Movie: Mother and Child

Mother and Child, starring Naomi Watts, Annette Bening, and Kerry Washington

A drama centered around three women: A 50-year-old woman, the daughter she gave up for adoption 35 years ago, and an African American woman looking to adopt a child of her own. (synopsis from imbd.com)

When this movie arrived in the mail I thought it was a mistake.  I was expecting Season 3 of Breaking Bad and didn't even remember putting this in my queue.  I read the synopsis and see it is about adoption. Oh, of course this is something I would put in my queue.  Adoption is totally my thing, especially this year.  One of the first scenes shows an adoptee on a job interview.  She gets asked the Tell me something personal about yourself and she answers with her story of being adopted at birth.  Hmmm, this sounds very familiar.  This happened to me! How could it be in a movie already?  But why when it happened to me did it feel like a disaster?  I suppose it is because the question I was asked was only slightly different Tell me about yourself, lacking the invitation for that something personal.   
The movie worth a watch.  I found it accurately depicted emotions involved with various aspects of adoption from the birth mother, to the adoptee, to the adoptive parents.  I'd be interested to hear the view someone has on the movie who has not been involved in the adoption process.   I think it is worth a watch. 

Annie, I don't need anything but you

Annie was on TV a few nights ago.  Of course I own the DVD, but there is something about it being on television that makes it extra exciting.  Annie is the first musical I saw on stage and I have the Playbill hung in my home. I love this story. My phone started blowing up with text messages from friends alerting me that it was on ABC Family (most of these friends have kids ).    So there I spent the rest of my night singing and dancing along and knowing every line just about word for word.  

"Leapin' Lizards!"

"Oh Punjab, help!"

"A child without courage is like a night without stars!" 

Then came the final scene of Daddy Warbucks and Annie singing a duet while tap dancing, holding hands, and it hit me.  I unexpectedly found it somewhat disturbing.  I wonder how Annie ended up?  She must be kinda messed up, right?  I mean after singing and tap dancing with her new rich Daddy I don't need anyone but you?  It must have given her a big head.  No way this girl is married and if she is the poor husband. How could he live up to Daddy Warbucks?

Warbucks & Annie: Together at last, together forever. We're tying a knot, that never can sever

Warbucks: I don't need sunshine now to turn my skies a blue

Warbucks & Annie:  I don't need anything but you

Warbucks: You've wrapped me around, that cute little finger.  You've made life a song.  You've made me the singer

Annie:  And what's the bathtub tune? You always bu-bu-boo

Warbucks & Annie:  Bu-bu-bu, anything but you

I've seen this move more times then I can count, and this time I saw it in a new light. Funny how as we age we see things differently. 

Love happens when you least expect it

My Mom doesn’t like for me to worry, so when I got the call from her I knew it was worse than she made it out to be. She has suffered with severe migraine headaches her entire life and rarely complains.
"I woke up with a severe pain in my neck a few days ago and it is getting worse.  It really hurts.  I had the neighbor take me to the emergency room and they did some tests which didn't show much.  It is probably a pinched nerve." She said.
We live a four hour drive apart.  Hearing that she called the neighbor to take her to the emergency room tugged at my heart strings.  I wanted to be there for her.  I hated knowing she was alone and that she waited until after the fact to tell me. 
My Mom and I have a very close relationship.  She divorced my Dad when I was a baby and raised me as a single mom.  I would see my Dad every other weekend, but for the most part it was her and I.  She is an only child and I am her only child.  Fifteen years after divorcing my Dad she remarried a wonderful, loving man whom she adored.  Tragically after two years of marriage, he passed away in a horrific car accident.  My greatest wish for her was to find love again. 
For the past five years, she has been living and caring for my Nonie (grandmother) who suffers from Alzheimer's disease.   She does this while still working an 8-5pm job.  She has little time for relaxing let a alone trying to date. 
"I called in sick to work," She said, "It is getting worse."
I instantly went into crisis mode.   I prepared myself for the worse.  It was Tuesday and I didn't plan on heading to town until Friday.  I figured I should try and spread out my work vacation days, since I didn't know what I was dealing with yet.
I had her dictate her insurance information over the phone to me, and I began my quest to make doctors appointments for her. I'm not an organized person but knew this was a time I needed to get my shit together.  My first instinct was to get her into see an Orthopedist, specifically a spine surgeon.  I called a retired orthopedist I happened to know in the area.  He graciously made a few phone favors to fellow orthopedists and got her into see an orthopedist that day.  Having little to no family, I reached out to my friends, many who I consider family. 
It was a Tuesday so my options were limited with who to call on such short notice and who wouldn't be working an 8-5pm job.  My dear friend Sam rose to the occasion and headed over to chauffeur Mom to her appointment.  She called me after dropping my Mom back off at home to give me a run down on the appointment.
"She really isn't feeling well.  She had a hard time opening the car door, and I filled out all of her paper work for her.  Both of her hands are swollen.  I think you need to come to town as soon as you can." Sam said.
Until this point I had no knowledge of swelling in her hands.  I thought it was just her neck.
The orthopedist ordered an MRI, but agreed it was probably a pinched nerve.  He gave her something for the pain. 
I drove down to town, telling Husband to stay back this time.  Had I known what I was about to walk into, I would have made sure he was with me.  The house was a mess.  Mom lay on the couch with her arms prepped up.  She had a hard time speaking.  She hadn't showered in days and wore pajamas, the same pajamas for days.
Nonie lay in bed still asleep from the night before.  It was 6pm.  I tried easing her out of a sleep with no luck.  After a few shakes and loud yells she awoke.  I escorted her out of bed, realizing how weak she was.  She had a hard time walking and mumbled, but no longer able to speak words.  This was a significant decline since the last time I had seen her a month earlier.  The Alzheimer's had reached what appeared to be its final stages.  This caught me totally of guard.  I expected Mom's illness, but not the drastic decline in Nonie's. 
"I'm so glad you are here," Mom said, reaching for my hand. 
I officially went into full blown crisis mode.  No time for tears and worrying, but time to make things happen. I'm a pro in crisis.  Everyday life often stumps me, but during crisis I am a superhero.
Mom was my first priority.  I wanted to make her as comfortable as possible while I was able to be there.  Her body wouldn't allow her to do the everyday things like holding a fork to feed herself without assistance.  I came up with a plan, enlisting friends to help while I traveled back and forth to help.  This went on for weeks while we searched for an accurate diagnosis.  We went from one specialist to another, getting no answers and no pain relief for Mom. Friends kindly transported Mom to and from doctors visits, brought over meals, and helped out in whatever way we needed.  However, one day I found myself desperately trying to find someone last minute to pick my Mom up from the hospital after a day of testings.  She was weak, and drugged.  It was 2:30pm in the afternoon on a weekday and I was running out of options.  There are only so many favors I felt comfortable asking friends for and felt like I was running out of people to call.  In a moment of desperation I called John, my BiologicalMaternalGrandfather.  He jumped at the opportunity to help us out.  He was retired and lived right down the street from the medical center. 
"Mom, this might be really uncomfortable.  John, my BiologicalMaternalGrandfather is picking you up.  He is a short, bald man and will be driving a red mini-van.  I promise he will be super nice," I told her.
She was so out of it I hardly got a reaction from her.  John called me after dropping Mom off.
"Mom is safetly at home.  Is it okay with you if I bring them dinner?  I want to help in anyway I can," He said.
I felt like I had hit the jackpot.  Of course I would accept his help and I didn't feel bad asking him knowing he was retired and widowed.  After this round of testing we finally got answers.  Mom has Scleroderma, a disease that causes tightening of the skin making it difficult if nearly impossible to move without proper treatment.  After the diagnosis (phew! not cancer!), treatment started and she was feeling better within a week.
Two months after getting a diagnosis, I got a call from Mom on a Sunday afternoon.
"I have something to tell you.  I've fallen in love and I am getting married.  I am very happy," Mom said.
"What? I didn't even know you were dating anyone.  How have you even had time?  Wait...what?  Seriously, who is it?" I ask very confused.
"John," She said.
And there it was.  I started laughing hysterically not knowing how else to react.  Could this really be happening?  My Mom marrying my BiologicalMaternalGrandfather?  They are only 5 years apart in age, so it isn't that far of a stretch.
"That is wonderful Mom! I am so happy you both found someone.  It is just really crazy, weird," I said.
"Really, are you okay with this?" She asked.
"Of course! Just know that I am going to tell everyone I know." I said.  And since that day, I have done just that. 

Phone call takes a new direction

I talk to my biological paternal grandmother a few times a year.  BioPaternalGrandma is awesome.  She owned a very successful dance studio for girls and recently retired.  I admire and envy her for living a life making a living doing what she loved.  She is seventy years old and has perfectly graceful body with ballerina posture.  I wish I had inherited her physique, and grace.  I do, however, think I inherited her love of dance and music.  Unfortunately, I have no coordination so being a professional dancer of any kind was never in the cards for me.  As I pranced and did my version of ballerina moves around my apartment to Adele's Someone Like You (one of my current favorite choices for releasing myinnercheerleader), I became aware that I truly was born with a love for dancing.  It came from BioPaternalGrandma.  I paused the ipod and picked up the phone.  I was going to tell her.  Surely she would be impressed and proud to hear that her thirty year old granddaughter dances around her apartment alone as inspiration and to feel alive.  She answered the phone very excited to hear from me.   As soon as I heard her voice I realized how ridiculous my news would sound to her.  Still, I tried to get the words out and just couldn't.  Instead, I resorted to the ever entertaining standby of telling stories of the recent wedding of my Mom to my BiologicalMaternalGrandfather.  I never told her about myinnercheerleader and hung up wondering why I even wanted to in the first place.  Maybe I was looking to connect with her or even impress her (if she could only see my sweet dance moves)?  Maybe this is a trait of adoptees, trying to find links in our personality, features and everything else to those biologically linked to us.  I don't have the answer, but it certainly made me think. 

I am once again having trouble controlling my mouth.  When people ask what has been going on or how am I doing I actually tell them the truth instead of giving a simple "Oh not too much" answer they are expecting.  The truth takes them by surprise. 

"My mom married my grandfather.  Its legal and everything.  I was adopted as a baby.  So technically it is the woman who adopted me marrying the man whose daughter gave birth to me. It really isn't gross if you think about it."  

Exactly how am I expecting people to react to this?  I laugh loudly each time I say it, especially when people react super serious.  I am noticing my laughter makes people even more uncomfortable.  What is possessing me to do this?  I was on a conference call with someone half way across the country who I have only met once in person.  I found it necessary to tell her exactly what is going on with me.  As the words start coming out of my mouth I realize how ridiculous I sound as a thirty year old woman telling this story, but there is no turning back now.  This is something I've struggled with throughout my life, but am finding increasingly problematic as I age.  When I was younger my age could be used as an excuse, but now I am turning into the crazy lady.  My goal for the next day is to refrain from telling strangers and acquaintances my personal stories. Think I will be able to do it?  Yeah, me neither. 

Crazy, Weird, Happy

I'll be the first to admit, I can be very immature.  This weekend was no exception. My Mom got remarried in Las Vegas.  This is my Mom's 3rd marriage.  My Dad and her divorced, her second husband and dear step-father passed away in a car accident, making this her third go round.  I prayed and prayed for my mom to find love again, and truly am thrilled for her.  

I'm used to a life where it is just my Mom and I (and of course now Husband).  I am used to being the one looking out for her and helping her with decisions.  With her new husband in the mix it adds a new dynamic.  Her new man, let's call him John, is a wonderful, kind, man who is head over heals in love with her.  I've never seen a man worship the ground my mother walks on like John.  They met and were engaged in less than two months.  I like a man who knows what he wants.  Here is the kicker.  Now prepare yourself, because your head might start spinning a bit.  
As I've mentioned before I was adopted at birth, not orphan Annie style, so please no sympathy.   My adoption was closed which means I had no contact with the biological family. Just so nobody is confused, when I refer to my Mom this is the woman who adopted and raised me and who I consider my one and only mother.  A few years ago, my biological family made contact with me.  Earlier this year, my Mom and John met.   John is my biological maternal grandfather.  That's right.  My mother married my grandfather. They are 5 years apart in age.   John's daughter gave birth to me almost 31 years ago.  Crazy, weird, and very happy story. 
So needless to say, it was a surreal weekend.  The celebration consisted of Mom, John, Husband, Me, Jules (John's sister) and Jim (John's step-son).  Husband had the honor walking my Mom down the aisle.  When the minister asked him who gives this bride away he froze unprepared for such a questions.  He looks at me desperate for help with the answer.  I mouthed to him to just say I do.  He stumbles a bit and manages to get the words out of his mouth laughing at the same time.  During photos after the ceremony the photographer asks "Now who belongs to who?,"  Looking at me he continues, "Now, this must be your Mom because you two look alike, but huh, you also kinda have your new step-dad's eyes."  
I burst out into laughter as I normally do in uncomfortable situations.  Mind you nobody else is cracking a smile.  My mom just nodes her head and answers that she is my mother and that is that.   
The photographer takes my Mom and John aside for pictures.  From the corner of my eye I notice John kissing on my Mother's neck.  Now, I've come to realize no matter how old you get, you never get comfortable seeing your Mom involved with public displays of affection.  This wasn't a peck he is giving her. He is practically giving her a hickey in the Vegas wedding chapel.  The photographer steps over gently pulling John off of her.  John has a huge grin on his face.  I'm not sure how my face looked, but I'm pretty sure it was not a smile.  
We sit down for dinner and I decide I deserve a glass of wine tonight.  I rarely drink and cannot hold my alcohol to save my life.  Give me one drink and I will tell you anything you want to know.   I no longer have secrets because I have at one point or another let them all out after one drink or so.  Jim raises his glass to give a toast.  It is thoughtful, touching, and appropriate.  When he is done, I take the cue to give a toast.  I have nothing prepared.  I only thought about getting myself through the evening, I didn't even think about needing to give a toast.  My toast went something like this.
"Well, I didn't have anything prepared, but I guess I should say a few words.  This is some crazy ass weird monkey shit (not sure why I threw a monkey in there).  I officially realized God has a greater plan and we have no control over life after this situation here. (at this point I feel husband's hand on my arm signaling I should wrap it up) I'm very happy you two found each other and I wish you a lifetime of happiness. Cheers!"  
Hmmm, no response from the audience.  Strange.  Not one of my better toasts but I figured it could have been worse. Overall it was  great weekend, but I still am in disbelief that my mother married my biological grandfather.  Once again reminded that I have little to no control in life. 

Beware: Adoption should not cause years of therapy

It seems everywhere I turn adoption is brought to my attention.  Whether it is the Facebook ads promoting adoption as an option for me, my own experience as an adoptee or somehow brought up in a television show.  My gripe today is with the television shows.  I watched 3 shows last night all bring up adoption as a sappy, struggle.  Okay, for the birth parents, especially the birth mother I totally sympathize.  Giving up your newborn child sounds like one of the hardest things to go through.  Just thinking about giving away my dog to new owners brings tears to my eyes.  However, when it comes to being an adoptee I don't want to hear it.  I am an adoptee and I am here to tell you first hand it is nothing to bitch about.  Sure, I have some crazy ass stories, some might come across sad, but it is nothing to feel pity upon adoptees for (or at least those adopted as babies). Images of little orphan Annie (still one of my favorite musicals) are not an accurate depiction of the process.   I had the privilege of being raised by parents who genuinely, desperately wanted me in their life.  I have participated in my share of therapy and sure here and there stories related to being adopted came up, but for the most part it is a breeze. Do not fall victim to these messages of adoption being full of heartache, remorse and years of therapy.  It is a positive, life experience full of joy and a lifetime of stories.

Thirty years old and yes I am adopted

I know there must have been a time in my life that I was able to have a conversation without mentioning that I was adopted, but lately I seem to be having trouble with it.  After the "I was adopted" comment falls out of my mouth I realize there is no need for a thirty year old woman to mention this during an everyday conversation, yet there I find myself doing it again.  Old friends expect this kind of comment from me, but new folks I encounter are caught off guard.  They tend to give me a very serious look when most of the time I am looking for a laugh.  Over the weekend I had yet another incident.  We were out celebrating a friend's thirtieth birthday.  One of our friends brought his new girlfriend, and this is the poor soul I dropped the "I was adopted" line on.  A discussion started on what Dallas is known for- the Dallas Cowboys, JFK, and the classic television show Dallas.  

In retrospect I should have nodded my head in agreement, but instead I take the opportunity to tell one of my stories.  

"Larry Hagman's  (JR Euing from Dallas) sister lived next door to my parents when I was born.  Since they weren't prepared when I was born, she brought over a baby crib to help out.  I slept in Larry Hagman's baby crib as a baby," I said. 

I could have stopped here and it still would have been a perfectly normal story, but I continued. 

"My parent's weren't prepared because I was adopted.  They got a call and headed up to the hospital to pick me up.  I was just a day or so old.  It wasn't like I was an orphan or anything," I said looking at the new girlfriend of my friend.  She starred at me with a confused look and somewhat sad eyes.  It was obvious she didn't know how to react and I don't know what kind of reaction I was expecting.  As soon as I said it I wish I hadn't.  Once again, lesson learned.  Try and control my adopted mouth.