Monday, May 23, 2011

I can't think of title for this.

It's weird to have two kids, one adopted, one not. I tend to analyze the nature vs. nurture thing all the time.  And I question myself and my motives. Do I treat them differently? Do I love them differently?  Lucas is often a mystery to me. Is it because he's a boy? Or because he's an oddball six year old, or is it some deep biological bond that I just don't have with him? Do I relate better to Merry because I grew her with my lady bits? I don't know.

The other day, Lucas was looking at a poster that he had brought home from his week of being the superstar in his kindergarten class. It had pictures of him and his sister and his pets and a map, showing where he was born, Guatemala, and where he lives now, Minneapolis. And he goes, "I wish we could go to Guatemala. I miss my parents."

Lucas has no memory of his birth parents. And I know what he said is just his way of processing the understanding that I didn't give birth to him, and there is someone else out there in the world who did, but man, ouch! And of course, I knew this was coming. Just like I can probably count on at least one teenage tantrum with him yelling, "You're not my real mom!" Probably several. But I was really surprised by how much it hurt.

I had to go in the bathroom and cry a little.


  1. Oh shit, I'd be right there on the porcelin weeping with you but you handled it well.
    The stuff that comes out of their mouths is a mystery to me as well and I can tell you that my 12 year old daughter comes out with some stuff that leaves me ready to pack my bags and catch a slow moving train (slow because I'm old and can't catch anything fast)

  2. Youch! Yeah that would break my black heart in two. But you know he doesn't mean that of course. He knows you're his mom, and given an actual choice he'd never choose differently.


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