Passwords

Just a note to say that I password-protected all the “Becoming Roo’s Mama” posts. I’ll explain later.

For now, if you’d like the password, please email me at anelephantsgestation@hotmail.com and, if I don’t already know you, please tell me just a little about who you are and why you’re interested.

I know I don’t need to tell you that this is for my kid’s privacy. Thanks for taking this seriously.

Yada yada yada

So many meaty posts in my head, but not nearly enough sleep to organize them coherently. So for now…

Roo has a wicked case of thrush. We’ve run up one wall and down the other trying to figure out how he has thrush when we’ve been just beyond compulsive about sterilizing, etc. etc. etc., but there you have it. His whole tongue and the inside of his lips are all white, and he smells like old milk. I miss that baby breath. Luckily, I don’t have it, but if anyone has any tips for how to breastfeed without getting it and then sharing it back and forth with him, PLEASE don’t hold back with the advice (and really, it’s advice, not assvice).

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Happy new year to my fellow Hebes in blogland! We spent Saturday in the true Jewish tradition - we went to synagogue and then stuffed our faces with the machitunem.* One of the things that always feels like home to me when I go to synagogue is looking around and seeing that almost everyone there has either hair like mine or a big Jewfro. It feels like family. And Roo, though in the minority with his mocha skin, is in good company in that congregation - there are so many transracial families (adopted and bio) there that he doesn’t even stand out. It’s one of the things I really love about the congregation.

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My wife can go from pajamas with food all over her face to showered and spiffy and waiting at the door in under 15 minutes, while I, who started 45 minutes before her, run around the house having a clothing crisis. Six years into our relationship, I still get hysterical about how long she waits to start getting ready and nag her incessantly about not being late. This is not one of my finer qualities. Will I ever learn to relax about it?

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First post-placement visit tonight. This social worker knows about our moving violations, our last 8 million jobs, and the balance of every bank account we have, and still saw fit to place a baby with us, and what am I worried about? The curry I’m making tonight. Because clearly if I spice it poorly, she’ll deem us unfit parents.

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Two more weeks until I go back to work. I can’t think of anything more articulate to say about this than NO NO NO NO NO PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GO PLEASE NO!

Any words of wisdom from you working parents out there?

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* If you’re not Jewish and you can leave me the definition of machitunem in the comments without looking it up, you win… a neeeewwww car!

Protected: A rough start just got smoother

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Protected: Becoming Roo’s Mama (part the last)

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My kid is a rock star

Roo got his feet wet in political work today - primary election day. The kid really was a star.

I went to make phone calls for a candidate who just happens to be the social worker who helped us get Roo (Rock Star, not Ms. Brusue). He hung out in the magic carrier. He looked around. He made little sounds. He was admired by other volunteers. He wore a button with the campaign logo on it. He napped. He ate, and then went right back into the carrier without a peep in order to work off his food coma. When he was done, he lay on a pile of t-shirts with the candidate’s name on them and cooed and smiled at everyone who walked by. He did this for FOUR HOURS while I made phone calls. And then he let me run an errand on the way home.

When we got home, he cried for about 12 seconds, sucked down a few ounces, and nestled right in for another nap, his hand holding onto the collar of my shirt. And he woke up smiling. That is some cuteness. Some stinkin’ cuteness.

I feel like a real mama today.

I don’t know if I could love this kid any more.

My new obsession

And now for something totally different…

My new favorite show is Gray’s Anatomy (yes, I’m very late on this bandwagon). Tonight I watched the two-part season finale and I have a huge problem - how can I wait until Thursday to know what happened?

I should have waited until the series was over so I could have gobbled it all up at once on DVD, like I did with Sex and the City and Six Feet Under.

I don’t think I can sleep tonight.

Protected: Becoming Roo’s Mama (part 7)

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Protected: Becoming Roo’s Mama (part 6)

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Whose information is it, anyway?

I was at a party this weekend with a handful of new queer parents. Some of the babies were adopted, some were conceived with donor sperm (purchased frozen I think in every case rather than obtained warm from a known donor).
At some point the conversation turned to the issue of sharing information about birth parents and sperm donors with people other than our children. Some felt that that our kids should be the first to have this information, so other people shouldn’t know much about the circumstances of the adoption/conception/birth until our children are old enough to hear it themselves.

One person made the point that it’s rare for a child to be the holder of that information, since much of it is general knowledge already when a child is parented by two biological parents.

Some people are taking a modified approach, sharing some carefully selected information but holding back other information. Others are sharing information freely to make sure they don’t inadvertently send the message that there is anything to be ashamed of.

And of course the issues aren’t identical for adopted children and children born via donor sperm.

Anyway, it made me really curious to hear more perspectives. If you are a birth parent who has contact with your child, an adoptive parent, a parent whose child was conceived via donor sperm or any other less-than-straightforward way, how do you handle it? If you’re not yet a parent but you think about these issues in your own future, what’s your take on it?

I’m purposely not sharing where we are on this in this post because I really want to hear different perspectives, but if people are interested I’ll talk about it in a near-future post.

Quiet, please

Memo

To: Our families

Re: Calling our house in the mornings

Though it may seem that people with a very small child would be up at any hour, we would appreciate it if you could not call at the crack of dawn.

While chances are excellent that we will be awake at any hour of the day or night, please keep in mind that we also try to sleep any chance we get. These chances do not come often.

Thanks for your consideration.

P.S. The crack of dawn is anything earlier than 9 am.