Loading...

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Oh So You Run a Daycare???? Huh?

I took the Divas to the park yesterday, cause really I am trying to avoid cleaning the house. Wait: Segue for a second for house rant!!!

WHYYYYYYYYY Can't my house stay clean. I am so.over.it! Grrr. I spent most of Saturday, sweating, scrubbing, cleaning and organizing stuff....and today, only Tuesday...it is an absolute MESS. I am exhausted, have 25 pages to write and another blog and yet...all I can see is mess everywhere and I am blah...grrr. RUFFF! Okay...back to it.

So, we are at the park and we are playing, just ya know...playing. My kids have called me mom many times and I have come a runnin', I was pushing swings, picking sand out of hair, wiping two drippy noses, you know the stuff us MOMS do...and I hear from behind me...

LADY: "Do you run a daycare or something?"

I look at her and say.

MD: "huh?"

She continues with...

LADY: "Are you a babysitter or something?"

Now this is a middle aged woman, not a teenager. I simply note that she is being rather intrusive and answers.

MD: "These are my kids."

Hoping this will be the end of the conversation.

LADY: (Nope, not the end of the conversation) Those two right there?

MD: (thinking: Are you a freaking IDIOT, as Big Diva is quipping Mommy Mommy Mommy like a chirping squirrel) Yes.

LADY: The little black girls?

MD: (OH FOR GOD SAKES WOMAN!!!! YES THE BLACK GIRLS) Yes.

LADY: Are they yours?

MD: (WHAT DID I JUST SAY?) Yes.

LADY: How old are they?

MD: (strange conversational turn but okay, I go there) 2 and 5

LADY: Your oldest is FIVE???? She looks like she's seven.

MD: I know, she's tall and smart.

LADY: Really, Five huh, wow. Really? (she is now looking at me like there is no way I know the exact age of my daughter).

MD: Yep. 5!

LADY: Hmmmm.

MD: (To Divas) Girls, its just about time to go home (or get away from weird playground lady)

LADY: This is my son (introduces tall teenager)

MD: He's tall too.

LADY: Yes, he's my youngest.

MD: (Yeah you.) Ahhh sweet.

LADY: So are they from Africa?"

MD: (OH HOLY MOTHER FUCKING GOD ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????)No. Los Angeles.

LADY: (wearing perplexed look) Ahhh, really? And they're yours?

MD: (Good bye) Yes. (Decides that this might just get more painful so say) I adopted them.

LADY (look of anguish releases into a warm smile) That is so amazing, more people should help kids like that. You are so amazing, those poor little girls and they are so cute too.

MR: (GRRRRRR) Yeah okay, well, time to go, come on girls lets go.

While rounding up kids, I hear the woman go on and on about the girls and adoption. I didn't hear too much of it, but enough to know that this was something she just needed to hash out with her tall son.

So, it certainly wasn't horrible and I know that we look odd to a lot of people, but its not hard to guess what's going on and really you don't have to know other than your curiosity dictates that you know.

Plus, my kids are NOT POOR LITTLE GIRLS...not in the slightest. So please, don't refer to them as such. In fact if you were lucky enough to spend anytime with my "poor little children" you would probably be treated to some sort of singing and dancing performance that would quickly segue into them charming you into fetching them things and doing just as they directed you to do. They will charm you, my poor little children, then use their wit, beauty and glowing personalities to have you buy them things, get them things, become a human jungle gym, etc. So, while you are envisioning some starving child on the Savannah just about to be eaten by a hungry tiger, my kids are thinking about how they are going to get you to toss them over your head one more time. My kids are leaders, fashionistas, gourmands, rock stars, artists and more importantly CEO's of their existence and they are not, nor ever have been "poor little things" SO THERE!

I have to confess to being curious as well when I have seen families like ours and am always a little surprised when they don't want to be buddies or share the secret "I adopted my kids" wink with each other. So I get it.

But there was another mom at the playground who was dying to know as well, she heard all of the stuff, said that Little Diva was stunning, asked if it was hard to get sand out of her hair, which it is and she had just poured a bucket of it on her head, so yeah, very hard. And I did strike up a friendship with this lady and we will probably see her again. This was tactful and nice and respectful of our family and my privacy.

I admit to being curious about people and their families, but just because I adopted kids, that look like they are adopted, doesn't mean that our story or our lives are for strangers to dissect.

And I am not at all ashamed of or afraid to talk about adoption, in fact I often use it as a means to recruit more people to it, but Big Diva is over adoption talk, she's just my kid and she doesn't want it hashed out on the playground and I agree with her. I'm fine sharing, but she's getting to an age where she isn't...so I want to mindful of her needs and Little Diva's as they grow. But it was weird....and normal, and weirdly our normal to be called out in public like that.

No comments:

Post a Comment