status symbol; it’s that I am who I am and I’ve learned to be proud of it as opposed to defensive and worried about it. Am I proud of being a homeschooler? Sure. I’m proud that we’re living out our values even though homeschooling has added to our challenges as a family (financially for the most part) and I don’t need that celebrated although it would be nice to have it accepted instead of questioned.

Back to being weird and how it relates to our homeschooling choices. I was an odd kid and pretty early on I figured it out as odd kids will do. It seemed like I usually wanted to do things differently than my friends or had interests that they didn’t share. I’m fortunate that I wasn’t the kind of kid who got harassed much and I’m sure part of this is that my mom (and I think my dad) like me an awful lot and told me so. What made me weird, I learned early on, was also what made me special so I never wanted to pretend to be something I wasn’t.

I think when it comes to intrinsic weirdness having confidence is what saves you from getting harassed. Also as introverted as I am (and this introversion certainly contributed both to my weirdness and my school misery), I do like people and my social skills were always good. You know, “plays well with others” and stuff like that. I’ve always had close knit friends and generally get along with people and my unhappiness with the social world at school had to do with the way I saw it and experienced it and not with how I was treated.

There are two bullies that stand-out in memory — one being some random kid in Chicago who used to follow me home from school and wash my face in the snow. I don’t know how it started or how it ended but I remember the feeling of trying to get across the wide open field between the school and our house during the blizzard of ‘78. The snow was too deep for me to get across quickly, so I’d struggle huffing and puffing and praying he didn’t catch me. The other bully was in middle school, one Eric Bielke who was a big, dumb, mean guy and who had it in for me for reasons I still don’t understand. He’d wait for the Home Ec teacher to leave and then threaten to strangle me. But mostly I had my friends and things were fine as long as I was comfortable with feeling awkward, which I learned to be. Which is to say, again, that my misery wasn’t social misery.

Some weird kids, they have charisma and can wear their weirdness to the top of the pack (my first boyfriend, Joaquin, was one of these). But the rest of us have to make some choices:

• Pretend to be normal as best you can and hope it sticks (it never does).
• Be weird and say screw ‘em.

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Julia made me read the Tipping Point (remember she bought it for me because I was so lazy about reserving it at the library) in part because she wanted me to see that the many many many small things I was doing would actually come together at some point and also because she wanted me to see that I’m a connector.

I love to fix people up, it’s true. I like to introduce people who might like each other or might need to help each other. It’s not all altruistic. Because I’m introverted, I don’t have the energy to keep up with everyone I’d like to keep up with (I also don’t have the time) but if I consolidate my friendships/acquaintanceships, then my friends can help me keep up with each other! Like if I introduce Person X to Person Y and they hit it off, then either of them can let me know how the other one is doing, keep me in the loop, etc. and I won’t feel so guilty that I haven’t seen one or the other in awhile.

I like to throw parties and invite my most disparate friends, too, because I’m a great believer in making mutts out of playgroups. It’s wonderful to have time with only the like-minded folks but it’s invigorating to throw a whole new perspective into the mix now and then. Suddenly you find out that you’re like-minded group has a pocket of people with an interest you didn’t know about. And wham-o, bam-o — you’ve got another interconnected friendship going on.

It’s the part of networking that I like. I’m not so hot at the large group meet-ups (although I’m getting better) but I do like meeting new people and figuring out who I know that maybe they’d like to meet. And when they hit it off? I feel like Madison does when she puts the whole Thomas the Tank Engine floor puzzle together and then dances around the room with satisfaction.

I may not really be a people person but I am a person who likes people and it’s fun to see people I like hit it off.

Edited to add: Rereading the post I linked to above makes me realize how far I’ve come just since March, which inspires me to think how far I’ll go likely by NEXT March. Listen, oh ye introverts among us, if I can do this anyone can.

I just had a happy playdate with 3/4 of the Turn Sharp family. If you read her blog you can tell that she is not an introvert, which made me think of this important coping mechanism.

One of the stresses I have as an introvert is a social anxiety that gets hung up on “Oh I can’t believe I said that! I am such an idiot! I should just go stick my head in a bucket and end my miserable life!” (Introverts are sometimes over-dramatic.) But here’s the thing: Other people don’t tend to notice what idiots we are.

Extroverts don’t notice because extroverts (I believe) are pretty forgiving. Lots of extroverts like people in general so they’re already predisposed to like you. They enter social situations happy to be there and to be socializing. They don’t have all that free-floating anxiety. They don’t fret beforehand about all the ways it might go wrong. So there’s a lot of give in socializing with an extrovert.

Other introverts are so anxious themselves that they’re not going to focus on your screw-ups (they’re too worried about their own). I had a meet-up with a clear introvert a few weeks ago and I could tell that anything I said/did was filtering through their defense system anyway so it seemed like a lot of the pressure was off me.

That’s kind of my point in my last post. It’s not that introversion is all in my head (I know I’m hard-wired that way) but a lot of the way it plays out is all in my head. My internal pep talks before social events are usually about this — that no one likes cold networking; that the extroverts will talk to me if I give them an opening; that the introverts are just as (if not more) tense than I am. It’s telling myself: My feelings are true but my interpretation of the situation may not be true. I will probably always feel a little wrecked after social events but I can stop the anxiety before and after by recognizing my wrecked feelings as feelings — not manifestations of disaster.

The other thing I’ve been thinking about is that a lot of this is skill and we can learn skills. I met two guys who both have this incredible ability to remember people’s names and details about their lives. I asked them both how they do it and they both said: HARD WORK. One of them said he actually took a class to learn the techniques. I was a little bummed out because I was hoping they would say, “Oh I was just born this way!” thereby letting me off the hook for not being able to remember anybody’s name ever.

If socializing well is a skill, I can get better at it. It’s like how special ed teachers work with kids who have a learning disability. They don’t try to cure the disability; they try to help students learn how to cope with that disability. Or how people will work with children who have autism to recognize other indicators of emotion since they have trouble recognizing facial expressions and tone. So I think, this may not come easy to me but it can come easier. The more I push myself, the more I can build coping mechanisms and eventually I won’t be as held back by this twitching left eyelid I’ve got going on.

Until then, it’s the chocolate and caffeine. Hey — these things take time.

Because Julia decided I was worth $10.46 (the cost of the book plus shipping), I’m reading The Tipping Point and loving it even though I’m years late to the party. (Soc major interested in marketing and social relationships, yeah it’s my kind of book.)

Julia wanted me to read it because sometimes it feels like I’m spinning my wheels — doing lots of little things to try to get myself to the next place career-wise in both my marketing career (i.e., $$$) and my artistic career (i.e., bigger opportunities). She wanted me to see that every little thing you do makes a difference and any of those little things could take my career(s) past the tipping point.

I am loving this book. And I’m also trying to see how the things I’m bringing to the table help me and what I can do to help myself more.

I keep running up against my introversion. See, I think I might be a connector because I know a lot of people (although a lot of you are virtual; I’m just building my in real life rolodex) and I love to fix people up. I mean I LOVE it. I love helping my friends become friends with my other friends; I love helping people find someone who can answer their questions; I love saying, “I know who can help you with that” and then handing them an email/phone number. BUT these things also totally deplete me.

I know so much of getting along in the world is attitude but I also know that when I’m depleted I feel sad and hopeless. Given that I need alone time to recharge and given that I need MORE alone time if I’m spending time around people and given that I don’t get a lot of alone time because I have kids (being with Brett, as I’ve said, is as comforting as being alone), I want to figure out other ways to self-care. (Right now I’m relying way too much on caffeine and Cadbury eggs, which is not doing myself any favors, lemme tell you.)

I’m trying to do more self-talk like, “It’s ok. It’s not that bad. Breathe in, breathe out.” I’m trying to actively wrench my depleted mind around to feel less overwhelmed. I’m trying not to fret over the Cadbury eggs and caffeine too much. I mean, yes, exercise is good and eating well is good and getting enough sleep is good but at the heart of it is my introverted self trying not to just get by but actually to THRIVE in an extroverted world. I want the things I want — success, a good income, more opportunity — and giving in to my weaknesses isn’t going to get them for me. I want to be an active participant in my success instead of just waiting around for the marketing equivalent of Prince Charming.

I had a second interview today for the job I interviewed for last week and I have a playdate this afternoon, then homeschool fair tonight, then Power of the Pen judging tomorrow, then volunteering for the Purim carnival on Sunday, then taking Madison to a raucous play-center birthday party for one of Pennie’s friends Sunday night not to mention lots of work and leaving for Portland at the end of next week and the whole thing makes me want to cry. But I also want to do these things (even though my left eyelid won’t stop twitching). I want to be able to do those things without going insane, which means figuring out how not to go insane when my whole BEING rebels against this much action.

The only thing I can compare it to is how some people loathe public speaking. (Ironically I like public speaking, which seems strange I know but I’m better with a role to play so I’d rather be a featured speaker than be milling around at a dinner party where I don’t know anyone.) That hyperventilating fear that some people have before public speaking is kinda what I have before almost anything that involves meeting new people UNLESS I have a role to play and even then it’s stressful. Now this has gotten better in the past year of aggressive networking. I don’t cry in my car as much before meetings anymore (rarely, actually) and I’m more willing to make dates with people I’ve never met. So that gives me hope that I can get better at this other stuff, too.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m hoping to put in all this time upfront so that I can retreat back into happy aloneness further down the line but I realize a girl has gotta earn her stripes before she has the privilege of happy aloneness, which is why I’m willing to do this stuff. But today — sitting here in my office basement with my left eyelid spasming like mad — I needed to bitch about it a little as a way to cheer myself on. Argh.

I guess I didn’t expect it because Noah — my clingy, shy, introverted child — never cried at preschool. But she does or at least she has the last two times. She’s skipping on her way in, chattering all the way but as soon as we actually get inside she tenses up and then begins to sob. I’m about absolutely convinced that this is adoption-related. Honestly — I don’t think she’d do this if she didn’t have a history of adoption. But then … so what? I mean, would I handle a crying child differently if that child wasn’t adopted? No, I’d handle it the same way.

This goes back to my philosophy that adoption is an added challenge but that our children are resilient, especially when we take their challenges seriously.

I do think Madison is ready for this particular challenge. I’ve known (and taught) other kids who weren’t ready to leave their parents and I think that’s a real thing and should be taken seriously and not just shrugged off as “typical for the age.” I mean, I don’t think every single parent should leave their crying 3-year old at preschool but I do think some of us should leave our crying 3-year olds at preschool. Of course the trick is figuring out if your kid is going to be best served by being left or not, right? And it’s harder to figure out when you’ve got teachers whose bias is one way or another (and a lot of teachers the bias is to just leave ‘em). You’ve got to know your kids and I know my kids.

So I left her yesterday and it was hard but not as hard as it would have been if I hadn’t felt leaving her was good. The thing is, I know that staying would give Madison the message that she’s right to feel so insecure so leaving felt ok. But I feel bad for her.

She has a good time at preschool and likes the kids (although between you and me it’s clear she feels superior to ‘em — that’s the big brother influence because she acts very worldly with her classmates) and she likes her teachers — she’d just like everything better if I’d stay.

My guess is that she’s worried about out-of-sight meaning out-of-mind. In the past when she gets left somewhere it’s always been with family (grandparents or my sister) and it’s usually been with Noah. When I think back to my own preschool days, I can remember having a gnawing feeling that my parents might forget that I was there and just move on with their lives. Now I never cried at preschool but I do remember having that feeling so I think maybe she has a feeling like that, too. So what I’ve been telling her is that I’m her mommy even when I’m not around and she’s my daughter even when I’m not around and that is forever and ever and that I always, always come back to get her because she’s my baby girl.

There’s this glaring part, though, which is that she is also someone else’s baby girl and that mommy went away and did not come back (in the same way) but that part of it runs pretty deep and I’m not sure how to address it without making things seem scarier. And then I wonder (and this is just a wonder but I wonder it) if her African American teacher reminds her in anyway of Jessica because they have the same build and they are the same height and her teacher wears her hair the way Jessica did and the way it is in a couple of the pictures we have up. Miss Lisa, her teacher, is a very calm, soft-speaking, maternal woman. And I can’t help it — I can’t help but wonder if that brings up specific feelings for Madison. That’s the trickier part of seeing adoption-related issues cropping up — there isn’t a great answer book where I can flip to the index and read about how to deal with it.

(I think I’m going to just ask her if she’s noticed that Miss Lisa looks like Jessica and then ask her what she thinks about that.)

Madison and I have also decided that we will find a picture of me and of Daddy and of Noah that she can bring with her and we’ve talked about having a very specific good-bye routine where I will come in, I will watch her put her picture up that says that Madison is in school and that we will check out the snack together. And then I will hug her and kiss her and then I will leave. And she might be sad and it’s ok to be sad — Miss Lisa and Miss Free are there to give her hugs — but that I will come back. I’ve told her it takes practice to get used to preschool but that I have faith in her and know that it will get easier and easier. And that I miss her while she’s gone, too, and that I stop sometimes and think about my Madison and feel a little sad but that I remind myself that I will see her soon when I come pick her up. (She was pleased and a little surprised to hear that I miss and think about her, too, but I think she also found it very comforting. That’s why I thought maybe she’s worried that I forget her when she’s not around.)

Anyway. I wanted to write this down — that Madison cries at preschool and that I think it’s adoption legacy.

(Also I’ve told Miss Lisa — out of Madison’s hearing — that our adoption training said that separating anxiety was a specific issue for adoptees since both the teachers were surprised by Madison’s reaction given her out-going personality. And then in front of Madison I told them about the routine Madison and I decided on and then Miss Lisa and I talked about how the teachers are there to give hugs and sympathy but we talked about this to each other very official-like instead of ganging up to convert Madison herself, you know? Because I always hated it when my mom would unite with the teachers to talk me into doing something I didn’t want to do but if she could get me on her side and then inform the teachers like it was my idea — even if it wasn’t — I was more likely to go along with it. Madison listened hard but looked doubtful.)

I know I was curious about press trips before I took one (I’ve only taken two) and I’m no expert but I can tell you how these two press trips worked in case you’re curious, too.

For one, journalists usually can only get press trips if they have a record of placing articles or if they have an assignment. Some press trips are scheduled and journalists are invited whether they have stories or not the same way a writer might get a written press release. An actual travel writer could point you in the direction of getting on those lists but I do know some folks subscribe to notices like MediaKitty.com. Then they get information about available press trips and if they’re qualified, they can try to go on them or else they can go to their editor and say they’d like to be sent there.

Now a lot of press trips are comped (when everything is free) but a lot aren’t — it depends. For travel reviews it’s not really kosher to get a free trip because you’re getting special treatment and you can’t really give an accurate review when you’re first in line and everyone’s on their best behavior. But other travel stories (like this one) it’s kosher because my assignment was to get to know the places so I can give some basic info. Like, for example, if a particular attraction was safe for a toddler or was better geared to a teen. You can get some of that info by calling up the people or reading their web site but a lot of the details are easier to get in person.

For this assignment I had a list of places to go with instructions to write on several but not necessarily all but I did end up seeing all but (I think) one. This is a testimony to the hard work of the visitor’s bureau rep who tried very hard to give all their many attractions equal time. (She was so great — thank you notes will be going out as I write the assignment because everyone was wonderful.)

On this press trip most of it was comped. We paid for some meals and our travel costs but the admission prices, a couple of lunches and hotels were paid for by either the PR/marketing people in charge of the attraction or by the visitor’s bureaus in the areas we were seeing. Now that sounds like a lot of fun (and it was) but it’s definitely work. Noah would start whining about the hectic scheduling and we’d have to remind him that this was how we were earning the vacation.

Our itinerary was insane. (Even the people we met for the tours commented on this!) so, for example, on Friday (our first day) we drove into town and to our first attraction at 11am, got a tour; our second attraction at noon, got a tour; met the visitor’s bureau representative for lunch; got another tour at another attraction at 2:30pm; another one at 3:15pm; a massive tour at a resort at 4:30pm (happily the kids and Brett were off the hook and played in the water park during this part) then dinner on our own; then at 7:30pm another tour and finally to our hotel (and a quick introduction to its amenities by 8:30pm only because we cut the last tour short. Then we started the next day with a boat ride at 9am.

I had planned on leaving the kids at some of the stops on the way to hang out while I hit attractions but it didn’t work out that way since we were so on the move, which means that they had to sit through a lot of lectures. Noah’s at the right age so he mostly enjoyed it (he was only dragging towards the end) but Madison, of course, had a rough time. I think it’s pretty unusual to bring your whole dang family on a press trip but the editor said it was ok and the people who helped pull it together said it was fine, too. I was very grateful for the patience of the guides and also for Brett’s willingness to silently remove Madison when appropriate.

In any case, we were at the mercy of the scheduling because some of the people had opened up their shops and things just for us and we didn’t want to keep them waiting. It was definitely interesting and I certainly got all the info I need (and more — I want to think about some other ways to pitch some of it) and as hard as the scheduling is I loved getting the inside scoop about things. But I wouldn’t want to be a travel writer as a career even without kids. As much fun as the occasional press trip might be, I think I’m just too introverted to do it on a regular basis. But I loved having this opportunity. There’s a whole lot of Ohio I didn’t know anything about.

Since a couple of people mentioned that they hadn’t realized Noah is homeschooled, I thought I’d give a quick rundown about it. (I always forget that readership changes — in a few years people will write in saying, “Wait a second — Madison’s adopted?”)

This is my homeschool journey. (Brett’s homeschool journey was easier because it was more or less like this, “I’m kinda into this whole homeschool thing but since the bulk of the responsibility will be on the at-home parent, I’ll leave the decision to you.”)

• Noah is born. I am entranced. I can’t imagine leaving him for a millisecond let alone sending him far, far away to a whole different building! I am determined to homeschool — also being heavily influenced by Mothering magazine and my own miserable school years.
• Noah becomes a toddler and I am as adamant about homeschooling as only a mother with absolutely no experience parenting an actual schoolage child can be. Truthfully, I have no idea what I’m talking about. I lecture bored audiences at length about the death of the American school system. I am insufferable.
• Noah becomes preschool-aged and goes to actual preschool. His natural introvert tendencies (not shy, just introverted) become more and more clear. He loves preschool but is absolutely wrung out by being around so many kids for a whopping 2.5 hours a day three days a week. Meanwhile, I begin trying to conceive another child, visions of crunchy maternity in my head. I will homeschool. I will nurse this next child for decades. I will bake bread.
• Second baby doesn’t show up. I start thinking about getting my masters degree. Or a job. Or running away to Vegas. I start thinking about kindergarten. I began to feel oppressed by my adamant homeschool friends. I quit reading Mothering.
• Kindergarten readiness meeting makes clear Noah is not kindergarten ready. His teachers feel that it’s not the academics — it’s the stress of classroom socializing. I begin to feel trapped. I feel doomed to spend the rest of my life around women with slings and no fertility issues. I start to explore my options.
• Options: Send Noah to full-day kindergarten at the magnet school of choice even though I’m sure it means certain disaster; look at private schools we can’t afford and become deeply depressed; settle for our then-neighborhood school, which was absolutely unmitigated crap; try homeschooling for a year and then reassess. We go for the latter.
• Turns out we love homeschooling once we realize (and embrace) Noah’s need to unschool. Go back to my “down with public school” roots and begin to pontificate again. Hang joyfully with other homeschoolers. Feel I have found the secret to happy parenting. Pity everyone else.
• One by one the most adamant homeschoolers I know drop into school. Their children do not seem to be destroyed by evil school system and standardized tests. Noah still blossoming. Begin to modify stance — homeschooling rocks for us and school rocks for other people. All is good. Dawn begins to lighten up. (About homeschooling — continues her rigidity in other areas of her life much to her mother’s dismay.)

That’s kinda where we are now. I love homeschooling — it works really well for Noah. It’s been hard on our family in some ways — loss of income being the biggie — but as long as I’m home with a toddler-now-preschooler, I may as well be home with the enormous 10-year old. Plus the enormous 10-year old is useful to keep toddler-now-preschooler out of my hair. Noah’s homeschooling makes the little things — like showering — possible, god bless him!

We plan on trying a virtual school next year. We use a math curriculum now (Math-U-See, which out of the three we’ve tried — Miquon and Singapore being the other two — seems to work best for Noah) but otherwise, he is on his own. From what I can tell looking at his friends’ skills/abilities, he’s on track. (I did test him for reading and he tests way ahead of his grade level.) We’re thinking about the virtual school for a couple of reasons: One, that we think he’d like it because he really likes having “homework” in math and Hebrew; two, if he does want to go to school in high school, we’d like him to have an idea of what that means. (If he gets out there. He has absolutely no interest in ever going to school EVER.)

There’s a huge homeschooling community in Columbus and Noah takes several regular classes and then some extras here and there. Most of his friends aren’t homeschooled so most of his pure socialization happens outside the homeschool community. He does a weekly book discussion group, which he loves. And a gym class and a self-defense class (on hiatus right now). He does occasional camps and things but he doesn’t like being out and about much — takes after his mother that way.

Will Madison homeschool? I hope so. If you read in the archives, you can see me write passionately about why I hope this but I also know that I haven’t met school-age Madison yet and I don’t know what will work for her. Part of me thinks she will be an awesome homeschooler because she’s so passionate and excited. But she’s also much more social than Noah is and she may really want to go to school. (I think we’d be able to meet her social needs at home but I don’t know if we’ll be able to meet her social wants.)

And that’s my quick and dirty homeschool entry.

Since that seems like a popular topic! (And thank you so much for the questions because now I’m all revived. I’m like the guy in Caps
for Sale; I am “refreshed and rested”!)

Ok, back to homeschooling. When I first had Noah I was all about homeschooling with all of the passion of a new mother who has not yet become a parent to an actual school-ager. This passion I had for homeschooling was because I couldn’t imagine him out of my sight at all and that I wanted to protect him from the evil, cruel world. Then he hit three and I most definitely did NOT want to homeschool him. I remember talking to a friend of mine about it because all of the other women in that playgroup were totally going to homeschool and I was crazy against it and I felt like I was being this terrible mother that I didn’t want to do it. (Irony alert — of that playgroup I am the only one homeschooling. Yeah. Life is funny like that and let that be a warning to those of us who make proclamations.)
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I started an entry that was looking at some nitty-gritty hard stuff about the psychological mess of being Mother to Madison but I deleted it because I’m still much too raw to talk about it just yet. Suffice to say that it’s been a tough two years. Madison’s high needs personality coupled with her fierce independence have been a challenge for me, being prone to mindfucking primal wound theory anyway.

One day when I’m not so raw I’ll write about it but not today.

Anyway what I wanted to say is that somehow I’m honeymooning with Madison these days. Sure she can still drive me crazy but we’ve turned some corner where I feel much more relaxed in all of this. I don’t know what it is and frankly I’m afraid to look too closely at it.

We have been revisiting preschool as an idea for fall. I have mixed feelings about it. I think 2.5 is awfully young for preschool but Madison seems so ready. I also haven’t found the perfect school for her and so will have to settle. I’ve been reluctant to even look around much and now it’s so late in the year that I know some of the schools I would like are already filled. (Procrastination can be a great decision-by-passivity maker.)

We’ve had our loving hecklers lately who have been teasing us about getting Madison (and us) hooked on school and how she’s going to end up at the elementary school across the way. Can I tell you? I fervently hope they’re not right. It would be a grave disappointment to me but I wouldn’t keep a miserable Madison at home either.

Homeschooling is a funny thing. It takes a lot of effort to wrench your family off a beaten path especially when people you like and admire have made such different choices. It’s easy for me to second-guess myself and Brett and I periodically go, “Is this working? How can we tell? Is it a mistake?”

Noah in many ways is easy as pie being that he’s self-motivated and has zero interest in school. “I would be exhausted by spending that much time with other kids,” he says, knowing his own self awfully well at nine. Madison, on the other hand, loves to run around in a crowd.

And you know, her adoration of a busy social life is actually — to me — a big motivator to keep her home. It’s not like school is a day full of chattering fun with friends and even this introverted mother would have no trouble hooking her up with daily activities all week with other kids. (In this town, at least, homeschoolers who want it can get more free or structured time with friends than their schooled-peers rendering that whole “socialization” question moot.)

For chattering, happy Madison I think (I hope) that homeschooling will be just as good as it has been for introverted Noah for different reasons. Noah needs that quiet space away from kids and lots of time to think and play by himself. Madison is overjoyed to play with other kids, which would get her in trouble, I’m sure, in a regulated school day. Seeing as how I don’t much value being able to sit and follow directions, I don’t much care for dampening her social spirit.

It’s been hard lately though. My friends who were committed homeschoolers for a time have mostly sent their kids to school for admirable, thoughtful, loving reasons. I miss them. Because some of them have done so reluctantly or still have some worries/fears about their decision, it feels like homeschooling has to be a very careful topic. In other words, we just don’t talk about it. And so the subtle pressure that every homeschooler gets (along with the crushing pressure) to consider school has increased in my life a bit. That’s been a challenge for me. I miss my friends. I miss their kids. I miss the support I had ready-made.

That’s been on my mind a lot lately.

–>

This is to KrisAnne (her comment is to the entry before this one):

See now, (per your original comment) I KNOW that Madison will have her own take on things and from my perspective, being more open now will better serve her later because she will have more options. If she already has some sort of relationship in place with the maternal side of her birth family, it’ll be a lot easier to figure out how she wants to handle that. Now her birth dad has chosen NOT to be involved and so I feel like I can compare how that feels with how this feels and I’m still going with hip hip hooray, we’re so glad Jessica is here.

I didn’t say that Kim/OnTheFence (or anyone) should have a “happy-dappy” relationship with their child’s other mom (whether they are on the adoptive side or the birth side of things). I’m not really clear where it sounds like I’m saying that. I was defending our open adoption from Kim/OnTheFence’s presumption that she knows more about how our adoption might play out than I do, “I too, think that the relationship Dawn has with Madison’s birthmother is all new. It is real, and it is true for right now. Key words are ‘right now.’” (source)

Really, to me this is kinda like someone looking wryly at a new bride and saying, “Sure, your marriage seems real and true but it’s all new. My husband cheated on me, I know many women whose husbands have cheated on them and your husband may be faithful right now but the key words are “right now.”

Let me be clear — celebrating the way Madison’s adoption is playing out does not mean that I am disparaging anyone who’s adoption is playing out differently.

KrisAnne asked (in part — her whole comment is to the entry before this one):

She sounds so stable that it’s puzzling as to why she wouldn’t give parenting a try. Yet she is able to stay in Madison’s life and be similar to a co-parent. I think your story will be an interesting one to follow over the years. This is an off topic curiosity question: at this point, do you feel that your bond with your biological child is different than your bond with your adopted child? That is one of those age old questions that people always wonder about and I’d like to hear your perspective.

Now to the part of your comment quoted above:

1. I said this in my essay — I won’t get into why Jessica chose Madison to place with us. I can only quote her, “It’s what I needed to do.” Questioning her decision because she seems too “together” to choose adoption comes, I feel, dangerously close to wallowing in stereotypes. She chose it because it was her choice. Period.

2. Jessica is not a co-parent. She’s not here enough to be a co-parent. See, to me parent is a verb description. It’s the doing. It’s the wiping noses, giving baths and cooking breakfast. But Mother means a whole lot of other things. She is absolutely Madison’s mother. But this is terminology and other people might have a different definition of mother and parent, etc.

3. I’m sure our story will be interesting. Whose isn’t? I can’t think of a person out there without an interesting story worth hearing.

4. Is my bond with my two kids different? Yes, for a lot of reasons. It’s tempting to always point to the adoption but these kids have a lot of differences. One’s a boy, one’s a girl. One had a 27-year old new mother, the other had a 34-year old new mother. One had a nervous first-time mom, the other had a more jaded second-time mom. One is introverted and was intensely needy, the other is an exuberant extrovert who was fiercely independent from the get-go. One was all about mommy mommy mommy, the other fell in love with daddy early on and still looks at him with big moony brown eyes.

The intensity of my love for them is the same. My gratitude for them both is the same. I would throw my life down for either of them. And they are both my absolute favorite in totally different ways.