Happy Birthday, Mama!

My beautiful Mama would've been celebrating 86 years today.  It's a time to reflect on how much she meant to me, what an amazing Mom she was (I so appreciate that now more than ever) and how much I miss her.

How lucky am I that she chose me that fateful day in July 1969? I was only one month old and told (via my non-id info) it was love at first sight.  Although the search for my birthmom continues, she is my "real" mom.  Period.

If there is cake in Heaven (and there must be, right??), I hope Mama is enjoying an extra slice and celebrating with family and friends.

I love you!

13 Years Ago Today...

I lost my beautiful Mama to ovarian cancer. If your mom is still with us (or a wonderful woman that was a mother figure), call her tonight. No wait.. today. Right now. We just don't get to keep them nearly long enough.

I love you Mama.. so so much. And I miss you more than words can say.

Always & Forever,
~Your Seesa

A Christmas Note To Mama...

Dear Mama,

I wish I could send you a card, especially this year. You are always on my heart and now, with kiddos here at Christmas, you are missed even more. I didn't think that was possible ... but it is.

If a note could reach you I would tell you how special every child placed with us has been and that each would've stolen your heart. Especially our current little darlings. Lil Buddy is tender hearted and would've soaked your love up like a sponge. SweetPea looks just like me when I was little.. blue eyes, curly brown ringlets and all. Truth be told, she's way cuter but you were always rather prejudiced.. LOL.

The sweet memories you and Daddy created for me at Christmastime are flooding back in force. I don't know how you did it all. I wish you were here and we could reminisce. You hold the keys to my past and I feel they are slowly becoming lost forever. Our history is now but a few fading photos and a tape recording I found from my second Christmas. Yours and Daddy's voices transport me through time and space. A toddler repeating, "Oh no, not again!" and squealing over her new "atapilar" are all I have left.

But for that I am grateful.

My Christmas wish is that you know how much of an impact you made on my life. I will never be half the woman you were but will always strive to make you proud. Even though I was adopted, you loved me like I was a part of you... and I can still feel it.

Merry Christmas, Mama. I love you, too.

Adoption Angles Replay ~ A Tribute To Mama

A big thank you to everyone who was able to tune in to last night's show! It was really wonderful (and therapeutic) to get to pay tribute to Mama and share our adoption story with you all.




Missed it? Well, it's your lucky day (and yes, I agree.. I have a face for blogging)...



Mama,

I can hardly believe you have been gone 12 years. I miss you dearly and hope in some way I have made you proud. I strive to do so..

Love,
Your Seesa

Today Stinks.. No Foolin'

I'm no fan of April 1st. 11 years ago today I lost Mama to ovarian cancer and honestly, it still feels like yesterday. Some days her memory makes me smile and on others I cry.

I hope to be half the amazing person she once was.



I love you, Mama and miss you dearly.

Mama's Bargains

***Disclaimer***
This post was written under the influence of NyQuil. I apologize if it's discombobulated and nonsensical. If you don't see any difference well then never mind..

Now, back to our regularly scheduled ramblings..
~~~~~~~
Mama was frugal as the day is long. I might add, she was dang proud of it. If anyone thinks I'm over the top when I find a great bargain (think wine glasses) you never met my mother.

With our Christmas lights on outside and the holiday spirit creeping in Mama comes to mind. She absolutely loved this time of year. Reason One: Baby Jesus was the Reason for the Season and Number Two: Bargains Galore. You never saw a 4'11" red head happier than she was ravaging a 50% off rack.

She had several shopping vices but buying clothes was, by far, her biggest infraction. Her secret weapon? She could sew like a mad woman. As tiny was she was, she could find things in sizes too big and tailor them to her eensie frame. When she passed away, she had 2 walk in closets full of the finest clothes (all proudly purchased at bargain basement prices).

One of her big thrills was leaving the price tags ON her Christmas presents. Once unwrapped, she would announce the actual price then make you look at what she actually got it for. I kid you not.

I love my Mama and my memories are precious. I laugh at all the things she did that drove me nuts (that I catch myself doing now) but PLEASE stop me if I ever go that far..

Like Mother Like Daughter

Mama loved children. Drooling babies, unruly toddlers, screaming little girls, muddy little boys and everything in between. Her Baby Radar was always on and honing in on her next diapered subject. In the grocery store it would never fail. Within seconds she would making a bee line towards the itty bitty in the cart and ogle all over him or her. In church, if a little one was playing peek-a-boo over the pew in front of us, it was game on (on the flip side if I even thought of pulling a stunt like that during church ... not so cute).

As you can imagine when I saw that look in her eyes I would shrink back in horror. Could she be anymore embarrassing? Um, no. I was surely being tortured for reasons unknown.

I could of sworn that the parents of the accosted children were mortified over the assault by Mama. The reality was, they loved the attention their little ones were getting by the little crazy red head. However, I'm sure they were wondering what in the world was wrong with the snotty little curly haired, blue eyed girl.

I laugh every time my Baby Radar kicks in and I'm drawn to an itty bitty in a cart. Without a kiddo of my own, I can't swoop in like Mama used to (these days I could be mistaken for a whack job, baby stealer). I make sure to get an approving nod from the adult then do all I can to get smiles and giggles.

I'm adopted. I have never met someone I'm blood related to but I have grown up to be just like Mama. From my worry-wart mother hen ways to my really bad driving habits (yeah Bren, you're right). It makes me proud to be so much like the woman I admire and stive to make differences with my limited time on this big, spinning rock.

Love doesn't care about DNA.

I Get It..

I remember asking Mama what she wanted to be when she grew up.

She always replied, "A Mommy."

"No," I would persist, "before that. What did you want to BE? A doctor? A lawyer? A vet? A scientist? What?"

"Honey," she would always say, "I wanted to be a Mommy.. it's the most important job."

I would roll my eyes and think that was seriously the lamest answer ev-er. An important job changes lives. It can even save lives. It rocks worlds. It provides. It makes you feel like you've found your reason for being. It completes you. It is exciting. It makes a difference. It makes you someone that will never be forgotten.

Who da thunk she knew that all along. Sometimes the grand scheme of things is just inside your own front door.

I'm fortunate .. I got to eat my words and tell Mama (on more than one occasion) before she passed,

"You were right and I was so wrong."

She would just grin and relish the moment.

Parallel Lives Revisited?

Tomorrow night I am attending a monthly class being given by the county (my darling husband has a work related meeting so I'm flying solo). Although I am taking off an hour early from work I'll barely be making it by the seat of my pants. It's a 40 mile drive with a quickie stop by our house to care for our herd o' dogs. I will surely get stuck mercilessly behind the slowest drivers and hit every red light sequence. Road rage is more of a probability than a possibility and I will be drafting. Should be a hoot.

What I am looking forward to is the meeting itself. In attendance will be other certified fost/adopt and foster families. All are going for the required hours of independant study (we get 2 of the 3 hours needed monthly) and, I can imagine, it's a great time to learn something new, socialize and vent.

THE REALLY REALLY COOL part is that they provide child care in another part of the church during the discussion (social workers are on hand watching the kiddos). J told us that these meetings are going to be a primo opportunity not only for us to get to know the other parents but watch behaviours and meet the kids in foster care. If there is a child (or sibling group) that we are interested in, we can inquire about him/her/both.

Bottom line: I could very well be meeting our future child(ren) tomorrow night. How phenomenal and mind bending is that? I so wish DH could be there...

As per my Lilypie counter on the sidebar over yonder (--->), Tuesday will be 8 months and 2 weeks since we officially began our adoption journey. Legend has it (as per my Dear Auntie) Mama marveled that she met me just about 9 months after she and Dad started their process. She waited just like a Mommy carrying a baby waits. Could this be another case of us having parallel lives once again? I know the thought makes her smile down from Heaven. Time will tell..

The odds are good this is going to be yet another restless-can't-sleep-mind-spinning-tossing-turning kind of night.

My Spin On Nature Versus Nurture

I remember back in the day watching an episode of Sally Jesse (you know, when she was legit and her red specs were all the rage) and being mesmerized by that certain day's topic.. adoptees searching for their birth families. Although not told of their adoption growing up, they just knew waaayy deep down that they didn't "belong" and felt no real connection to the family they grew up in. Their puzzle pieces fell into place when their family finally fessed up and the search for their "real family" began. To this day I remember thinking how empty their lives must have been but come on, their real family was who raised and loved them all those years. It was sad to see them get dissed.

Although the plan from the get go was to tell me of my adoption, a few months after I was placed my parents swore family and friends to secrecy. They had fallen head over heels in love with me and I was their child.. end of discussion. My mom may have been 4'11" and 95 lbs soaking wet (a crazy red head, to boot) but you did not cross her. No doubt, all feared the Hell Fire that would ensue.

Unlike the SJR guests, I never felt unattached from my family or that I didn't belong. I think that is one of the things that really threw me for a loop when I found out. I am so my Mama's daughter (physically and emotionally) it isn't even funny. As an adult I would hold my hand up to hers and marvel at how they were identical (except I could never grow nails and hers were beautiful). I worry like she did, I suffer from "mother hen" syndrome and love to cook and take care of my family and friends like she did.. and I must also admit, I'm a horrible driver just like she was.

I remember the moment like it was yesterday.. Have you ever ridden in a car where the driver taps their foot lightly on the accelerator while cruising along and causes you to lurch forward? I would constantly yell at her I was going to hurl if she didn't stop it and she would declare I was crazy. Fast forward .. my best friend Bren is visiting for New Years and we're headed to LoDo (Lower Downtown Denver) to whup it on and ring in '01. She starts yelling at me that I'm going to make her yak if I don't stop tapping the accelerator. I had to laugh BUT hey, at least I believed her. Now every time I'm the driver and she is the passenger I try to stay on cruise control as much as possible..

Not only do I look like Dad, I act like him, too.

I know the great debate over Nature vs Nurture will rage on forever but my little humble "o" is our personalities are very much the result of who we are raised by. I think we do pick up many character traits (good and bad, obviously) by the people that we are closest to.

That being said, our plan is to let our little ones know they are adopted (if they're too young to remember being placed with us). I'm a firm believer that they should have contact with birth relatives (if it's reasonable and safe to do so) and have no intention of cutting off their family ties if at all possible.

Hopefully we are stronger than Mom and Dad..

My Mom ~ The Original Supernanny..

(Okay, that's a bit of a stretch but I thought it was a cute title)

As I previously wrote, the year after Mama passed away I found out I was adopted by a random comment written in a note from a family friend. Since then, all kinds of stories have surfaced as family and friends have been eager to fill me in on the things that went on back in the day. The flood gates were finally opened.

One story I love in particular is her going to work as a nanny for a family that lived in our town. By trade she was secretary but took time off to learn the ins and outs of working with children and raising a family. We came from a fairly affluent community and some people thought it was extreme (and maybe even a bit demeaning) to be a "household servant" but she didn't care. She was in it for the experience and always said that you can't learn everything from books.. you have to jump in and do it. She met the family through church and they would forge a friendship that would last a lifetime.

The funny part is, I grew up knowing the family she worked for and was obviously clueless to the fact she was their employee. I was under the impression they were family friends (and by all accounts they were--they adored Mama and she them). She "babysat" for them on and off throughout the years and sometimes I would get to join her. I loved when I got to tag along and had a ball with the kids.

My memories of "Mrs. T" are that she was physically stunning, gracious and very kind. They lived in a monstrous home that I actually got lost inside when I went on a solo walk-about and quickly learned to stick close to Mama and the kids. It sat high on a hillside facing east over Los Angeles. We lived on the side of the peninsula that looked out over the ocean and it was always a treat for me to get to see the mass of twinkling city lights after dark. It was a view I wasn't accustomed to and I soaked it up like a sponge - completely mesmerized. Come dusk it was a little ritual to wrap myself in a blanket, sit on the chaise lounge by the pool and watch as LA's night came to life. I remember telling dad it was bigger and better than the Main Street Electrical Parade at Disneyland (and boy howdy, that says a lot coming from a 6 year old).

She was a singer and her husband had a recording studio built in their home. She knew how much I loved to go in there and look around and she always made sure to take me through. It had the biggest, shiniest black piano I have ever seen and sometimes she would tickle the ivories for me. Her album covers adorned the walls in frames and I would have to stop and look at each one (much like a grown up would admire art at a museum). Okay, I was a kooky kid..

I'm so grateful they treated Mama with respect rather than a mere servant. I know in my heart she would have continued to work for them even if they had looked down their noses at her and would have done so with a smile. I'm told she considered it an opportunity of a lifetime to have hands on experience and enjoyed every minute of it.

On top of all the training she was required to take for her certification, she took on this job because she wanted to be the very best Mommy she could be. She always went above and beyond. Not only was my Mom a great teacher but also a willing student. That's an attribute I'm still working on.

Parallel Lives

Exactly 39 years ago, Mom and Dad were floating in the exact adoption boat we in are today. All their classes were completed, the back round checks done, they finished their home study and (I found out recently), Mama actually went to work as a nanny part time to get a handle on being a mommy. They had just received their certification and were awaiting "the call" from the county.

Back then, infertility was an embarrassment and I'm told Mama felt shameful for not being able to carry a baby to term. It wasn't something openly discussed (not in our family, anyway) and adoption was no where near the rage it is nowadays. Things were different back then and, as cold as it sounds today, they wanted a child that looked like them. Although Mom was Mexican, she had auburn hair, brown eyes and freckles and Daddy was a Euro mix with blond hair and blue eyes. They wanted a child that fit into that groove .. Apparently, they didn't want anyone to question my lineage at the grocery store..

In July of 1969, their call came. I was a month old and living in what has been described as a county home. I'm not sure if that was like an orphanage or a foster home. In my non-id info an excerpt from our first meeting was noted. It is written that the moment Mom and Dad saw me there were tears of joy as I was scooped up, held and cooed over. It was love at first sight. Dad's comment was that they were on, "Cloud Nine" and Mama beamed through her tears. The workers gave them my formula, went over my daily routine and loaded Dad down with diapers and other essentials. I went home with them that very day and everyone involved was thrilled.

Fast forward to 2008. Here we sit, waiting for our vote this Wednesday for certification. Another "ancient" couple ready to open their hearts and home to a child (or children). Yet again, I'm wishing Mama was here to be a part of our journey and to hear of hers. It's times like this that make me miss her even more...

Compassion.. Mama's Ongoing Project

One of Mama's many life lessons she wanted to instill in me was compassion:

A profound and positive human emotion prompted by the pain of others. More vigorous than empathy, the feeling commonly gives rise to an active desire to alleviate another's suffering....

During a 2 day training course with the county we did a mock trial of a gal losing her child to the system to get a glimpse of what all goes on. It was based on a true case and was a real eye opener, to say the least. Each of our 4 tables was assigned a task. One was "Tonya" and her lawyers (played by our recruiter who could have won an award for her performance), we were the treatment team that gave the court recommendations of what we saw needed to happen before we would allow her to gain custody of her daughter (with the help of a real social worker because hey, we had no idea what we were doing), one table was the foster home and the other was the judge. Each table had one person speaking for them.

One of the goals of the exercise was to see the birth mom's side, as well. She begged and pleaded for her child back and had every excuse in the book for why she was unable to complete her requirements (no ride to the ua's, had gone to 18 interviews but no one would hire her, everyone was against her, etc). They were flimsy excuses at best and you know judges and social workers hear the same ones all day every day. She started out doing okay but as time went on, it slowly fell apart. Every 90 days when her review came up you could see her starting the slow spiral out of control. In the end, she cried as she relinquished her parental rights and both DH and I were in tears (as were most of the group in training that day). A true story and that plays out every day in courts across the nation.. just heartbreaking.

One aspect of this whole process we do have compassion for is, amazingly enough, the addicted birth parent. Prior to meeting, DH and I both were in a relationship with a person that had substance abuse problems. Have you heard someone say, ".. but they're totally great when they're clean and sober" and you roll your eyes? We actually lived it and, by golly, it's true. They both had children from a previous marriage and would have died for them. Neither had custody (for obvious reasons) and lived for the time they got to spend with their children. Unfortunately, their drug of choice was so beyond more powerful than them that, almost every time their kids were visiting, they would go off on a binge. It's just astounding what complete control the drug has and how it's a wrecking ball through everyones' lives. It's constant drama, to put it lightly.

Although kind of an odd thing to have in common (an ex as an addict), it is one of the many things that brought DH and I together. We both tried to "save someone" and found out the hard way it's impossible to do. We both relish in the calmness of being regular Joe Shmoe Homebodies as we've seen the wild side and have no interest in revisiting that side of the tracks. We did learn, however, that under the horrible and downright mean things an addict does, lies a person that would do anything to quit. They are not the monster but are totally controlled by one.

I remember in the midst of the crazy that was once my life crying out to God, "WHY?!?" and feeling utter hopelessness. Sitting at that table in training with tears in my eyes as "Tonya" begged for her kids back was an, "Ah Ha Moment!" when another of my life's little puzzle pieces fell into place. Compassion had kicked in and both DH and I got it. Had I known back then what I know now it would have made perfect sense. The 6 years of what seemed like endless drama was leading me to that table in the basement of a church for those 2 days of intense training. The Good Lord (and Mama) didn't want me looking down my nose from my high horse at the addicted parent who couldn't provide basic needs but to take pity and have compassion. That was "Why".

We will have to deal with a real "Tonya" sometime soon and I had better keep that shoe and other foot handy..