i'm black

It may be important to preface this for any first time readers with ~ My son is adopted.  He is African American / Native American.  We are Caucasian parents. 

Sitting with Espen at the lunch table I was point blank asked by a peer "why did you adopt a black baby, you're white".... I was stumped and surprised but covered it up really fast with my "I just wanted a family, it makes no difference what he looks like" answer.  I applauded her curiosity and appreciated her ability to ask a question adults would never dream of. 

This peer was not finished asking me questions... wanted to know how Espen got black, why I adopted him again and why did I adopt in general.  I always believe in honest answers and gave her the best ones I could at that moment.  The other children were listening to this exchange.  Especially Espen (who knows he is adopted). 

This lovely little girl went on to tell me an amazing account of her life ~ complete with being left alone and adopted by a "black mom" ~ all of which I learn are far from the truth.  But she was convincing and I listened.  Then I just encouraged them to all EAT YOUR LUNCH!

To my credit as a mom we recognize and talk about adoption.  We talk about why we adopted, how it happened and where he came from.  We talk about how families are different and come from different places.  We talk about his birth mom, Tia, her difficult choices and the gift of love.  We talk about all the people who loved him to make our adoption happen.  We talk about our own choices in hair (he is currently in Mohawk again), clothes, words and actions.  We must never talk about him as "black".  He is just my son....

So imagine my suppressed giggle when after listening to this whole exchange with his peer, he leaned really close to me and said "mom AM I BLACK".  My response didn't even matter because he was off to the rest of his day and it never came back up.  It seems we need to give some acknowledgement of his roots.  Never are we ashamed of his heritage, to us, he is just our son... the most amazing gift in the world. 

It is more important to teach our child how to be who he is not what color he is.  We focus on his talents, skills and knowledge not on his color.  We provide him with every imaginable shade and shape of toy that stimulate his imagination and creativity.  We tell him all about what we know of Tia and we do so with respect for her choices and understanding of how hard those choices were.  We must positively demonstrate how to look past what people look like and focus on other qualities. 

We teach him how to be Espen... because he is AMAZING! 

my feet hurt...

Now that I have had some hours to calm down I can focus.  What happened today made me cry and get angry.  It made me want to leave this neighborhood and state in a quick hurry.  It made my trust of humanity dwindle even further.  It made me feel like no matter what I do, how hard I work, the lengths I go to... I will struggle to keep my son safe.  It made me mad at Espen and all the THINGS happening inside of him.  And it made my feet hurt.

He got into bed with me at 4:00am with the words "I miss you mommy" and I spent the next few hours listening to him sleep and fighting off a bothersome cat (who at 5:46am threw up in my brand new, only worn once TOMS shoes... UGH).  I just loved him.  When he got up I struggled out of bed to make him breakfast (anyone who knows me knows I hate mornings).   I played and played ... exactly and only what he wanted to play.  I didn't add my desires into what he wanted ~ a hard task to do but one we learned from counseling.  We had lunch and he had COLORED popsicles.  After a week of very limited sugar and no coloring, I gave in and he was allowed two of the worlds most delicious popsicles. 

He played in the water (the sun was shining so it was clearly warm enough!).  He was riding his little ATV and we were having a grand time playing on it.  Suddenly he drove it to the neighbors driveway got it stuck and got off.  He TOOK OFF RUNNING.  He was wet and had no shoes on.  I called him and grabbed the ATV out of the neighbors driveway.  By the time I looked back to him he was quickly sprinting away from home.  He had a really good lead on me.  Never in my wildest dreams did I expect this to happen. 

I took off after him IN MY FLIP FLOPS.  He made it to the end of our street and turned the corner.  It is the path we go to school so I know he knows it.  I was moving fast but this 5 year old was hauling ass.  By the time I got to the corner, he was nearly to the next one (I had been on uphill, he was on downhill).  I was yelling for him.  He glanced back a couple times but kept going.  He was just running and running very fast.  I tried in vain to call my husband who was calmly in the garage listening to music and working on a wood project.  I tried 3 times.  I was stressed.  Scared.  MAD. 

How dare this little boy take off and run.  How dare he look at me and just keep going.  What the hell does he think he is doing.  Why are NONE of the neighbors who see him coming stopping a barefoot, wet child who is RUNNING with no adult in sight.  I can't see him what if he cuts into a yard or goes inside a house.  WHAT IF SOMEONE TAKES HIM.  Why is my flipping husband not answering his flipping phone.  ~ All these thoughts were racing in my head...

The little boy made it all the way up the hill, .60 miles to the school, around the back of the school and stopped for a breather on the swing before I nabbed him.  I was FUMING.  I was scared. I nearly had my best time sprinting that distance.  I was nearly ready to beat the tar out of him. 

I held his hand and marched him all the way home.  He screamed at me.  I screamed back.  His response was he left because he was mad at being stuck on the ATV.  Yes he saw me but he said his body just told him to run and that was all he could think on.  He had no destination but said he felt like he was going to keep running.  He has no empathy or comprehension for the fear I was feeling.  His body just was in GO mode... his fight or flight response was simply flight.

He had 30 minutes in his room alone.  I removed ALL the toys and anything that looked remotely fun. I had 30 minutes without him.  I cried.  And fumed.  And was mad.  And my feet hurt....

After his time out, he and I talked (because I had not done enough of it on the way home). I simply explained to him how it made me feel.  I explained there are consequences for every action.  He is grounded for a week from any play with anyone outside of school ~ we won't even be going to the park on our own.  He is not allowed to do anything extra this week.  His ipad is limited.  And he is cut off from sugar (mostly colored) until I am stupid enough to let him try again. 

During his 30 minute time out I was fuming mad.  I was frustrated at how NO ONE STOPPED HIM.  Doug's claim that people will always turn a blind eye and never want to get involved seems to be the truth.  I was upset about what kind of world we live in.  I was fearful that no matter how good I think I am, if his flight instinct kicks in, I am not sure I can keep him safe.  He is fast.  And he has stamina.  And gosh dam he just powered his little barefoot body .60 mile uphill and I felt completely out of shape and shamed.  He crossed streets ~ he could be hit by a car.  He was not in my sight line ~ someone could snatch him.  He could vanish and as hard as I was trying to get there ~ I MIGHT BE TO LATE.  And so I sobbed. 

Because I don't know that he will "get it" now or in 5 more times.  Because I don't know what I can do differently.  Because I give him ALL I HAVE, I'm exhausted and drained (lack of sleep, constant play, non stop talking) and yet it seems like I have to dig deeper to find even more to give.  Because he is 5 and fast what happens at age 6 or 10 or 15?  Because we live in a flipping society of "turn the other cheek" and it is horrible. 

I sobbed because my child is "wired" differently and even seeing me behind him, his brain would not flip over to STOP.  And honestly it SUCKS.  It sucks that his brain is just different.  It sucks that I suspect artificial color messes him up even further.  It is not an excuse ~ I am not giving him a free pass to just be a naughty child.  It sucks because even at the end of the night and I read a book about staying with mommy no matter how your body feels, he can not relate that to himself.  This was not a naughty plot or play... this is just our life.  And that is not an excuse for naughty behavior....