What do you mean I'm not their REAL mom?

I'm not a very controversial person. I know. I know. Somewhere, my mom is reading this and laughing. And, yeah, it's true. In my teens and all the way up to just a few years ago, I loved nothing more than a good argument. I would argue anything and everything.

Hey. I wasn't the Captain of the Debate Team for no reason, you know.

But somewhere along the line, it just stopped being fun. I no longer got an adrenaline rush out of it. I got a headache. And I officially hung up by debating boxing gloves when we started homeschooling. One of the reason we looked into HS in the first place was because I spent all my time and energy arguing with the Special Ed department of our former school district (yeah, I'm talking to you Denton ISD).

So, anyway, (and it's impossible for me to make any story a short story), I just decided not to let things rile me up anymore. There are more important things in the world than having to prove I'm right or arguing a point with someone who doesn't even really care about me or my family.

But that changed last Friday.

I went to the Homeschool Book Fair in Arlington last week. It's really great - totally overwhelming (they should pass out barf bags to all parents before they walk in) and really expensive (they should also snip holes in your pockets as you fill out the registration form), but it's a really great Fair.

So, I find myself drawn to this booth about Homeschool How-To's and the booklets were pretty cheap and looked really good, so I bought a few. One of them was about how to be a focused mother - and it's pretty good, actually. Until you get to one certain part...

Basically, it talks about how we moms don't realize how important we are to our kids. That no matter what we do or how we treat them, we are their life. I mean, it wasn't advocating that you beat your kids and leave them... it was just giving illustrations about how amazingly important we are to our children. And then it says,

" Check this out.. even if you are a rotten mother, a drug addict who abandoned your child as a baby, your child will spend the rest of his life LOOKIN' for you! Orphans want to find their REAL mothers... it is their one and only obsession until it is accomplished".

Okay, that chapped my hide. Seriously, what's that all about??

Semantically speaking, the whole thing doesn't make sense. An orphan, by definition, has no living parents. So, technically, an orphan could never accomplish "their one and only obsession".

But, yeah, I know that's not what she meant. What really ticked me off was the use of REAL parents - and how it was emphasized. And, I know, she didn't write it thinking, "hmmm.. how can I really piss off adoptive parents?". It was probably very innocent - but it was ignorant. So, I'm here to say....

PLEASE don't use the words "real mom", "real dad", or "real parents"... because you're going to make me want to smack the crap out of you. And unless you want to be on the other end of an angry Leslie tirade - which I guarantee none of you - except my parents and one particular ex-boyfriend who I still would like to beat the living daylights out of - have ever witnessed - please, please, please think before you speak.

Okay????

Now, let me take a deep breath here. Alright. Look. before I became an adoptive mom, I used the term "real parents". I didn't know any better. I didn't think about it. It never occurred to me that I might be offending someone. I mean, I specifically recall finding out - during the middle of adopting Noah - that a co-worker was adopted and I asked her if she ever wanted to find her real parents. She just let my ignorance roll right off her because she's a much better person than I am. But, now, remembering that... I'm so embarrassed.

You can look at it anyway you want. My kids have two moms. They have a birth mother and an adoptive mother. They have a birth mother and me. They have two REAL moms. We're both REAL people. True, I didn't give birth to my children. But I've fed them, rocked them, stayed up all night with them. I've kissed boo-boo's, made up songs, wiped up throw-up. I've been there for first words, first walks, and first stumbles. I was there when Eli cried for the first time when another child made fun of him. I was there, in the hospital, all day and night when Noah was hospitalized last year with MRSA. I am there every single night when Nandini wakes up screaming from night terrors - and I haven't had a decent sleep in almost 6 years. I love my kids with my heart and soul. I would die a thousand deaths for them. I would give my life for them - without blinking an eye. Without hesitation.

Am I not a REAL mom?

This isn't about Me vs. their Birth Mom(s). This is me getting sick and tired of people assuming that parents who adopt can't possibly love their adopted kids as much as their real kids. Puh-leeze. This is for all the people who constantly ask if we're ever going to have "one of our own" while my kids are standing right there in front me - listening with their little ears. This is for the lady at Walmart who nodded at the kids and said, "How much does one of them run?" Unless you are seriously interested in adopting, please don't ask my kids "how much they cost" - especially in front of them. Unless you want me to ask what your hospital delivery bill was, if you emptied your retirement to pay for in-vitro or what position you used to get pregnant... do NOT ask me such personal questions unless you are seriously interested in adoption - especially not in front of my children.

This is for all the people who ask if we knew about Noah and Nandini's special needs - again, in front of them - before we adopted them. If we say yes, then we're thought of as either crazy or noble. If we say no, then we get a look of pity.

This is for the man who looked at Noah and said, "Why don't you just send him back?"

Yeah, and why don't you just crawl back under the rock you came from.

This is for everyone who says, "Oh, your kids are so lucky you adopted them." Uh. No. I'm the lucky one. Pre-Mom.. I was a selfish brat who didn't give a flying fig about anyone other than myself. I am the lucky one. They have changed me - and I am forever grateful for that.

And, while I'm on my gigantic soapbox.... and, ahhhh, it feels good to be back... let's just say Jeers to NBC for their Mother's Day Special that aired the other day. I didn't see it... but, boy, did I read about it. What ignoramus came up a category of honoring Non-Moms? And, I quote...

"The Non-Mom: Grandparent, stepmom, or mom to adopted children, each one raising and loving a child. A priceless gift for everybody."

You've got to be kidding me. Do you really want to go there? What... we parents who didn't give birth are now reduced to being "Non-Moms?"

Fortunately, so many people wrote in and complained that they changed the category from Non-Mom to Adopting Mom. But still... I'd like to throw a mud pie into the idiot's face who thought that whole thing would be a good idea.

Yeah. See. Now you know why I try to stay out of arguments. Because I get too riled up. And it takes me forever to get over it. Which is why I'm not saying anymore... because I could seriously go on for days and days.

And, just in case you're wondering, I did fire off an email to the lady who ticked me off in the first place. It was rather pleasant, I thought. I exercised full self-control. I was a true lady.

Or so I think. She hasn't responded back.

Leslie