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My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

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On the first day {2nd, 4th, 6th….6th!}

8.26.13

first day1

The crickets are chirping outside. I can hear a neighbor laughing with friends and the jingle of a dog leash while someone is out for a night walk. It sounds just like a summer night only a few days ago except that it is quiet in my home. Tuckered out after a long day, everyone’s in bed sleeping peacefully except for the grownups (who stay up way too late).

The first day of 2nd grade, 4th grade, and 6th grade…the latter of which means the first day of middle school. My eldest has officially entered the world of drama, insecurity, girls who cry openly and boys who pretend they don’t at all, popularity contests, puberty (ick), and lockers (which we are led to believe are more important than the sum of the rest based solely on the amount of time spent discussing them with both children and parents alike).

first day2

As much as I denied it up until the last minute, he had to go. At orientation last week, we sat in the auditorium with a room full of giggly nervous tweeners and their equally nervous mothers (myself among them). They called homeroom teachers’ names and told the incoming 6th graders to follow them out to go to their classrooms and, of course, try their lockers. Evan looked at me in utter seriousness and asked, “You’re leaving me?” I answered the only way I knew how, “No, Evan, you’re leaving me.” And, that was that. Off he went.

As we were putting him to bed as we still do last night, I brought up a book we hadn’t read in a while—the book I made for him right before he started kindergarten. Based on Max Lucado’s Just In Case You Ever Wonder, I made a sort of lifebook for him with pictures from his babyhood right on up to the old age of 5, personalizing the words for him with the encouragement we felt he needed before he “left us” on that big yellow school bus for kindergarten.

Just as he did as he was 5, he sat beside me and I read every word, slowly flipping the pages and laughing as we recalled together his preschool Olympics and when he fell in love with a stray cat who made our back door his home and silly pictures taken on Christmas morning. Mark leaned over my shoulder to see the pictures too, and I kept reading with a lump in my throat.

Long, long ago, God made a decision –  a very important decision – one that we’re really glad He made. He made the decision to make you, Evan. . . .

as you grow and change, some things will always stay the same. We will always love you. We will always be on your side, just in case you ever wonder.

Remember we are here for you. If you feel sad or frustrated, you can talk to us.

If you feel a little nervous and you feel funny in your tummy, you can talk to us.

If you just don’t feel like being yourself, you can talk to us. . . .

You are such a great big brother. And, God has given you a heart that is sensitive and loving. We think you are going to love kindergarten, just like you loved preschool. But, on days that you don’t, you can talk to us because we love you, and we always will, just in case you ever wonder.

And, know that even if you are lonely or sad or feeling bad, God is with you.

He loves you even more than we do, which is hard to even imagine.

Remember that you are never alone, and you are always loved. . . just in case you ever wonder.

And, then we prayed and kissed him goodnight, shut his blinds for him, made sure his clothes were laid out, and we left, leaving the door open a crack as we always do.

And, today, he went to middle school. Just like that.

lifebook

p.s. he got his locker open on the 2nd try and every try after that. [happy sigh]

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: why can't they just stay little forever

Disclosure Within Reason {Adoption and Back to School}

8.24.13

There are backpacks lined up in my dining room today. When backpacks are hanging on chair backs with zippers bulging with supplies and tissue boxes, even they look excited about a new year.

Lydia doesn’t start kindergarten until next year. But, she’s joining me two mornings a week at a women’s Bible study. And, based on our experience last year, I’m wondering how proactive I should be this fall with the new set of ladies about to experience our daughter in a classroom setting.

With children who were adopted but are the same shade as you, you have the option of sharing nothing adoption related with teachers. Those of my friends who choose this option tell me it’s better that way—teachers can have stereotypes and let their knowledge of the child being adopted affect how they view and treat the child or there’s no need to stand out and it’s private and none of their business anyway.

When we walk in that classroom for the first time (putting aside the way Lydia bounces into a room), we do pretty much stand out. One look at her + one look at me = adoption and whatever preconceptions or feelings may come with that.

I’ve decided to take the route of what I call disclosure within reason. Lydia always will deal with questions regarding race and adoption and her story. A teacher who knows nothing except that Lydia doesn’t look like the lady she calls Mom (aka me) will be less prepared to handle those situations the way I’d want him or her to handle them.

Disclosure within reason means sharing:

  • that Lydia was born in China,
  • that she was adopted as a toddler, and
  • that we do not know or have a relationship with her birth family.

Disclosure within reason does not mean sharing:

  • what we know about her finding,
  • what her life may or may not have been before we brought her home, or
  • how she or we feel about the information we have or don’t have about her history and/or birth family.

Disclosure within reason may include a few words about adoption in general or China in general. But, that’s it. As tempting as it may be to share more about how God built our family, I’m going to guard my words and in so doing guard her heart. After all, her story is not mine to tell. And, I’m going to teach her to guard it well. There’s plenty of time to talk more about the practicals, patterns of behavior and responses and strategies and all the whys behind them. And, based on all we’ve been seeing around here lately [insert sigh here], we may have to have that conversation sooner rather than later. But, for now, disclosure within reason, that’s it, shared casually and comfortably along with all the other important information that needs to be shared (e.g., said daughter loves goldfish and jumping from high places).

child in tree

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: adoption, Living as a multiracial family, Lydia

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