I'm a grandma!

The other day I picked M up from school and we headed down to the library, only to find that it didn't open for another 45 minutes. We decided to kill some time by going to Taco Bell for lunch. M was in a great mood and was very well behaved. This day she didn't go out of her way to engage those around us, but I kid you not when I say that she interacted with virtually every one in the dining room. Everywhere I looked people were smiling, winking and waving to my little girl. One woman told me that she must have gone back for a second helping of cute.

While we were sitting and eating, I noticed one of my co-workers in a nearby booth so I talked to him briefly about his recent promotion and upcoming relocation, and then we all went back to eating. When he got up to leave, he stopped by our table and asked if I was with my granddaughter. Thinking that I couldn't have heard him correctly, I asked him to repeat himself. Again he asked if M was my granddaughter, to which I replied that no, she was my daughter and he continued out of the restaurant without further exchange.

I may have been a bit haughty in my reply, although I was more surprised at his question than offended, and within seconds I found it all rather funny. I quickly dialed one of my friends at work and relayed the tale to her, which she also found quite hilarious. I heard a nearby diner giggling as she overheard my phone conversation, which helped reassure me that I'm not delusional in thinking it's a bit of a stretch to make me a grandma already.

I think part of the reason I was so surprised was because this co-worker used to sit in close proximity to me, and we had discussed that he had gone to high school with my husband's younger brother. While I'm pretty sure he must have been kicking himself as he was leaving, I kept pondering why he would have assumed I was M's grandmother. Perhaps he was confusing me with someone else at work that he knows is a grandma? While it wouldn't be under desirable circumstances, it is technically possible that I could have a young grandchild. Maybe he has other friends in their late 30s that are grandparents. Or what I have decided could be the most likely reason is that he simply failed to consider that two caucasian parents could have a child of color.

As M gets older, it seems like the difference in our family's coloring comes up a little more often. A few weeks ago the girls were playing on a play structure in a neighborhood playground (not ours) that is on the way home from school. Another girl a few years older than C came and joined them, and we mentioned that she had the same first name as one of the girls' cousins. After another 10 minutes of play she asked if the girls were cousins. I told her that no, they were sisters. Sensing her confusion, C explained on her own that they were adopted. Then we had to clarify that both girls were adopted. Surprisingly she inquired about my infertility, but phrased it somehow about not being able to have kids of my own. While I confirmed that I could not give birth to my kids, I explained that adoption is a beautiful way to build a family and how it is a win-win situation for both the children that need parents to raise them, and the parents who want to have children - to which C heartily agreed. I hope that taking the time to have conversations with other kids will help plant the seeds for a positive view of adoption.

While adoption is not a daily topic in our household, it does come up regularly. C is now the most likely to bring it up and she goes thru cycles where she has many questions for days or weeks in a row, and then she's done with the topic for awhile. M has never shown much interest in the topic (neither did C at this age), so I was surprised the other day when she brought it up out of the blue. We were looking at shoes at the store when she became agitated and told me that she didn't want to come from someone else's tummy, she wanted to come from my tummy. I told her that I appreciate that she feels that way, but that it didn't really matter whose tummy she came from, I still got to be her mother! She calmed down and then asked if she was born in America. Yes, I said, you were born in American Samoa. Then she asked if she cried. I verified that she meant A, and supplied her once again with her birthmothers name. I told her that A did cry, but that A told me she was crying not out of sadness, rather because she was happy for M. A was crying because she was giving M a life that she couldn't have given her herself. She was happy because she knew that M was going to have two parents and a sister that loved her, and a comfortable home, and that she would have many more opportunities available to her than if she had grown up on the island.

And then, as suddenly as the topic came up, she moved on to something else. Who knew that I'd get all teary eyes while browsing for shoes! The whole exchange probably only lasted five minutes, but I loved having the opportunity to talk to her about her adoption and was very pleased that she was showing an interest. She must have liked what she heard, because the next few nights when I put her to bed she would ask me again why A cried.