Your Real Sister

Yesterday was Emmy's first day at daycare. No, I didn't cry when I dropped her off.

I was a bit concerned and nervous that she might be scared or upset, though I tried not to show it.

I tried to be very animated and excited. I made my eyes get big as I talked about the playground equipment and all the cool kids she was going to meet. I even tried to make nap time sound exciting. Epic fail, by the way.

Emmy seemed a little apprehensive as we dropped her off but Jonathan grabbed her hand and immediately began running through the building with her securely in tow yelling about this, that and the other Emmy needed to go see.

Emmy actually turned her head to me and shook her head at me as if to say, "Kids." or "Can you believe this?"

I left feeling pretty confident that things would go well. After all, Emmy had her brother with her.

When we got the kids home, they were running around talking a mile a minute about this, that and the other and I was so relieved that things seemed to have gone well.

As I was cooking dinner however, I noticed both the kids standing near the short stairs leading into the kitchen. They were whispering and eyeing me in what I'm sure they thought was a surreptitious manner.

I finally turned around and asked them what was up.

Jonathan nudged Emmy forward and she began speaking though she was looking at just about anything in the kitchen but my face.

"Mommy. Um. This boy, um, there was this boy at school and he, um, he told me, he said that, um...he said that Jonathan wasn't my brother."

Now the Monkey chimed in:

"Yeah, Mommy. He said Emmy's not my sister."

And both sets of big eyes, one a deep creamy brown and one a crackling blue are staring intently at me.

It was time to put down the spoon and just pray the food survived a few minutes pause.

I sat down on the stairs for easy eye contact and explained.

"Well, that boy was wrong. You know how sometimes you really think something? Like you see a toy and you think it's going to be really fun but it turns out it isn't? Or you see a food and you think it's going to be sweet and yummy and it isn't?"

Sage nods in reply.

"Well, I'm sure that boy might think Jonathan's not your brother and Emmy's not your sister, but he's wrong. I don't think you should fight with him about it though. One day, he might get the chance to understand that he's wrong but that doesn't matter, does it? You know that Jonathan's your brother, Emmy. Jonathan, you know that Emmy's your sister. That's all that matters, right?"

Two little faces filled with relieved smiles and Emmy immediately turned with the typical elder sibling reaction:

Emmy: See, I TOLD you.
Jonathan: Nu, uh! I told YOU.

I gave them hugs. They ran to the living room to play and dinner miraculously survived its temporary abandonment.

I haven't been able to shake a tugging brought on by the situation and the obviously deep reaction it evoked in the kids. They asked their Daddy about it at dinner, seemingly looking for more reassurance.

My hubby was surprised by how deeply the accusation seemed to have affected them. We talked about it after the munchkins were abed.

Hubby: Why does it matter what one kid thinks? Why does that little thing make them doubt they're brother and sister?

I could feel the answer but had trouble expressing it. I'm still not sure what I said made sense.

See, I've been there. I've been hanging out with my sisters and had some kid or group of kids state with utter conviction that we weren't sisters, at least, not REAL sisters.

That word real always made me so mad. Kids weren't the only ones to use it either.

Adults would often ask the hated question:

"Which are your real kids?"

Okay, ow. Sorry, sibs, you're not real.

My Dad always made a joke out of it. He'd say something like, "Well, they're all real. None of them are plastic."

Mom would just quietly fume, which is her being on her best behavior. I can still see Mom's special smile. It was more like a closed lip grimace and it's the expression she always had when someone asked that question.

Sometimes, Dad's gentle attempt to point out the hurtful nature of the inquiry would fall on deaf ears.

"No, I mean, which ones are really yours and which ones did you adopt?"

Um, Mr. Sensitivity, we're all 'really' theirs. Eventually, Dad adopted the policy of answering the question after tactfully pointing out that we were all real.

Something like this: "They're all real. None of them are plastic but (pointing) that one and that one are our only biological children."

Dad told us he was going to start saying this because he was afraid that Mom might hit someone if they kept asking the even less tactful and more hurtful follow up questions.

We had all sort of learned to smile and nod at the seemingly inevitable question but it never really lost its sting.

So, why does it bother my kids and why did it bother me and my sibs when people would imply or flatly state that adopted siblings aren't "real" siblings?

I'm not really sure, to be honest.

I've been trying to figure it out. I guess you could try to imagine what it would be like if someone said that you weren't really married. Or why most people go through the ceremony and paperwork involved in becoming married. I mean, why do gay people want the right to be married? Because that title makes you family and being family is important. Having someone threaten that relationship or the legitimacy of that relationship is hurtful.

The simple statement is an attack, really. It's attacking your relationship or the legitimacy of the relationship. It's attacking the love you have for each other.

It might have something to do with the nature of foster care and adoption. When we were in the process of adopting we attended functions and met kids. I remember at one summer picnic I met a "potential".

Parents don't go to an orphanage or group home and pick out a kid to take home. The state somehow decides what kids might be appropriate for potential parents. Then they arrange for those parents to spend time with those kids at events. I'd heard that Wanda was a potential and she had somehow heard that we were a potential family for her as well.

We met each other, as I said, at the summer picnic. I think we were six at the time. It was odd. I mean, we were almost literally circling each other, sizing each other up and asking questions. Then, click! We decided we liked each other and spent every second of the rest of the picnic together. We made plans that remind me of the parent trap on how we were going to make sure that Wanda would be my new sister.

It didn't happen. Wanda and her brother were adopted by another couple before my family made our first adoption. I cried into my pillow for days after I found out. I doubt Wanda suffered the same dejection because, of course, she had a new family to think about. Her family and mine ran in the same 'adopt older kids' (A-OK) circles, so we remained friends for a few years until we got older and developed very different interests.

On the other side of it my siblings, of course, had been placed in many foster homes before being placed with us. They had developed attachments and had them severed by the system. It was a painful thing and, even though you know the adoption is final and no one is coming to take them away, it's scary. Somewhere in the dark recesses of your brain is the idea that at one time this person you love wasn't here and maybe at one time they won't be here again.

So, when some mindless adult asks a tactless question, that little fear sends a little jolt through your system, usually resulting in a bit of a stomach ache and some compensatory brash behavior: Laughing a little too loud at something that honestly wasn't that funny, that kind of thing.

It's scary to be a kid and love someone so absolutely but at the same time have this lingering fear, no matter how tiny, that you'll lose that person. Kids shouldn't have to deal with that kind of apprehension and fear. They shouldn't go to bed at night and feel the need to ask their new Mommy, "Will you and Daddy be here when I wake up?" It breaks my heart that Emmy feels the need to ask that.

It breaks my heart that still, the first thing out of Jonathan's mouth in the morning is, "Where's Emmy?" or "Emmy's in her room?"

They love each other so much. They love being brother and sister.

So, I guess that's why someone telling them they're not "real" siblings had such an affect on them....and on me.

Culture Shock, Journal Letters & SPAM

Journal Letters

Some people who read this know I have lived many places. I seem to have finally landed in Arkansas. I've lived here seven years, a record bested only by my childhood stay in South Louisiana (14 years).

There are definite perks to being a bouncy ball type person. For one, more often than not, you're flying! You also get to meet new and interesting people and get to know new and interesting things about new and interesting places.

There are down sides to the bouncing bit and that's the rebound. Culture shock sucks. Counter culture shock sucks even more because you don't allow yourself any rope.

When I first got back from Europe I had loads of counter culture shock.

For example, I'm riding in a car with some friends down a street in Lubbock, Texas. I see a street sign that says Utica St. and I start laughing and saying, "Utica Ulica!" I think it hilarious. No one else is laughing. So, I start trying to explain why it's funny.

Never a good sign.

See, I was pronouncing the name Utica in Slovak like this, "Ooo-tea-tsuh". Utica pronounced like that sounds very, very similar to the Slovak word for street, "Ooo-lee-tsuh", which is funny, or was to me anyway.

My friends blinked in that "you're not funny" way and one of them said, "It's pronounced 'You-ti-kuh".

Oh.

So, not that funny after all.

Then we're still driving and the Backstreet Boys song "Quit Playing Games With My Heart" comes on. I groan and say something along the lines of why are they playing that old song? It's been played to death.

Again with the blinking.

Friend: "What are you talking about? This song is brand new."

That's right folks. I changed continents with the just the right timing to get a double dose of backstreet boys. It's not that they're bad. They can sing and they're music really isn't awful but both in Europe and in the States they were played to death and I got a double dose of overexposure. What is that? Double over exposure or is it over over exposure?

Over exposure. Northern exposure. Who cares? Blah! The point is, it was just too much Backstreet Boys.

Then there were the doors.

No, not The Doors (how old do you think I am?).

I guess I should say, door handles.

In Europe there are a lot of lever like door handles. In fact, where I lived in Kosice, Slovakia that was pretty much all they had.

I developed this habit of slapping the handle down and then pushing the door open with my shoulder.

Slap. Slam.

It worked quite well.

Now imagine me returning to the United States, or as I like to call it, The Land of Doorknobs.

When you slap a doorknob, nothing happens. It does not magically retract the spring-loaded latch. It just gets slapped.

So, when you slam your shoulder into the door the only thing that happens is you bruise your shoulder...again...and again...and again.

It took me f-o-r-e-v-e-r to break that habit despite the painful incentive to cut it out. It had somehow been burned into my brain.

Slap. Slam. Slap. Slam

So, yeah. Culture shock is a definite downside and it's not limited to different countries either.

Moving from South Louisiana to West Texas is a pretty huge adjustment as well.

Cajuns are very friendly, touchy feely, huggy people. We went for a visit recently and, I'm not kidding, our waitress gave me a hug at the end of our meal. My hubby was confused.

Hubby: Do you know her?
Me: Well, sort of. She's Jessie, our waitress.
Hubby: But you don't know her from somewhere else?
Me: No, why?
Hubby: She hugged you.
Me: So?
Hubby: (rolling eyes) Cajuns.

Texans aren't huggy people. I guess with all those wide open spaces, they adopted very wide open personal spaces as well. You hug them and they get all stiff. It was a HUGE adjustment for me. Then there was the water.

If you poured water from the tap the first thing it did was get all cloudy and fizzy. I'm serious. There was some distinct fizzing going on. Then, once everything settled down, this filmy stuff formed on the top not unlike the stuff that forms on the top of warm milk when it's been left out to cool.

Ew.

You did not drink from the tap. Everyone kept these huge five gallon bottles of water in their houses or those water coolers you usually only see in offices. There were little kiosks everywhere that sold water. You'd put in your money, pick the number of gallons and then hold your bottles underneath while it spewed drinking water.

For someone raised in a place where you could practically drink the air, moving to a desert involved serious adjustments. Dust storms. Ugh. Don't get me started on dust storms. I'd come home, open the door to my apartment and there would be a line of dusty dirt that the wind had managed to blow through even the miniscule spaces left by the weather proofing.

The horizon was also just way too big. I was used to the sky being hugged by giant trees strung with Spanish moss like freaking Christmas tensile and I got huge, gigantic, down-right intimidating horizons and these poor tiny wind stunted trees that look like overgrown bushes.

Everything hugs you in SoLa (South Louisiana). The air is heavy with humidity that seems to hold you there in an ever-present hug, for crying out loud.

Texas was space, space and more space. You know why the cowboy is always riding toward the sunset in Westerns? Because it's the only freaking thing there he CAN ride toward! There is nothing else!

Like Red Skelton said. "In Texas they got miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles."

Now, don't get me wrong, once I got used to Texas I loved it. The prairie dogs were cute. The stars, oh my freaking goodness me, the STARS! You've never seen stars until you've seen them from the middle of a West Texas field.

Okay, rattlesnakes? You can keep 'em. Not a fan.

And Texans are friendly in their own special way. The friendliness is different and harder to understand when you're an outsider but it's there.

Cajuns are a touchy friendly. Texans are a wordy friendly.

The affection and friendliness is there in the y'alls and yes'ems. These almost coded messages of not just love but respect for each other. The gesture of the tipped hat (even when they're not actually wearing a hat) and "Y'all come back now, y'hear?" is the Texas version of a hug. Once you figure it out, it's just amazing.

Why am I writing about this? Because I was thinking about it. I was writing in my journal letter to a friend from Slovakia and thinking about friendships and the past and culture shock.

BTW, a journal letter is when you take a small notebook or journal and write a little bit in it everyday. You send one of these little journals once a month to a friend who is very far away and for whom mailing a daily letter or even weekly letter is cumbersome.

This is something I came up with back in the days when email wasn't quite as commonplace as it is nowadays. I, actually, only exchange journal letters with one person at this point. It can't be beat for long distance relationships and, if you have a long distance friend, I highly recommend journal letters. They take a certain amount of discipline but are totally worth it, in my humble opinion.

There is no real conclusion to this blog. Its just a blog of random reminiscing and so I will end it with random trivia.

Spam was invented by Hormel because he was tired of throwing shoulder pork away after packaging his hams. Because it had to be pulled in small pieces from the bone, no one wanted to buy it and he just thought it was wasteful.

So, he had the meat cooked pulled, ground like beef and then canned.

When it came to naming this new product though, Hormel was stumped. So, he didn't name it.

It was actually named by a friend at a party he threw to introduce it. He had a chef prepare several dishes from the ground shoulder pork product and asked his friends to come over, sample it and help him name it.

One of his friends finally said, "It's a shoulder pork ham, right? What about SPAM?"

And that is how SPAM got it's name.

Hey, I said it was random trivia.

Eat THIS, Morgan Spurlock!!!

Eating Good at the Drive Thru.


What? Good fast food? Isn’t that an oxymoron? I mean, we all know that fast food can taste good, but can it actually be good for you?

Um, in a word, yes.

Here are four different fast food restaurants other than Subway (because, let's face it, you don't need help eating healthy there) and at least one complete, yummy, but balanced meal from each.

So, the next time you’re running late, or maybe just feel tired and don’t want to cook. Pick up one of these diet friendly and nutritious (yes, I said nutritious) meals at the drive thru.


1. Burger King

Burger King has some real gut busters on their menu. I mean, those stackers will sure stack on the pounds, but our favorite monarch still has a nice gut friendly meal to offer.

1 Whopper Jr. (hold the mayo)
1 Side Salad w/light Italian dressing
Water to drink
7 Weight Watcher points. (305 Calories, 12g Fat, 3g Dietary Fiber)

This meal is not only low in calories and fat but provides 16g of protein, 29% DV of Vitamin A, 16% Vitamin C, 10% Calcium and 20% Iron.

It’s a good idea to specifically ask for ketchup and mustard when you have them hold the mayo. Otherwise you can end up with a completely dry burger.

Maybe the best thing about this meal is that if you get the water from a fountain or faucet the entire meal will only cost you $2 plus tax!

2. McDonald’s

I know what you’re thinking, “Didn’t they make an entire documentary about how eating at Mickey D’s could kill you?” Yeah, but Mr. Spurlock was intentionally eating only the mainstream meals. If you eat pretty much any meal with a number assigned to it, you’re not doing yourself any favors; even most of their signature salads are loaded with fat and calories. However, a regular hamburger and a side salad with one of the many low fat Newman’s Own dressings can be surprisingly good for you.

1 Hamburger
1 Side Salad w/light Italian dressing
Water to drink
7 Weight Watcher points. (330 Calories, 11.5g Fat, 3g Dietary Fiber)

This meal is low in calories and fat like the BK version. While it offers a bit less protein (only 14 grams as apposed to 16) it provides more in the way of vitamins:
Vitamin A 45% (!), Vitamin C 27%, Calcium 12%, Iron 19%.

The difference in vitamin value is most likely because the Burger King salad is almost entirely ice berg lettuce with only a skimpy two baby carrots and usually a single halved tomato slice. The McDonald’s version actually resembles something that might be related to a true salad.

3. Wendy’s

Wendy’s actually offers several different mix and match options that can result in a well balanced meal. So, I’m going to list four meals for them.

First is the Chicken Caesar meal. You are generally given two packets of dressing and croutons but we are going to only use one dressing packet and skip the croutons.

First Meal:
1 Grilled Chicken Caesar Salad
1 package of dressing
Water to drink
7 Weight Watcher’s Points. (300 Calories, 17g Fat, 3g of Dietary Fiber)

Get this, the above meal gives you 29 grams of protein (!) and the vitamin breakdown is incredible:
190% Vitamin A, 90% Vitamin C, 20% Calcium and 10% Iron.

Second Meal:
1 Small Chili
1 Side Salad with ½ a package of Italian dressing
Water to drink
5 Weight Watcher’s Points! (225 Calories, 11.5g Fat, 7g Dietary Fiber)

This meal also provides a generous portion of protein (15g) as well as an impressive amount of vitamins.
94% Vitamin A, 31% Vitamin C, 12% Calcium, 21% Iron.

Third Meal:
1 Small Chili
1 Side Caesar Salad with ½ a package of Caesar dressing
Water to drink
7 Weight Watcher’s Point. (320 Calories, 16.5g Fat, 7g Dietary Fiber)

The creamy Caesar dressing adds 2 points to the total value but adds 6g of protein and raises the vitamin values as well.
104% Vitamin A (up 10%), 41% Vitamin C (up 10%), 20% Calcium (up 8%)
21% Iron (no change).

The Fourth and final meal will be a burger, because most of the time when you’re wanting fast food what you’re really wanting is a burger.
1 Jr. Hamburger
1 Side Salad with ½ a package of Italian dressing
Water to drink
8 Weight Watcher’s Points (385 Calories, 15g Fat, 3g Dietary Fiber)


Wendy’s appears to be the worst place to get a hamburger. However, though Wendy’s (like Burger King) serves it’s hamburgers with mayo, they don’t offer nutritional information for the burger without mayo. If you take the basic nutritional info that a serving size of mayo is 1 tbsp and that tbsp contains 110 calories and 12 grams of fat (yeah, that is how much a tbsp of mayo will cost you) and then you suppose that Wendy’s puts about half a tbsp on a burger (being conservative here). Then ordering the burger without mayo would reduce the total calories by 55 and the total fat by 6 grams. (330 Calories, 9g Fat, 3g Dietary Fiber) =7 WW Pts.

I am inclined to accept this estimation as it matches up to the nutritional value of other fast food burgers that do not have mayo on them.

Vitamin Time!

Protein 16g, 90% Vitamin A, 25% Vitamin C, 8% Calcium, 26% Iron.

4. Taco Bell

Taco Bell isn’t doing us any favors by encouraging late night feasting with their fourth meal campaign but they are doing us the favor of offering the fresco menu. Now, you can get a slimmer version of old favorites without having to give them a customized do’s and don’t’s list. Because of this, and their extremely varied menu, I’m presenting four different Taco Bell meals ranging from 5 to 8 weight watcher’s points.

Remember all of these meals are the fresco versions!

First Meal:
1 7 Layer Burrito
Water to drink
5 Weight Watchers points! (248 Calories, 8g Fat, 9g Dietary Fiber)

Compared to some of the other meals mentioned the protein and vitamins offered seem a bit skimpy but it has the second highest Iron value thus far. This is also the only vegetarian fast food meal that doesn't require me to eat several side salads. So, you can guess where I go for fast food, =).

13g Protein, 6% Vitamin A, 10% Vitamin C, 15% Calcium, 25% Iron.

A single 7 layer burrito is plenty for me but I know that some others want a bit more. And by more, I mean meat. =)

Second Meal:
1 7 Layer Burrito
1 Spicy Chicken Soft Taco
Water to drink
8 Weight Watcher points. (383 Calories, 14g Fat, 11g Dietary Fiber)

Ouch! An extra 3 points for a chicken taco? However, did you see that dietary fiber go off the charts! Unfortunately, the burrito maxes out the dietary fiber values and it doesn’t do much good in the points arena, but Taco Bell looks like a good place to be a regular.
Vitamins and protein go up!
Protein 23g (!), Vitamin A 15%, Vitamin C 20%, Calcium 25%, Iron 35% (!).


Third Meal:
1 Grilled Stuffed Burrito (Chicken)
Water to drink
7 Weight Watchers Points. (318 Calories, 13g Fat, 8g Dietary Fiber)

I know that there are some carnivores out there scoffing at the vegetarian 7 layer burrito. Well, this one’s for you! The fresco version of this very large burrito is filling and fit.

Vitamins!

Protein 30g (!), Vitamin A 10%, Vitamin C 10%, Calcium 20%, Iron 35% (!)


Fourth Meal:
2 Spicy Chicken Soft Tacos
Water to drink
7 Weight Watchers points. (360 Calories, 12g Fat, 8g Dietary Fiber)

The highest Iron value we’d seen prior to visiting the Bell was 21% and this fourth and final meal is the only one to not exceed that benchmark. Taco Bell definitely seems to be one of the best drive thrus for Iron and Protein.

This meal has 20% Iron, 20% Calcium, 15% Vitamin C, 20% Vitamin A and 21g of Protein.


Conclusion:

It looks like if you’re feeling a bit scurvy-ish (I know that’s not a word) then you’re better off getting a salad at one of the burger joints. But if you’re low on fiber, iron or protein and need to pick up some fast food, Taco Bell is your one stop shopping super center.

So, you see? You can grab some fast food on the way home without going off your diet or breaking the calorie piggy bank! More importantly, you can go to a fast food restaurant and get a well balanced and nutritious meal for yourself just by making a few informed choices.

Take that, Morgan Spurlock!

Silly Cat Song...I mean Kitten

Sung to the tune of Bingo...though I originally posted it as sung to the tune of Old MacDonald.
[headdesk]



There was a kitten who hated mittens
Cuz she liked to scratch the sofa.
She was very cross.
I was at a loss.
So I up and tossed
The kitten out the winda.

She landed sweet on her four feet
But still she wore the mittens.
She tried to roar at me.
I said she looked silly.
Then she leaped with glee
Right back thru the winda.

She tried to scratch my eyeballs out
But still she wore the mittens.
Her paws went pat pat pat.
I said, "Silly Cat."
She took offense at that.
She sniffed, "I am a Kitten!"

Why? Why would I write such an insane song?

I wish I had an answer to that question.
I really do.