SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU- My Adoption Story

Let me start off by saying I have a feeling we are a "Special Case". We got really lucky and are very blessed. (knock on wood)
The parents I have talked to have very different stories and like people, Adoption Stories vary. But here is ours:

I have said before I have always been a late bloomer. I am a procrastinator, my fashion can be so behind the times I am the one who brings it BACK. So it was no shocker to me that I got married later in life and decided at 40ish to have a baby (at least try)
Well if you wanna talk more about THAT road to fertility you can read my post Fertility at 40 Foes and Frauds at mytoddlersmom.blogspot.com


Since my Old School eggs where not up to the challenge we decided to think about adopting. And just start doing a little research on it.

Where to start?
We knew we wanted a baby, a new born. We wanted to raise our baby from scratch. We also wanted our baby to be able to identify with each of us. We are an interracial couple. My husband is Italian and I am Black so we wanted a mixed race baby. I thought this would be a challenge. We don't live in a small conservative town with "Footloose" type family values. We live in New York City, Brooklyn, Prospect Heights and our neighbors looked like this:

 

 

 

We would fit right in. The problem was that it looks like everyone had the same criteria. And we were just starting so we were not desperate yet and too self centered to take whatever was "available".

 

Well, we didn't even have to look that hard because our prayers came calling via my cousin Tonya. She is a foster parent for teen girls and a former foster kid resurfaced in her North Virginia neighborhood, 4 months pregnant with a 10 month old already hanging on her hip. She didn't have a job, her housing situation went from permanent to temporary and she was not even considering keeping her unborn child. She also was not considering terminating the pregnancy. I admired this young 20 year old for sticking to her convictions. She knew what she wanted in life but lacked the skill, knowledge and means to get there. She needed help. And so did we.

 

We met and I instantly knew. I felt a bond, not with this young mother but I felt a bond with her unborn child.

OKAY.... I know. Now's its getting all "HIPPIE-DIPPY" but that is the only way I can explain how I felt.

 



And She (Tummy Mummy*) understood because she had the opposite feeling. She felt no connection with the baby she was carrying. She loved it to the extent that she wanted the best for it because she created it but the connection wasn't there.

This is where things started to get scary because I was hooked. This was MY baby.
Tummy Mummy* and I spent the next 5 months together. I took her to all her Dr. appointments and I talked my cousin into moving her into her home for the duration of her pregnancy.                  TONYA = ANGEL
We got a lawyer, we did a home study, we got reference letters from friends and family to vouch for us. This was getting REAL! Oh yeah... and a baby was coming too.

And I was this baby's mommy.
At least in MY mind I was.
But I wasn't, not in anyone else's mind and there was a strong possibility that I never would be.

1 out of 3 Birth Mother's change their minds ( I have no idea if this is a true statistic. I think I might have heard  Barbara Walter's say it on 20/20)

60% of adoptions don't go through for a number of different reasons (I totally grabbed this number out of nowhere so don't quote me BUT you get  my point that it's a risky business)

I was beyond invested into this adoption to the point where I was feeling like she was my surrogate. But she wasn't. She was her own woman(child) with her own woman(child) mind.

We quickly started bumping heads. I tried to tread lightly but she was carrying my child inside her and well, you can imagine that a 40y old woman and a 20y old woman(child) have different views one what one should and shouldn't do while pregnant.
We are both very strong willed and both very opinionated. (clearly)

There were a couple of times where my husband (bless him) had to talk me down. I was ready to call it quits. "Call it off! I'm done with this woman(child)!"

"This is nothing, compared to what she is probably going through".

"She is giving up her child to strangers she hopes, believes and prays will give her the incredible life she could never give herself. She's probably just as afraid of the 'what ifs' as you are ".

It's important to have someone that can remind you of what really matters and to talk you down off the ledge.

Like I said we are a "Special Case". Our Tummy Mummy* did not back out of the adoption. She did not take advantage of us nor did she try and use, abuse or mislead us. We did not go through an agency and did not have extensive lawyers involved. The biological father signed quickly and easily and made it clear that he was not interested in being involved.

THE DELIVERY

The delivery was a quick one. Now I obviously have never gone through labor but when our Tummy Mummy* called me at around 10am and said she thinks her water broke and then again at 3pm saying, "She's here." To me, that's quick.

When she called, I had only been back in NYC (my home town) a couple of days to collect my things. I had planed on returning to North VA that afternoon (2 weeks before the due date) when I got the call. We had barely made it out of Jersey when our daughter came bursting into the world. Literally, bursting. She ripped the placenta and shot out like a cannon. She was ready. Whether we were or not. And were we? Not really. I always wondered if there was some kind of pregnancy hormone that prepares you for after your child is born. Or is it just instinct that kicks in. Well, lucky and unlucky for me I had neither. Our daughter (still technically Tummy Mummy*s daughter) had some trouble once she arrived. Platelet trouble. Turned out to be NOT too serious and was under control (relatively) quickly with no long term damage. But at the time it was VERY serious and VERY scary. She spent the first 10 days in the NICU. And that is where I received my MOMMY training. I got to learn how to feed, change diapers, sponge bathe, burp and hold my baby by the Best. My husband and I even got a private baby CPR class from the head instructor. And the best part is I left my bundle of baby joy with them at night and I got to go home and sleep 8 hrs. I don't wish anyone's baby to have to be NICU bound for any amount of time but if they are... a curse could turn into a blessing.

Our Tummy Mummy*s involvement post adoption is minimal. She never wavered. She is (to my knowledge) happy with her decision.

And you know what NeenieSays.... So are We!!

*Tummy Mummy is the term we use when explaining to our daughter that she is adopted. I think its a cute and accurate way to start the conversation to a small child as they start to learn and understand where babies come from. She will be raised knowing she is adopted from birth. There are many wonderful children's books on the subject and even though we could get away with "pretending" my husband and I both believe we are who we are and our Story makes us so.

...and Don't Forget To Tip Your Bartender

It's the biggest debate between the Service Industry and the Salary Makers, the Tippers and the Stiffers, the Jacks and the Jack-Offs.

I learned about tipping from my parents. When ever we traveled my parents would give $1/ bag to the baggage handler and $5/day to the maids in the hotel. This was in the 70's and 80's and I'm sure my dad groaned and moaned about it every time because he was the cheapest man in the world. But they still did it.
Tipping at restaurants and bars was an automatic... so much I can't recall hearing my parents talk about it, it's  just what you did. And like I said, Dad was a very frugal man.

When I started my bartending career I assumed everyone grew up the same way I did. I remember as a teenager going out with friends and when the check came there were a few that we had to shake upside down by their feet to get enough for tax and tip but for the most part (as a whole) we were good about tipping.

A lot of people are personally offended with the idea of having to tip.

I have traveled outside the United States and have witnessed first hand the difference between the Service Industry in the States and the Service Industry abroad. :Let's speak particularly about Europe and the United Kingdom (some Brits have said they are not a part of Europe so I want to make sure they know I am including them in this)

There is a difference in the way service is administered THERE as opposed to HERE.

 HERE- sometimes it's about getting a good tip, or a high commission or just meeting your set goal, and THERE - more often than not, it is more of having a product available for you to purchase but with a "take it or leave it" attitude.

Maybe in America we value different things. We are very money, job, and career driven. But what ever the case we are HERE and HERE we are on the tipping system.

Let me try and break it down for you. Obviously I will be debating on the FOR tipping side not the NOT for tipping side. If you want to hear the other side you'll have to find another blog for that.

So basically, when you are a waiter or bartender or bar-back you do not get a normal salary. What you get is below minimum wage, minimum wage in NY is $7.25/hr What service employees receive is $5.00/hr. This wage is only to cover taxes and fees that are taken out of our check, so when we receive a check it is basically a tax receipt showing you how much THE GOVERNMENT has taken out for taxes and how much your EMPLOYER has taken out for meals( and sometimes uniforms or other expenses). Yes MEALS, you think we eat for free? (well we sneak food all the time) But we pay for our "staff meals" and at most restaurants they are nothing like what the customers are eating. They are made by a kitchen staff member with what ever is cheap and on it's last days of expiration.

 We get a check with a big VOID printed on the front.
 The reason being is that we work for tips, tips only. We pay taxes on tips whether we are receiving the tips or not. so when you Don't tip, that tip is already being declared to the Tax Man.

Keep this in mind, the next time you stiff you waiter or bartender. At least you can't say you didn't know better. The next time you see someone not tipping you tell them, HEY!!! Leave a tip! and if they say "why" you tell them because ....

                                                   ..... NEENIESAYS!  

FREE TIP: ... if it's your birthday, Don't ask the bartender for a free drink. If you are there with friends they are the ones that should buy you a drink. The bartender doesn't even know you. But if you are nice, fun,  cool and having a good time the bartender will most likely buy you a drink without asking. (THAT IS...IF YOU ARE A TIPPER) 

NEWLYWEDS

     When are you no longer a newlywed? After 2 years? Maybe 3?  After your first fight?

I have been married now for a little over 2 years. I still very much feel "newly wed".  I am also still very excited by the idea of starting a new life together. We still have so many  more firsts to do together... the car, the house, the kid.

I can tell I am still in the "newly" stages because I am not completely comfortable with my last name yet. My husband is Italian and it's not too hard of a name but it never sounds right coming from my voice. When he and his family say it, it sounds sexy and exotic. When I say it I giggle inside my head because I think it's so cute.

(Take this time and say it out loud then say it in your head with an Italian accent... you giggled a bit didn't you?)

All of that being said, I wanna know a couple of things. I'm new to this whole "marriage- thing" so

What happens that turns us?     ... from one day to the next?


The WIFE instantly knows everything and only she knows where to find stuff (inside the home). The HUSBAND is a financial adviser with a compass built into his brain so he instantly knows directions to anywhere without having to look at a map, but can't find where the extra disposable razors are kept. (Really... it's as if he doesn't even live here)


Is this a game?
Is there some kind of rhythm we are creating that we will continue throughout our lives together?


I find it fascinating.


Do we become different people or is this just the "married" version of ourselves?


I don't wanna completely loose the ME that I know and am comfortable with, but I am a unit now. ( hee hee hee ... a unit. That sounds ridiculous but I'm sticking to it)

We work as a team to become successful, to achieve, to teach, to learn and I guess to WIN!

What I have learned in my short time in this "marriage-thing" is that there are a lot of prizes to win. I have won quite a few already and I am looking forwarded to winning more. But you can't do it alone. (I know... I've tried)

This is the Marriage in Training Series

Let's work it out, together, Dammit, NEENIESAYS

Hey. Does anyone know when Father's Day is?

I feel bad for Dads on Father's Day. It's doesn't even come close to getting the kind of press Mother's Day does. The commercials are fewer and never anything elaborate. Usually just a nondescript white dude playing catch with a nondescript kid, or of I am watching maybe a cable station they might have a black guy shooting hoops with his black sons. Or something worse.

Mother's Day commercials start months in advance and are tearful and beautiful.

                             (I almost cried after watching this one and I'm not even a mother)


I understand Mother's Day is a huge money making holiday so they wanna get as much out of you as possible. But Father's Day.... we could kind of take it or leave it.
Even when I had a father, I didn't give it too much thought.

My father left us when I was 19. He left both me and my mother. And I understood, at the time. Or at least I thought I understood. I didn't know how much his leaving was and would continue to affect me until much later.  I was 19. In my mind, I was "grown".

 I looked at my dad as practically a piece of furniture. He was part of the living room set. He was old fashion and set in his "old school" ways. He used to tell us, "Don't do as I do. Do as I say". What kind of back -ass, horrible parenting, B.S was that? His bark was bigger than his bite though. He was really just a pushover and was easily "pushed-over". I was a fast talker with a quick and sharp tongue and I had been told many times to "watch my tone", and I knew that meant I was treading on thin ice.

But I knew if I asked him something in a quick manner during the right time, he would agree to just about anything to get me to leave him alone. I mean, after all he was the "Man of the House" right?  What ever he says... goes.  He brought home his paycheck and handed it over to the "Warden".  I knew after the hundredth time he told me to "Go ask your mother", that he was NOT the one in charge.
 If we wanted to go anywhere, wanted to do anything, or needed money for something we asked Mommy. I understood how it worked. Daddy had made the mistake of giving permission to something he half listened to and had to hear about it later, when he found out the "Warden" had already said, "NO."  (that was how the "Go Ask Your Mother" - Bill was put into effect)

My father was a great guy. Everyone loved him. He was funny and fun. He was silly but cool. He made everyone feel comfortable to be around him. He was a straight up, "nice-guy". He wanted, like all dads, the best for his kids. He had two daughters so he also kept a eye out for the enemy (boyfriends).

But like I mentioned earlier he left us.
He didn't go out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back (he didn't smoke)
He didn't get drunk and beat us or go to jail. (he didn't drink)
He didn't fall in love with his secretary and run away with her and start a new family just to forget about his old one. (he didn't have a secretary)

He died.

But like I mentioned earlier I understood. It wasn't his fault. He got sick and he died. I was 19. I wasn't a kid, I was "grown". (Or so I thought)

I figured by 19 I had enough fatherly training, I mean what else could he tell me that I didn't already know? Plus, I still had my Mother and she ,pretty much, ran the show. (the Warden)
She can tell me about boys and men.
My girlfriends, we talk about guys all the time. We tell each other to be careful and not to trust them or not to give up the "goods" too soon.
We tell each other what we saw (or what we think we saw, same thing right?), or what we heard (at least what we heard someone else say that they might have heard).
And we know men! At least we say we do. How many times have you heard a woman say, "He's not a Man, at least not a Real Man"? I have heard it plenty of times. I have probably even said it a few times myself.

But just recently, my oldest and dearest male friend (I've known Raoul for 30 yrs) was visiting me and asked me this question:

        "How can a women say that someone is NOT a man or NOT a REAL man?"


  I didn't even hesitate. I listed all the reasons why I thought women had the right to define men.
(don't worry... i won't list them but if you pause for a second and just listen I bet you can hear me listing them off in your head)

Raoul's question stayed with me. And still does. I don't want to have to define a man. That's not my job or my place.
It doesn't matter if I am a single mother, or a widow, or girl without a father. I am a woman not a man and I can strive to be the most incredible woman possible but I can never be a man. (unless I go through the Chaz Bono transformation but that's a serious commitment and I'm just trying to make a point not a life change.... but you know what I mean)


So, I guess what I'm saying is... if you are like me and are missing an important male figure in your life, you don't have to, "Be" the man, just find the right man (or men. it takes a village, and that village if filled with women and men) that fits in the space. Don't force it. It should just easily slide right in. (that's what she said..... (sorry I couldn't stop myself)  )

I am dedicating this blog to ALL the men out there. The "real" ones and the rest. I am letting you off the hook. I will let you define yourselves.

I am reaching out and telling you that we NEED you!

I had a GREAT father for 19 years and it wasn't long enough. I will ALWAYS need a man in my life because...  apparently I'm not one.

Lucky for me I have quite a few AMAZING ones and I have even chosen one that I think will make the most INCREDIBLE father. (I already know he makes the most incredible husband)

Hey fellas, just know that you are needed and that you are so loved. Father's Day and every day!
and that's what....

NEENIE SAYS...

                                                         I Love You, Daddy!

Can I touch your hair?- my hair-story

THIS IS MY HAIR-STORY

     I think I got my first relaxer (hair straightening chemical treatment) before I could form a full sentence.
That was the norm, when I was a little girl, my mother was one of those kitchen beautician. She got her beautician license and worked in a neighborhood beauty shop but mostly did friends and family in our kitchen.

     After my mother washed my hair in the garage's big sink connected to the washer and dryer, she would put my hair in a million braids and send me outside to play. I grew up in San Diego where the weather is 70 degrees 80% of the year so it would dry pretty quick that way.

    But as it dried my braids got tighter and tighter till I had to run inside and beg her to loosen them. Once my age hit the double digits my pleads were not only for a loosening but a reduction in the number of braids sticking out of my head.
I don't know if being that, my mother was able to do our hair herself made it easier or worse. As I kid I always had it in braids unless it was a special occasion or holiday. Special occasions were the time for special hair do's. Easter was always a good one. Any holiday that coincided with Church Sundays always got a special Do.

Easter Sunday 1983

There were other personal special days like birthdays and graduation, and of course everyone's all time favorite was PICTURE DAY!

    Picture day was a nightmare, you never knew what was gonna come back 3 weeks after you took the photos.

But one year.... it happened. I was in the 6th grade and my mother did my hair for my school's picture day and she picked out a very nice "Little House on the Prairie" type dress. I sat for hours under the hair dryer and slept with my hair in rollers so my curls would be nice and tight for picture day. But 3 weeks later when the pictures came back THIS is what I looked like....

                 
     When my mother saw the photos she told me I looked like a "floozy". She called my grandmother, my aunts and uncles, the neighbors and her closets friend and talked about these photos for days. That when I knew that my hair had the "POWER" I didn't know how to use it til much later but my hair was "MAGICAL".

I must of been in high school the first time I was asked,
                       "Can I touch your hair?"


And, I'm sure it was nothing too crazy of a hair style. If I remember correctly it was probably one of those dry "Jheri Curls"  I wanted a "Jheri Curl" because it was the latest style but I couldn't stand all of that "jheri curl" juice dripping all over everything so I kept mine dry. So basically it was an "Afro" but an 80's version.
Everyone had one, I mean all the Black people did. At least the ones in San Diego. (Unfortunately a lot in San Diegans still do...)
My point being is that it didn't look so strange or bizarre where you would have to fight the urge to touch it. It looked like this:

Goodness! Braces AND a dry Jheri Curl.... I learned, right then, my personality and charm would have to take me a LONG way!

This was nothing new, nothing strange, nothing weird or complicated. I have seen plenty of non blacks with the same type of hair as me. Well, close....

 Maybe this Magical Hair is not a race thing but a simple 
hair thing.



I bet these guys were asked "Can I touch your hair?"




I guess the bottom line, like with most things, if you Got It ....



WORK IT!!!









  I always thought my hair was not so much as a "problem child" but more of a "difficult teen", just waiting to grow up and find it's true self. By the time I got to college I started getting a real sense of self and so did my hair. College and I weren't really compatible. We hung out together for a couple of years but I felt what I needed was "off campus". So, I took my magic hair and moved on, up and out.

                                       UN-BE-WEAVEABLE!!!!


It was the 90's and I had just discovered "the Weave". One of my girlfriends had one and I LOVED it on her. It was a deep Auburn color and she was a fair skinned very pretty black girl. (Shout out to you Deidre) At this time it was definitely a "Black Girl" thing. Non-Black women were only wearing wigs and hair pieces and mostly for stage performances or film. I remember it hurt like HELL but ooh it looked so good, once I got the hang of it. I had to tame the beast a bit first. It started off very big and wild and Chaka /Diana - like which worked for many occasions but my favorite was more of the straight Demi/Courtney Cox-like look.

You can barely tell us apart! 

    

   I always wondered how I could go to work with hair that barely grazed my shoulders and the next day have hair down my back and no one noticed. I was lucky because my best friend was a hair stylist (Shout out to my BFF Natalie) and she was good but  come on ... 

I knew the Black and Latina girls at Lerner's Clothing Store noticed but back then it was considered impolite to mention such things. It was rude to ask, "Is that your hair?" , "Are those your boobs?" "Did you get a nose job?" I still think it's a bit rude to ask someone such personal things but times have changed and people have no shame. There was a un -spoken code of silence as far as the "weave" went. At least among us Black Girls. We would never admit we were wearing a weave.... if asked. Now if someone in the "sista-hood" came up and said, "I love your hair, where do you get it done?" Then if you were cool, you would tell them and that would open the private conversation of "Weavology or Weavism". 

My magic hair made men wild. Men, I believe, are just as obsessed by our hair as we are. It's the whole picture, the whole fantasy. My first weave I had a boyfriend so he was in on the secret but how do you manage the physicality of a relationship when "weavin it"? 

       Hey... What's that in your hair? Why's it so lumpy?

  I took my weave to as far and back as I could. We traveled the world together. It wasn't easy finding products in other countries. Overseas weave maintenance is very difficult, let me tell you.

 My hair had become her own person almost. Certain styles gave me certain personality. It was part of my costume. My hair gave me the courage, the guts, and the confidence to be who ever I wanted to be that day.

        ..... if Weaves could talk!!

                              My hair grew up with me....

      Once Britney and Paris started getting BAD WEAVES I knew it was time to move on, up and out. 

There came a time when we started to grow apart. Me and my weaves weren't seeing eye to eye. She still wanted to be CRAZY, YOUNG, and sometimes IRRESPONSIBLE. 

We parted ways and I let her go. I wanted some sophistication in my life. I needed a change. I wanted to be taken a little more serious so I stripped it off to see who was behind the curtain.

  I don't know if many people realize it or not but short hair is ... A LOT OF WORK. I had to keep my relaxer updated on a regular.  Not to mention, my kitchen (if you don't know what a kitchen is watch the Grey's Anatomy Season 8 episode 16. Bailey tells Derek to do his baby's hair ) my kitchen needed a touch -up weekly.

 

I don't think I was quite ready to take on such responsibility and sophistication that comes with short and sassy. She wasn't enough fun for me. Plus I needed to shake things up for myself.  I missed the "wild side" of myself. Time to do something drastic and dramatic. Just when you think you know me.....    Time to keep it real....    Time to go .....

                                                                 NATURAL

Going natural I thought was gonna be huge. I thought it was gonna be some big REVOLUTION. But I just stopped relaxing it and let the naps lay were they lie.  Apparently I had already been in this hair 14 years earlier. No wonder it felt so comfortable.

  

1999

1985

 I have been relaxing my hair almost as long as I have had hair.  So I was excited to literally get back to my roots. It's always a bit of a transition to go between hair styles. Nothing is worse than mid hair style but sometimes you gotta make it work.

But once I fully became one with my natural haired self I was unstoppable. We fit together like a hand in glove. I loved my natural locks. I loved changing my hair styles weekly sometimes daily. 

 When your roots grow out with natural hair you can rock it like a rock star. 

   I don't know who wore it first and you can decide who wore it better.

I definitely have a love affair with my hair but the truth is, it's just hair. It comes and goes. You can dye it or buy it. The magic is not whats on top of your head but what's in it. With a head full of weaves or shiny and bald I am and will always be MAGICAL... (this gentleman in the photo below me was just too Gorgeous not to include so I did)And YES you can touch my hair, at least that's what .....

                                  NEENIE SAYS