Kristin Bair O'Keeffe: Writer. Mom. Teacher. Traveler.

How (Not) to Talk to Adoptive Families: Part V

"How (Not) to Talk to Adoptive Families" is, unfortunately, an ongoing series. If you haven't read parts I-IV, click here, here, here & here.

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A few weeks ago, my husband, daughter, and I were eating lunch at my favorite diner in Newburyport, and things were going along nicely--great eggs and sausage, happy chatter with our almost-three-year-old, back in our old stomping ground, no major tantrums, etc. Then halfway through the meal, two women and an elevenish-year-old girl sat down at the table next to us, and almost immediately, the older, blondish woman initiated what I call the "inquisitive stare" stage of trying to make sense of our family dynamic.

First, she took a long look at Tully, our daughter from Vietnam, and then an even loooonnngggger look at me and my husband, two folks quite obviously not from Vietnam. After assessing things for about seven minutes (enough time for me to finish one-half of my most-delicious grilled English muffin), the woman started doing the thing that almost always annoys the piss out of me...trying to meet my eyes because now that she'd gathered enough information and assessed the situation, she had something to say or ask.

But I didn't want to hear it. I wanted to eat the other half of my most-delicious grilled English muffin, enjoy the time with my family, and do my best to keep Tully's chocolate milk from spilling all over the table.

Unfortunately, the woman would have none of that. Eventually she wedged her way into our meal with casual comments about Tully: "She's darling." (Thank you.) "She really likes pancakes." (Yep.) "Is she going to eat all that bacon?" (Yes, indeed she is.)

And so on.

Thankfully, the woman had enough smarts to keep her real question to herself until my husband and daughter headed for the door ahead of me, but as soon as they were, she swooped in like an osprey going after a trout...talons first.

"When did you get her?" she said.

"Excuse me?" I said, delaying the inevitable.

"When did you get her?" she repeated, this time wagging her thumb at the door through which my husband and daughter had thankfully disappeared.

When did I GET my daughter? GET her? Seriously?

As I took a deep breath, I silently asked myself how wrong it would be to pour what remained of my daughter's chocolate milk over this woman's head. Very wrong? A little bit wrong? Not so wrong at all?

"Our daughter," I said, modeling adoption-friendly language in the same way I model proper sentence construction for my daughter, "came home when she was eight months old."

Then I turned my back and left, deciding that very wrong was the right answer to the chocolate milk question.

I kept my answer to this woman's question short, but here's the long version for anyone who's wondering:

You do not GET a child.

 

You get bangs.

You get taller.

You get an appointment.

You get a dog.

You get laid.

You get lucky.

You get UGG boots.

You get a new job.

You get a "B" on a test.

You get thirsty.

You get hungry.

You get pepperoni on your pizza.

You get here.

You get there.

You get a pogo stick for your birthday.

You get paid.

You get on a plane.

You get on a train.

You get in a car.

You get a margarita.

You get a glass of wine.

You get calls from telemarketers.

You get an engagement ring.

You get a foot of snow.

You get email.

You get the flu.

You get the common cold.

You get mad.

 

But you do not GET a child.

 

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Photo by Liz Noffsinger / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

10 Back-To-Work Strategies for the Repatriated Writer

If you're a regular here at "My Far-Flung Life," you know that I haven't been getting much work done since late last summer when my family got news that we would be moving back to the U.S. from China (after nearly 5 years in Shanghai). At that point, my writing/work life pretty much came to a screeching/hollering/ba-ba-ba-banging halt.

Since then, instead of hunkering down at my desk every day, I've been "transitioning"--me, my daughter, my husband, our stuff, our life, our grocery store purchases, our snow boot supply, our...(you get the picture).

But today--January 3, 2011--my almost-three-year-old started preschool and I once again have a handful of sacred, silent hours to work.

Aaaahhhh! Sweet writing/working time.

And in the same breath...uuuuuuuggghhhhhhhh! Holy *#(!, I have way too much work to catch up on, like:

• four-month-old emails that I never answered (sorry, sorry, sorry if you're one of these!)
• an outdated website to update (cringe)
• two online courses to design, write, and publicize
• a novel to polish & send out
• writing students to connect with
• on and on it goes...

But honestly, after such a long hiatus, I've got no rhythm. I'm sitting here at my desk staring at the shadows the sun is making on the wall and getting absolutely nothing done. All of which got me thinking about what boosts my productivity and gets me working. Surprise, surprise, I got a list:

1. Make a to-do list.
2. Ignore the 20 or so boxes of stuff from China stacked up around you...the ones you really need to unpack but are NOT going to unpack right now. (Remember, you are working.)
3. Read whatever you're writing out loud. (I just read that out loud. The more I read out loud, the deeper I go into my work. It works, I promise.)
4. Sit cross-legged on your chair. (A must! I cannot work with my feet on the floor.)
5. Focus. Choose one of the gazillion projects on your plate and stay with it. (Forget multi-tasking right now...you're not up for it.)
6. DO NOT LOG ONTO TWITTER!!!!! (Did you hear me? DO NOT LOG ONTO TWITTER!)
7. When you get the urge to call your daughter's preschool to check on her, first look at the clock. If no more than seven minutes have passed since the last time you called to check on her, DO NOT CALL. If an hour or more has passed, go ahead...make the call. Then get your arse back to work.
8. Read something you wrote that works...that you feel good about. (Make sure it's short.) Get inspired. You are pretty darn good at this, you know.
9. Hang a "You love writing!" sign on the wall over your computer. Because you do.
10. And finally, when your husband sends a "Stuff" email listing all the things "we" (meaning "you") need to do, ignore it and get back to work. (Also, resist the urge to strangle said husband when he gets home from work tonight...he's kinda cute and nice to have around...despite his missteps.)

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Stop Photo Credit: Michal Marcol / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Go Photo Credit: Scott Chan / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

2011: My Three Non-Resolutionary Words

Today (the delightful 1.1.11) I'm giving a nod to Chris Brogan and Susan Murphy (a.k.a. SuzeMuse) for sharing the New Year's non-resolution these-are-not-goals 3-word strategy. I love the idea of setting forth three words that don't represent specific goals, but that express the energy and direction of all I want to accomplish in 2011.

So with no more than a few moments of thought behind my three words, here goes:  

TAKE ROOT-- (yeah, two words, I know...but one thought) -- Since receiving news of our recent repatriation from China to the U.S. (way back in late summer 2009), I've disengaged...a lot. I had to; for me, there was no other way to move my family from one side of the world to another AND manage all the emotional, geographical, physical, financial, and career changes that accompanied it. But as my family slowly begins to take root in our new town and our old-new country, I'm feeling the urge to once again reach out and engage...take root myself.

 THRIVE -- "to grow vigorously : flourish : to gain in wealth or possessions : prosper : to progress toward or realize a goal despite or because of circumstances" (pretty self-explanatory, yeah?)

CONSTRUCT -- Just what it implies. I'm a'building this year. Dreaming. Drawing. Seeing. Constructing. Inhabiting. Taking risks. Changing the skyline. Inviting. Sharing what gets built.

And you? Three words?