Archive | September 2013

Whose son is he?

Being a stay at home mum, I’m used to being the primary person responsible for moving my son around the world.  I’m the one who takes him to preschool, dog walks, errands and all those community programs during the summer. He’s grown up visiting my mother in the home and everyone there knows him. I’ve dropped him with my agent’s receptionist to watch a movie while I put an audition on tape or run next door to audition.  I talk to the teachers, the mothers, the kids, and random strangers.  My son and I share the same skin colour, so people don’t doubt the biological connection part.  It doesn’t get awkward until the inevitable conversations about labour & delivery stories and things like that.  My husband however spends a great deal of time with him when I have to work or go to Buddhist activities.  So in the past he’s been approached by some random guy who wanted to know where he got him (cause he had one too apparently), or a friend’s dad asked us how old our son was and how long we’d been married…..mmmm, what a puzzle.  He often complains to me that when we are together that people think he’s just mine, that some guy knocked me up and he’s the sucker that’s raising him.  I can tell this really bothers him. He’s contradictory though.  One one hand, he says he doesn’t give a crap what people think of him, and yet his behaviour dictates otherwise. We went to a parent/teacher meeting at Boo’s preschool last night.  I was surprised that hubby even wanted to go.

I always suggest he bring Boo to school with me when he’s able so that the new teachers can meet him so his appearance at a later date is not turned into one of those “Oh, you’re his father?” moments.  I just say this is Boo’s dad.  end of story.  I don’t announce to teachers that Boo is adopted, I don’t preface any introductions of him.  He’s my son period.  This town is full of transracially adopted children, so I shouldn’t have to explain that to teachers.  If I have to clarify anything later, I do.  His dad gets irritated when he gets “the look”.   Maybe it’s a racial thing, because I’ve gotten “the look” all my life when I show up in person after I’ve talked to someone on the phone. I’m used to people making assumptions and I barrel right through.   Within our inner circle, it’s a subject that never comes up.

The teachers wanted to let us know about their teaching philosophy and of course, find volunteers to come in and do entertain  the kids. (As if that’s not what I do every single day.)  A Persian woman says to me, that’s your son? as Boo plays with a girl at the sand table.  I corrected her and said, yes, that’s OUR son.  Afterwards, hubby griped that everyone thinks Boo is just “my” son and not “his”.  I’m not sure what to say to him.  He is a devoted father who truly plays and enjoys spending time with his son.  From the beginning, he has changed diapers and gotten up in the middle of the night to feed him, carried him on his shoulders, plays hide and seek and cars for hours with him.  He’s fussed over him when he’s sick and bathes him most of the time.  He cuts his hair and double checks his carseat.  I’ve watched him talk about Boo with tears of gratitude in his eyes.

Truly, I think it’s the whole notion that this incredible son is ADOPTED and he wishes he did not have that layer of complexity to deal with.  He’s often said he would not give up Boo so he could just have a biological son.  He says all the right things about adoption and Boos’ birthmother, but he’s only comfortable hearing from her once in a blue moon – and just through me.  He used to try to control how I communicated with her, but has since learned the error of his ways.  Ahem.  I know he’s about to become even more irritated as he is now getting involved in Boo’s extracurricular sports activities.  He’s going to be an assistant soccer coach.  Really, I’m snickering over here. He’s never volunteered for anything on an organized level.  I always have to nag him to attend even a picnic with my Buddhist friends (which really is JUST a friggin’ picnic.)   I’ve been at him for YEARS to volunteer his time with children’s soccer programs.  Of course, when his buddy decided to enroll his sons in soccer and get involved, he wanted to get his kid registered as well.  He used to play soccer at a national and pro level when he was younger.  So you know he knows soccer on an INTIMATE level.  Except he was coached as a young person to WIN, not to have FUN.   I can hardly wait til he enters that sports as FUN world.  I’m all for it.  He’s going to be meeting a ton of people who don’t know him or will make assumptions about his relationship with Boo.  He always says he can get along with anybody.  That’s true.

This should be interesting.

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Priorities

I haven’t blogged in a while because I haven’t had much time in the morning to myself.  Okay, I’ve had none.  I have attempted to remedy this getting up earlier than my darling Boo.  The first time I decided to get up at 7, because he was getting up at 7:30 or so.  Of course, he woke up at 7:05.  Then I tried 6:30 and he woke up at 6:31.  Oh,  yes,  I even tried 6am.  You see where I’m going with this, right?  I mean, I literally open my eyes and sit up and his door would open and I could hear the footsteps of Doom.  A while ago, I even started making French press coffee because I didn’t want the beep of the coffee machine to signal to him that I was up.  LD (little dictator as he’s known now) used to wake up slowly and snuggle beside me and watch Knowledge network while I would tap away on my laptop and drink my coffee.  Those days are long gone.  He would throw his feet on it or kick it “by accident”.  He did not care that it was a $700 laptop and I needed it for work.  I tried reasoning that mummy did actually need to check her email for work (usually my work requests come in the morning and if I didn’t get back to them, I might lose out on work).  I also realized he needed my attention (hence the reason I was trying to get up earlier for a cup of coffee and a bit of quiet).  So I put it aside until he was otherwise engaged, but really, sometimes I don’t get to finish reading things or sending emails until he is physically out of the house. (And this post was interrupted by Boo for the millionth time and I ended up hurriedly arranging a playdate.)

I have spent the entire summer doing fun things with my son.  We have walked the dog at various parks, thrown sticks and stones into the water for Juno.  I’ve enrolled him in 30 minute swimming classes 5 days a week for 3 weeks.  I’ve put him in preschool programs, sports camps, library visits, play dates, etc.  We have made cookies, gone for smoothies, walked in nearby gardens, watched a gazillion episodes of Spiderman together.  All in all, we’ve grown closer and had a good time doing so. 

Now it’s preschool time again 3 times a week for 2 1/2 hrs in the morning.  Cue the trumpets!  I had a doctor’s appointment downtown to go over my blood test results.  No surprise, but I’ve learned I have to put myself higher up on the priority list.  Hell, I need to get ON the list.  My fasting blood sugar number is at the high end of normal range as is my LDL cholesterol level.  I’ve never had these numbers before on paper nor on the scale.  Between my mother’s illness, family karma, moving, marriage issues, and a demanding schedule of being a f/t mother and p/t actress/notetaker, I’ve let all my hard efforts with my fitness slide right into the toilet.  Not sure what’s been keeping me going, but I suspect it’s candy and wine.  It wasn’t the long ago when after visiting my mother in the hospital, I would drive past Whole Foods on the way home, and pick up milk, bread and a slab of tiramisu to polish off when I got home at 10pm.  And then wash it down with a glass of Apothic Red. Red wine is heart healthy – right? Now that there have been significant improvements in most areas of my life, the good news is that I have an opportunity to reverse those numbers and get healthy again. 

Goodbye bacon, hello veggies.  Whee!