My adoption story AKA: "We aint in Kansas anymore Toto"
My name is Loujean Stauffer AKA Babygirlmona.
My non- identifying information was quite informative as it allowed me to see where I acquired most of my traits. I got my brown hair, hazel eyes, and olive complexion from my Mom and my height from my Dad. She was 6’1” tall & slender.
She loved to sew, read true crime novels, and work on intricate puzzles. All of which have been something I did often. She also claimed to prefer her animals company to humans. When I read that, I almost fell out of my chair, I had lost count on how my times I had said the same.
When I learned that I had an older brother, age 8 and a sister, age 6, I was overjoyed but for some reason, not surprised at all.
On the other hand, my AP were shocked and surprised by that revelation. It seems that when I was young, about 3-4 yrs old I told anyone who would listen that I had a big brother and sister but they didn’t live with me. I even used to beg my grandmother to help me find them. Since I was an only xhild she assumed I was just lonely.
My AP, having no knowledge of the truth had punished me for telling lies but their punishments had failed. I continued to repeat it for many years. This knowledge validated my claim. To this day I have no idea how I knew about my siblings as I had been only 3 weeks old when I was placed for adoption.
My AM and I never really bonded over the years. I was anything but her ideal daughter. I was her complete opposite. Where she was a real “girlie girl” I was a “Tom-boy”. She would dress me in frills and lace with my hair in curls only to find me outside rolling in the grass playing marbles or digging to
Later as a teenager, she bought me makeup and tried to teach me how to apply it. I saved it for Halloween and went dressed as a Vampire. She spent hundreds of dollars on clothes for me, clothes she had picked out for me. Only for me to insist that, blue jeans and T-shirts were what I would wear.
My Grandparents had a motorcycle shop and I since I spent my summers there I spent my days around at the shop. They gave me a tiny 50cc Indian dirt bike to play within the empty lot next door to the shop when I was 5. It even had training wheels on it, for about an hour.
Following what I had seen at the motor cross matches attended with my grandfather I had learned, on my own to ride that thing along obstacles I set up for myself. He was impressed and taught me to run the track. MY AM damn near fainted and had a all out “Hissy fit”, visions of the “Hells Angels” running through her mind. My gear and new 120cc dirt bike were history and I started going to Girl Scout Camp during the summers after that.