Walking into Home Depot, we saw a Hispanic woman with a brown baby in the basket.
"Mommy, that's not her baby," Rowan announced.
"What? Why isn't that her baby?" I asked.
"Because she's white and her baby's black."
Whoa! Where did that come from? And really baby that woman was definitely not white, but I won't get into that discussion with my four-year-old now. Nor will I engage her in a discussion about Latinos being all the colors of the rainbow.
"Where did you learn that?" I asked.
"From Mrs. Wilson," Rowan answered easily.
A discussion with Mrs. Wilson will be happening tomorrow to see what the real conversation was.
"From Mrs. Wilson?" I questioned.
Rowan nodded her head. "White women have white babies and black women have black babies."
"They do?"
She nodded again and repeated her sentence.
I wondered where she thinks biracial children, like herself come from, or where Irish twin came from. Oh the irony.
Monday, June 27, 2011
My baby
As we walked around Home Depot looking for the perfect lights for the house, I carried the baby in my arms. She was knocked out and in REM sleep because she allowed me to cradle her. A semi-conscious Layla would protest that with all her sleepy might. As I cradled her, I looked into her dirty face that she assured me she had washed. Maybe she did, a quarter of her forehead looked clean.
Cradling her, I thought about the baby of yesteryear whom I cradled. The one who didn't have scratches from fingernails that Mommy had let grown too long. The one who didn't have bangs that looked in need of cutting or who didn't have bangs or much hair at all. The one who wasn't rocking her thirteenth pair of earring or who in fact didn't have her ears pierced at all. The one who didn't have scratches and scrapes on her legs from running, jumping, and getting into places or things she shouldn't be or who couldn't even walk at all. The one who didn't sleep with her mouth slightly open so her upper two teeth can be seen or who didn't even have any teeth at all.
As I rocked my sleeping baby in my arms, I thought about the baby I said, "I love you" to in Hanoi and realized that love paled in comparison to the love I feel now to this baby and that this love I feel in this moment will pale in comparison to the love I will feel a year from now.
Cradling her, I thought about the baby of yesteryear whom I cradled. The one who didn't have scratches from fingernails that Mommy had let grown too long. The one who didn't have bangs that looked in need of cutting or who didn't have bangs or much hair at all. The one who wasn't rocking her thirteenth pair of earring or who in fact didn't have her ears pierced at all. The one who didn't have scratches and scrapes on her legs from running, jumping, and getting into places or things she shouldn't be or who couldn't even walk at all. The one who didn't sleep with her mouth slightly open so her upper two teeth can be seen or who didn't even have any teeth at all.
As I rocked my sleeping baby in my arms, I thought about the baby I said, "I love you" to in Hanoi and realized that love paled in comparison to the love I feel now to this baby and that this love I feel in this moment will pale in comparison to the love I will feel a year from now.
Our annual June picnic
Every June, Child SHARE has a picnic near the LA Zoo. This year, we went and I left the double stroller at home. I think we might be growing up. As I turned into the church parking lot, Jory remembered coming the year before. He remembered the firemen who left him speechless, the large but contained open spaces. He was ready to go. Upon seeing the bouncer, the baby and Rowan were raring to go.
We walked safely across the parking lot and the first stop was the bouncer. I stood near the mesh because sometimes the baby can be a bit overwhelmed, particularly when Rowan and Jory take off to parts unknown and leave her by herself, but today wasn't that day. She bounced and bounced and bounced with her Irish twin, and she continued bouncing happily after Rowan left her to explore parts unknown. Then she noticed there was more and she ventured out, out to the wall that required holding onto the rope and climbing up and over or in Jory's case running and jumping high enough in the bouncer to almost make it over the wall, though he did fall the first few tries and reminded me of that show Wipeout. With Jory's third and successful jump landing him in the next part of the bouncy maze, Layla grabbed the rope and started to climb. I wasn't sure if she would be able to do it. She neared the top and it seemed iffy, so I gave her tush a little boost and up and over she went. The next time around she handled the rope, like it was no big deal, and got herself over the wall and through the rest of the maze like no big whoop.
After the thrill of the bouncer temporarily waned it was off to explore other areas, until the face painting was discovered. And not only could they get their faces painted, but they could choose which animal they wanted painted on. TTT were in heaven. Rowan, I'll be honest, scared me a little when she wanted more and more animals on her. I wondered, is she going to be my tattoo girl because tats are whack. But I figured, she was only four and having fun and I wouldn't make a big deal of it. I let her have her fun.
The kids petted animals, including a snake. I tried to stay away from that so I wouldn't know what icky creatures they had touch, but I made sure everyone washed their hands. We had a delicious lunch, hung out with good friends, decorated cookies, then went back to the world of the bouncer. Does a party get better than face painting and a bouncer?
A good time was had by TTT and it was a great way to kick off the first weekend with true summer weather.
We walked safely across the parking lot and the first stop was the bouncer. I stood near the mesh because sometimes the baby can be a bit overwhelmed, particularly when Rowan and Jory take off to parts unknown and leave her by herself, but today wasn't that day. She bounced and bounced and bounced with her Irish twin, and she continued bouncing happily after Rowan left her to explore parts unknown. Then she noticed there was more and she ventured out, out to the wall that required holding onto the rope and climbing up and over or in Jory's case running and jumping high enough in the bouncer to almost make it over the wall, though he did fall the first few tries and reminded me of that show Wipeout. With Jory's third and successful jump landing him in the next part of the bouncy maze, Layla grabbed the rope and started to climb. I wasn't sure if she would be able to do it. She neared the top and it seemed iffy, so I gave her tush a little boost and up and over she went. The next time around she handled the rope, like it was no big deal, and got herself over the wall and through the rest of the maze like no big whoop.
After the thrill of the bouncer temporarily waned it was off to explore other areas, until the face painting was discovered. And not only could they get their faces painted, but they could choose which animal they wanted painted on. TTT were in heaven. Rowan, I'll be honest, scared me a little when she wanted more and more animals on her. I wondered, is she going to be my tattoo girl because tats are whack. But I figured, she was only four and having fun and I wouldn't make a big deal of it. I let her have her fun.
The kids petted animals, including a snake. I tried to stay away from that so I wouldn't know what icky creatures they had touch, but I made sure everyone washed their hands. We had a delicious lunch, hung out with good friends, decorated cookies, then went back to the world of the bouncer. Does a party get better than face painting and a bouncer?
A good time was had by TTT and it was a great way to kick off the first weekend with true summer weather.
What does or something mean?
After Jory's graduation, Layla and I were waiting to be called for my appointment when the following transpired.
A woman leaned over to me and asked, "Is she your daughter?"
"Yes," I responded, as we watched Layla play with the other children.
"Is her father Asian or something?" the woman continued.
Okay, stop. What is the "or something"? What two ethnicities produce an Asian child? Is it somehow politically incorrect to say Layla is Asian or to call her Asian? But back to the convo.
"Yes, her father is Asian," I answered.
"She really took after him," the woman concluded, continuing to look at Layla.
I'm done. Next time this is how the conversation will go...
"Is that your daughter?" I will be asked.
"Yes," I will answer.
"Is she Asian or something?"
To which I will answer either, "No, she's Eskimo/Mongolian," or "Or something."
And when it's said, "She must look like her father."
Once again depending on my mood I will answer, "Yes, she's created in His image" or "Really, because minus her lack of melanin people tell me we have the same eyes and ears all the time." Now what? Huh, what you gonna say now?
A woman leaned over to me and asked, "Is she your daughter?"
"Yes," I responded, as we watched Layla play with the other children.
"Is her father Asian or something?" the woman continued.
Okay, stop. What is the "or something"? What two ethnicities produce an Asian child? Is it somehow politically incorrect to say Layla is Asian or to call her Asian? But back to the convo.
"Yes, her father is Asian," I answered.
"She really took after him," the woman concluded, continuing to look at Layla.
I'm done. Next time this is how the conversation will go...
"Is that your daughter?" I will be asked.
"Yes," I will answer.
"Is she Asian or something?"
To which I will answer either, "No, she's Eskimo/Mongolian," or "Or something."
And when it's said, "She must look like her father."
Once again depending on my mood I will answer, "Yes, she's created in His image" or "Really, because minus her lack of melanin people tell me we have the same eyes and ears all the time." Now what? Huh, what you gonna say now?
Thursday, June 23, 2011
It's amazing...
Oma is home and people are actually getting dressed. They aren't acting crazy like Oma is home and we have no idea how to do anything, which is their usual mode of operand um.
This is simple amazing. I should videotape this and save it for prosperity. To show them on the days, they go back to acting like Oma is here and we've never heard of something called a morning routine.
This is simple amazing. I should videotape this and save it for prosperity. To show them on the days, they go back to acting like Oma is here and we've never heard of something called a morning routine.
My name...
My name is Jory. I am six-years-old and I am graduating from kindergarten.
When I grow up I want to be an airplane pilot. I want to go to college to learn how to fly airplanes.
I like to see the flaps on the wings move when the airplane lands. I like when the airplane takes off over the ocean.
I would like to fly the plane for President Barack Obama. It is called Air Force One. The End.
That is the brilliant speech the valedictorian of the kindergarten class gave. This kid is a genius. I am madly in love with him. I am so glad all that six-year-old deliciousness is mine.
Every day the sun comes up around him
He can make the birds sing harmony.
Every drop of rain is glad it found him
Heaven must have made him just for me
When he smiles so warm and tender,
A sight for sore eyes to see.
Oooh,
Ain't no son like the one I've got
Oh, no, they don't come better
To make him happy doesn't take a lot
He don't ask for things (except for trains, cars, buses, and planes), no diamond rings
So together, like a hand in glove
Like pages in a letter
Ain't no son like the one I love
When I grow up I want to be an airplane pilot. I want to go to college to learn how to fly airplanes.
I like to see the flaps on the wings move when the airplane lands. I like when the airplane takes off over the ocean.
I would like to fly the plane for President Barack Obama. It is called Air Force One. The End.
That is the brilliant speech the valedictorian of the kindergarten class gave. This kid is a genius. I am madly in love with him. I am so glad all that six-year-old deliciousness is mine.
Every day the sun comes up around him
He can make the birds sing harmony.
Every drop of rain is glad it found him
Heaven must have made him just for me
When he smiles so warm and tender,
A sight for sore eyes to see.
Oooh,
Ain't no son like the one I've got
Oh, no, they don't come better
To make him happy doesn't take a lot
He don't ask for things (except for trains, cars, buses, and planes), no diamond rings
So together, like a hand in glove
Like pages in a letter
Ain't no son like the one I love
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