Identity issues blog entries



Barbie, as advertised in Adoptionland

Not too long ago I discovered a sales-pitch found only in Adoptionland, and I openly admit, I find this pitch incredibly offensive, for reasons I will gladly explain later, if asked.  For now, I wish to re-showcase the marketing tool used by a hotel in China and the toy company, Mattel.  There is an exclusive give-away given only to adopters who choose to adopt from and stay in China.  What's the "free" give-away?  A white Barbie Doll, named,

The not-so-despicable-parent in me.

I was watching a movie with my twins today.  Readers need to understand, when it comes to spending time with my older kids, I struggle.  Parenting/mommy-ing was much easier when my annoying, demanding heathens were newborns, or at the very least, much much younger, when their very simple basic needs, were very simple, basic, and easy. 

<longing for for the long-gone 'easy' days... because the looks on their faces told me I was/am a good decent parent> coupled with <tired, frustrated, annoyed and really stressed-out sigh>

The Adoptee's Family Tree

Recently my oldest (in highschool) had to create a family-tree for a history project.

As a parent, I thought these school-craft projects were limited to the first early years.  Alas, I was wrong.

My daughter has a good sick sense of humour, but when it comes to family identity issues, she gets a bit serious and sensitive.

I tried to help her as best I could, explaining, "It's best to do only Daddy's side of the family.  You can explain your family-tree starts with me because I was adopted."

That is how she created her project....

An eye-opening look at the power of an AP

Times sure have changed....

Embracing the inner-loser I call "Me"

For decades I have been trying to "find myself", and as I am just weeks before the 40th anniversary of my entrance into this world,  I think I am finally able to comfortably assign a word that best describes and defines all that has become of me.  My roles and names have been many.   I have been daughter, I have been student, I have been nurse, employee, wife and mother.  I have been annoying little sister and anti-social neighbor.  I have been drunk I have been whore, I have been the cause and reason behind a suddenly shut door.  

When does it pay to be a "good girl"?

I grew-up in a very old-world traditional family, where "good girls" don't behave in a way that would bring shame or embarrassment to the family name.

Oddly enough, I was birthed by a woman who, according to my amother, had no morals. It seems the only decent thing my mother did was not have an abortion.

To make me whole

To make me whole
I need to know
From where I came
What made me so?

Something is missing
It’s not in my mind
A life times search
My core to find

I knew I was different
Not like the rest
As a growing child

Pound Pup Legacy