Showing posts with label adoptive parent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adoptive parent. Show all posts
March 15, 2018
March 02, 2018
You on a Crack Pipe
I get up early every Thanksgiving morning. No, not to cook. To run a 2.5 mile Turkey Trot with you. Regardless of the snow, the holiday, and the fact that I am no kind of runner, I rouse you (sleepy, regretful you), stuff power bars in my sleeves, smile, cheer, and act like there's nothing I'd rather be doing.
I shiver in long lines for my turn at a smelly port-a-potty and prick my freezing fingers on our race bib pins. And even though you sand bag me every year and kick it on the final stretch like a terrified gazelle, I know I'll do it again next year and the year after that and the year after that. Because I never want to find you on the end of a crack pipe.
I've sorted, collated, and stapled nearly 10,000 pages of Scholastic Books fliers. I have convincingly feigned interest in My Little Pony, Star Trek, Minecraft, and Logan Paul. No one can tell I'm fake laughing at those not-at-all funny "Try Not to Laugh" videos you love. I've smeared enough peanut butter and sunflower seeds on enough pine cones to feed all the birds in all the world for the next 50 years. I once wore a hand painted macaroni and yarn necklace to a job interview because you made it for me. And homemade Slime. Yeah...
You asked me to join Kuk Sool Won (Korean martial art) with you, so I parked my pride on the shelf and became an adult newbie in a class of 8 year-old black belts who could take my head off if they wanted to. The only one in class with a bursitic shoulder and a torn up knee. The only one with hips, whose dobok fits snugly across their butt. Because I never want to find you on the end of a crack pipe.
I have researched whether or not jelly fish have eyes (they do), elephants can jump (they can't), and if the outer shell of a jelly bean is made from the same stuff as the inner bean (it's not). I have filled entire spreadsheets with detailed cost-benefit comparisons of different Nerf guns.
I've lost sleep over finding black pants for your school concerts - black pants that aren't denim, aren't leggings, aren't a polyester-elastic-waistband reject from the Grandma factory, and don't look like something your father or an LPGA pro would wear to work. Because I never want to find you on the end of a crack pipe.
I have solemnly dug graves for road kill frogs. Examined rabbit poop under a microscope. Pureed bushels of leaves for baby caterpillars. Tracked slime trails along the kitchen cabinets to find the snails you liberated from the fish tank. (Speaking of fish, I once spent a guilt-ridden week babysitting a few hundred newly hatched goldfish the size of eyelashes and flushing them one ladle full at a time as they fell victim to my inability.)
All this I've done of my own free will. I invest myself in you because I'm your mom and I love you. And you don't owe me anything in return. Regardless of how much you love me and no matter how close we are, most of the decisions you make in your life will be made with your interests in mind, not mine. I knew that going in.
What I mean by all this is I hope I've given enough. I hope you know you belong. I hope you've felt my strength and cultivated your own. I hope you see how much you matter. I hope you realize that the collective existence would be diminished without you in it. I hope I've shown you how to create enough of what's beautiful and true that you never fall for less. I hope you understand that you have within you everything you need.
Being your mother is an honor and a joy that takes my breath away. And I never want to find you on the end of a crack pipe.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
I shiver in long lines for my turn at a smelly port-a-potty and prick my freezing fingers on our race bib pins. And even though you sand bag me every year and kick it on the final stretch like a terrified gazelle, I know I'll do it again next year and the year after that and the year after that. Because I never want to find you on the end of a crack pipe.
I've sorted, collated, and stapled nearly 10,000 pages of Scholastic Books fliers. I have convincingly feigned interest in My Little Pony, Star Trek, Minecraft, and Logan Paul. No one can tell I'm fake laughing at those not-at-all funny "Try Not to Laugh" videos you love. I've smeared enough peanut butter and sunflower seeds on enough pine cones to feed all the birds in all the world for the next 50 years. I once wore a hand painted macaroni and yarn necklace to a job interview because you made it for me. And homemade Slime. Yeah...
You asked me to join Kuk Sool Won (Korean martial art) with you, so I parked my pride on the shelf and became an adult newbie in a class of 8 year-old black belts who could take my head off if they wanted to. The only one in class with a bursitic shoulder and a torn up knee. The only one with hips, whose dobok fits snugly across their butt. Because I never want to find you on the end of a crack pipe.
I have researched whether or not jelly fish have eyes (they do), elephants can jump (they can't), and if the outer shell of a jelly bean is made from the same stuff as the inner bean (it's not). I have filled entire spreadsheets with detailed cost-benefit comparisons of different Nerf guns.
I've lost sleep over finding black pants for your school concerts - black pants that aren't denim, aren't leggings, aren't a polyester-elastic-waistband reject from the Grandma factory, and don't look like something your father or an LPGA pro would wear to work. Because I never want to find you on the end of a crack pipe.
I have solemnly dug graves for road kill frogs. Examined rabbit poop under a microscope. Pureed bushels of leaves for baby caterpillars. Tracked slime trails along the kitchen cabinets to find the snails you liberated from the fish tank. (Speaking of fish, I once spent a guilt-ridden week babysitting a few hundred newly hatched goldfish the size of eyelashes and flushing them one ladle full at a time as they fell victim to my inability.)
All this I've done of my own free will. I invest myself in you because I'm your mom and I love you. And you don't owe me anything in return. Regardless of how much you love me and no matter how close we are, most of the decisions you make in your life will be made with your interests in mind, not mine. I knew that going in.
What I mean by all this is I hope I've given enough. I hope you know you belong. I hope you've felt my strength and cultivated your own. I hope you see how much you matter. I hope you realize that the collective existence would be diminished without you in it. I hope I've shown you how to create enough of what's beautiful and true that you never fall for less. I hope you understand that you have within you everything you need.
Being your mother is an honor and a joy that takes my breath away. And I never want to find you on the end of a crack pipe.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
February 28, 2018
Salt of the Earth
Hey, Mom?
Yes?
Wanna know my favorite thing about playing on the dirt pile?
Sure, Pal.
When I'm in the dirt, nothing's complicated. I just dig and think.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Yes?
Wanna know my favorite thing about playing on the dirt pile?
Sure, Pal.
When I'm in the dirt, nothing's complicated. I just dig and think.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
February 27, 2018
I'm Just Not That Into Me
For most of my life I've had a casual attitude toward my appearance (ginormous understatement). I wear makeup very occasionally and shoes only for school functions and church. My kids have had friends since preschool who still don't recognize me without my pajamas.
My skin care routine is simple. If there's something on my face, I wipe it off with whatever's handy. Good to go.
I'm still not sure why, but I recently gave into an impulse and bought a full suite of skin care products. When I first saw the pristine jars nestled in their organic packing material, I thought, "Yeah! I should pamper myself a little bit. This will be nice." Then I looked at the directions.
1. Wash face and pat dry.
2. Using a circular motion, apply Deep Renewal Serum to entire face. Allow to absorb completely (15 minutes).
3. With a light touch, apply Instant Effects around eyes. Allow to absorb completely (15 minutes).
4. Using gentle upward sweeps, apply Neck Renewal to neck. Allow to absorb completely (15 minutes).
5. Apply Refresh and Radiate to entire face. Allow to absorb completely (15 minutes).
6. For best results repeat twice daily.
For real? The absorption time alone adds up to an hour-long gig, and I'm supposed to do it twice a day? Yeah, right. But since the money was spent I decided to give it a whirl.
Well, it's been 10 days, and I've done the whole routine only 9 times. I've missed e-l-e-v-e-n times!
The 15 minutes between steps is tough to manage. I'm rarely available 15 minutes after the last time I was available. I apply something and then I get on a conference call or drive a kiddo somewhere or work on a client project and by the time I remember my next application, half the day is gone, which makes the "twice daily" element a real challenge. I've had to set my alarm for 3 different times in the night to get all my potions on.
I don't dig having stuff on my face. Knowing it's on there makes me itch, and if I scratch my cheek I don't know if I should reapply the last potion to that section or just wait for the next one. I don't want to go through all these shenanigans and be left with one cheek that's less revitalized than the other.
And watching the clock for my next application. Staring at myself in the mirror. The circular motion and the upward sweeps. It feels so... self-absorbed. Not my thing.
Yes, I do realize I'm walking away from walking the years back, and I'm not going to achieve my full radiance potential. I'll happily settle for less than dewy perfection because frankly, I'm just not that into me.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
My skin care routine is simple. If there's something on my face, I wipe it off with whatever's handy. Good to go.
I'm still not sure why, but I recently gave into an impulse and bought a full suite of skin care products. When I first saw the pristine jars nestled in their organic packing material, I thought, "Yeah! I should pamper myself a little bit. This will be nice." Then I looked at the directions.
1. Wash face and pat dry.
2. Using a circular motion, apply Deep Renewal Serum to entire face. Allow to absorb completely (15 minutes).
3. With a light touch, apply Instant Effects around eyes. Allow to absorb completely (15 minutes).
4. Using gentle upward sweeps, apply Neck Renewal to neck. Allow to absorb completely (15 minutes).
5. Apply Refresh and Radiate to entire face. Allow to absorb completely (15 minutes).
6. For best results repeat twice daily.
For real? The absorption time alone adds up to an hour-long gig, and I'm supposed to do it twice a day? Yeah, right. But since the money was spent I decided to give it a whirl.
Well, it's been 10 days, and I've done the whole routine only 9 times. I've missed e-l-e-v-e-n times!
The 15 minutes between steps is tough to manage. I'm rarely available 15 minutes after the last time I was available. I apply something and then I get on a conference call or drive a kiddo somewhere or work on a client project and by the time I remember my next application, half the day is gone, which makes the "twice daily" element a real challenge. I've had to set my alarm for 3 different times in the night to get all my potions on.
I don't dig having stuff on my face. Knowing it's on there makes me itch, and if I scratch my cheek I don't know if I should reapply the last potion to that section or just wait for the next one. I don't want to go through all these shenanigans and be left with one cheek that's less revitalized than the other.
And watching the clock for my next application. Staring at myself in the mirror. The circular motion and the upward sweeps. It feels so... self-absorbed. Not my thing.
Yes, I do realize I'm walking away from walking the years back, and I'm not going to achieve my full radiance potential. I'll happily settle for less than dewy perfection because frankly, I'm just not that into me.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
February 11, 2018
It's Enough With the "Good Job" Already
Out with a friend yesterday, we stopped in the bathroom to wash our hands before lunch. In the few minutes that took, my friend bestowed 6... yes, six... "good job"s on her little girl.
One for turning the faucet on. Good job!
One for holding her hand under the automatic soap dispenser and catching the soap. Good job!
One for rubbing her hands together to create a lather. Good job!
One for successfully rinsing said lather off her hands. Good job!
One for tugging a paper towel from the dispenser. Good job!
One for throwing the paper towel in the trash bin. Good job!
I believe she had good intentions. I believe she was trying to encourage her daughter's independence. The problem is that over-praising does the opposite. It fosters dependence by setting the expectation of Behavior = Reward. When you do XYZ, I reward you with praise. You do, then I give. Over-praising fixes an external locus of control. You rely on me to validate you. (What happens if I'm not there or I'm talking to someone else, or I'm too tired or not in the mood to slap a Good job! on you?)
Of course praise can be motivating, and there's nothing wrong with giving it. But much of the value is in the judiciousness of the offering. If everything our children do is praised, the praise means less. And besides, who wants to constantly monitor every micro-move their kid makes and comment on it?
Tie and re-tie your shoes until you get it right? Good for you. Drill your math facts while waiting for the bus? Good use of your time. Dig deep, tough it out, buck up, push through, never say die? Good job! But rinse your hands? Tear a paper towel? I see that as learning self-care. It's important and necessary, but it's also expected; for most kiddos, it's not a function of exceptional effort.
I'm sure I've heaped unearned praise on my kids from time to time. (It's hard not to when their very existence is a daily marvel.) I'm a work in progress, and I've become much better at stopping myself.
The turning point for me was at a playground several years ago. I actually heard a little boy say, "Look Mommy! I'm good jobbing!" I kid you not. This little boy had no idea what he was doing well, but he was certain he was.
Stop. The. Madness.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
One for turning the faucet on. Good job!
One for holding her hand under the automatic soap dispenser and catching the soap. Good job!
One for rubbing her hands together to create a lather. Good job!
One for successfully rinsing said lather off her hands. Good job!
One for tugging a paper towel from the dispenser. Good job!
One for throwing the paper towel in the trash bin. Good job!
I believe she had good intentions. I believe she was trying to encourage her daughter's independence. The problem is that over-praising does the opposite. It fosters dependence by setting the expectation of Behavior = Reward. When you do XYZ, I reward you with praise. You do, then I give. Over-praising fixes an external locus of control. You rely on me to validate you. (What happens if I'm not there or I'm talking to someone else, or I'm too tired or not in the mood to slap a Good job! on you?)
Of course praise can be motivating, and there's nothing wrong with giving it. But much of the value is in the judiciousness of the offering. If everything our children do is praised, the praise means less. And besides, who wants to constantly monitor every micro-move their kid makes and comment on it?
Tie and re-tie your shoes until you get it right? Good for you. Drill your math facts while waiting for the bus? Good use of your time. Dig deep, tough it out, buck up, push through, never say die? Good job! But rinse your hands? Tear a paper towel? I see that as learning self-care. It's important and necessary, but it's also expected; for most kiddos, it's not a function of exceptional effort.
I'm sure I've heaped unearned praise on my kids from time to time. (It's hard not to when their very existence is a daily marvel.) I'm a work in progress, and I've become much better at stopping myself.
The turning point for me was at a playground several years ago. I actually heard a little boy say, "Look Mommy! I'm good jobbing!" I kid you not. This little boy had no idea what he was doing well, but he was certain he was.
Stop. The. Madness.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
November 10, 2009
What's Up?
My book is finished and in production, and as a result, I've been spending most of my time on The Adoptive Parent website and blog.
On the homefront, life with two kidlets is so very different from life with one. Richer in every way except the checkbook :)
Make a great day,
Sally
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
On the homefront, life with two kidlets is so very different from life with one. Richer in every way except the checkbook :)
Make a great day,
Sally
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
July 29, 2009
This Should Go Without Saying
1. Never, ever, ever put a lid on a box with your sister inside it.
2. Please don't glue beads to your brother's penis.
Even if he says it's OK.
3. No, you may not touch the ceiling fan while it's spinning to see if it will really chop your finger off. Assume that it will.
4. It's poop, Child! What did you think it would taste like?
5. Which of the following are things you may not do or play with even if all of your friends are allowed to and I'm the meanest mother on the planet and I don't understand anything?
a. BB gun
b. trampoline
c. pierce or tattoo your own or anyone else's body
d. anything stupid
e. all of the above
The correct answer is E. Thank you for playing.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
2. Please don't glue beads to your brother's penis.
Even if he says it's OK.
3. No, you may not touch the ceiling fan while it's spinning to see if it will really chop your finger off. Assume that it will.
4. It's poop, Child! What did you think it would taste like?
5. Which of the following are things you may not do or play with even if all of your friends are allowed to and I'm the meanest mother on the planet and I don't understand anything?
a. BB gun
b. trampoline
c. pierce or tattoo your own or anyone else's body
d. anything stupid
e. all of the above
The correct answer is E. Thank you for playing.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
July 04, 2009
Make Outdoor Fitness Fun
If you're looking for ways to get fit as a family, check out my article "Make Outdoor Fitness Fun" in this month's Genesee Valley Parent Magazine. I've done the obstacle course with "kids" of ALL ages, and we've had a blast!
Enjoy summer!!!
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
Enjoy summer!!!
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
May 22, 2009
What Do You Think Of Your Baby Brother?
"Mama, he's very happy in his mind, and he smiles a lot so we can know it."
"We can't get married now because I'm a girl and he's a baby boy. When we're both grownups, then we can get married like you and Daddy."
"Watch out, Daddy. He might pee on you!"
"Did you hear that, Mama? He's trying to say my name!"
"Mom! He spit up in my bed. Eeeew! He spit up again and it's on me! Here! Take him, take him. Get him out of here!"
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
"We can't get married now because I'm a girl and he's a baby boy. When we're both grownups, then we can get married like you and Daddy."
"Watch out, Daddy. He might pee on you!"
"Did you hear that, Mama? He's trying to say my name!"
"Mom! He spit up in my bed. Eeeew! He spit up again and it's on me! Here! Take him, take him. Get him out of here!"
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
May 10, 2009
The Perfect Mother's Day is Underway
I'm having the best Mother's Day I've ever had. Seriously!
I'm enjoying rich, hot coffee in my favorite mug and watching the robins chase against a backdrop of huge, soft clouds in a bright blue sky.
No one is whining. No one is drumming on the table. No one is spilling or shrieking or issuing ultimatums through gritted teeth.
No one needs to be fed, wiped, burped, or applauded. Everyone in my little family is peaceful, quiet, and well-behaved, and I feel totally relaxed.
Considering it's Mother's Day... would it be rude of me to hide when they wake up?
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
I'm enjoying rich, hot coffee in my favorite mug and watching the robins chase against a backdrop of huge, soft clouds in a bright blue sky.
No one is whining. No one is drumming on the table. No one is spilling or shrieking or issuing ultimatums through gritted teeth.
No one needs to be fed, wiped, burped, or applauded. Everyone in my little family is peaceful, quiet, and well-behaved, and I feel totally relaxed.
Considering it's Mother's Day... would it be rude of me to hide when they wake up?
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
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