adoption

National Adoption Month. Where Do Storks Come From?

“Father?” Said the almost five year old. “Listen, there is something I’ve been thinking about. You and I have been watching a lot of classic television programing lately. Shows like Tom and Jerry and Dumbo and I’ve noticed that in them, often a Stork drops off a baby to Moms and Dads.” “Yes?” I answer while thinking, “Here we go. It’s time to talk about his adoption story. Where’s Mom? It’s something her and I have had on our to-do list but just haven’t gotten to. Damn you MarioKart.” “So in these shows,” He continues. “The families always receive their babies from flying Storks. They are dropped from the moonlit sky and the little ones float in under a full parachute safely to land on the doorstep of their eager families. I’ve seen a Stork drop little elephants, giraffe and humans. All sorts of things. But what I’m wondering is this. Who brings the Storks?” “Uh, I’m not sure I follow?” “Well. A Stork flying around with a baby llama is quite a sight. Clearly that’s not the Storks child. […]

My Son. My Chronological Yardstick

Every memorable event in my life that happened before the spring of 2010 is filed away in my brain with a five-year buffer. My mental calendar from the era before I had a child is ordered in half-decade increments.When did I graduate college? “I was done wearing flannel shirts by that time… mid to late 90s?” Since my son was born he has become a yardstick on which I measure time. Instead of just inches marked off on the door frame, I see months and the corresponding historical events. I look at his growth notches on the wall like a geologist sees the colors of a canyon. My brother was married the month our son’s adoption was official. June 2010. February 2011 he started scooting around the coffee table on his way to becoming bipedal. In addition to tagging my memory with his chronology, I’ve watched the evolution of mankind as he’s inched his way up my leg. His descent from the crib was akin to an early man deciding that a tree wasn’t such a great place to raise

Though We May Not Share Blood

Since his birth in 2010, I’ve wondered when we would start seeing our traits in him. Without the blood bond biological children share with their parents I’ve been anxious to see us in him in ways that must be distinctly learned.  Along those lines, I’ve also been anxious to uncover the surprises we will find as he matures. Will there be a gait, posture, or curiosity that is neither mom nor dad but then seconds later a stance or pose that is uniquely us? Like me, will he look foolish when he dances?  When he says “Okedokee” will I hear my Nana? One of my favorite scenes in the movie Jaws is when Captain Brody is sitting at the table with his young son stewing over how best to save Amity Beach from the killer shark. Lost in his thoughts he takes a drink from his glass and looks up to see his son do the same. Quietly, he continues with a few hand movements and watches his son mimic him. It’s a silent game of Simon Says at the dining room

Scroll to Top