A few of weeks ago, I was encouraging THD to get in touch with his birth siblings (he's the second youngest of 6---none of whom were ultimately raised by their biological mother who died of a drug overdose a couple of years back).
His medical records are sketchy and incomplete, and not only did we think that it would nice for him to connect with them on a social level (despite their rocky beginnings, the oldest 4 are doing tremendously well), it would be helpful to find out if any of them have experienced any medical issues that might have a genetic cause.
Right now we're in the middle of having him completely medically and psychologically re-evaluated, because he'd previously been "diagnosed" ::koff koff:: and is currently being medicated for some conditions that seem to be absolute bullsh*t. More on that soon.
Also, as a fellow adoptee, I talked with him about some of the neat/funny aspects of connecting, and we touched on the nature/nurture debate. Learning about some of the amazing parallels I have in common with my biological mother and family piqued his interest, and he's thinking about writing to his siblings this summer.
So I wanted to write about something that totally cracked me up recently.
Couple of years ago, I wrote about finding my biological mom after a really long search. While navigating this new relationship we discovered that we had a lot in common. We had some odd parallels in our lives. We shared the same thought processes. We had the same off-beat, demented sense of humor.
I was delighted. I no longer felt like some weird alien being that had been dropped off in a field after my planet exploded. My adoptive mom was delighted as well.
She had always feared that maybe she screwed me up because she didn't breast-feed me. It was nice to know that it was somebody else's fault. ;-)
Anyhoo, understandably, my mom felt a little left out and insecure (something that has worked itself out over time) in the beginning while I was getting to know my birth family. My birth mom and I were trying to go at our own pace, while my adoptive mom---a compulsive micromanager---was busy trying to plan family vacations together for the next 10 years. It took her awhile to "get" that my birth mom wasn't interested in co-parenting, and that I certainly wasn't looking for another mommy. I was 35, fer chrissakes.
I tried to keep her included without letting her get in the middle and direct my reunion. It was like walking a tightrope. So whenever she asked if I had talked to my mother, I'd share. Maybe not the wisest decision, but one made with the best intentions at heart.
One day I relayed to her a conversation we'd had that ended up being a 30-minute snickerfest about blow-jobs and fart jokes.
Finally, "How come you never talked about blow-jobs and fart jokes with me?" Mom complained.
Waaaaaa? Are you nuts?
First of all, my mother is a retired minister. I'd as soon joke with her about blow-job techniques as I would to my son's elderly girlfriend (sarcasm alert!). It just seems so wrong on so many levels.
Second of all, my mother has been notoriously humorless on any topic that even smacks of sex since my dad seems to have shagged every female assistant he ever had before their divorce 30 or so years ago. In fact, although she's a wonderful woman who I love very much, she's always seemed to be somewhat humorless period.
And last of all, let's come to the obvious. Can I see a show of hands? Who wants to talk to their moms about blow-jobs? Any takers? Duh!
On Easter Sunday, Mom had holiday dinner with her new beau and his grown kids. And my brothers.
Now let me say that my brothers aren't too taken with Mom's new beau. They're protective boys and worried that someone might take advantage of her.
They really don't need to be worried. She has absolutely no intention of marrying again or taking care of any sick old men. She's been there, done that. In fact, the second new beau comes to a point where he can't drive any more or asks her to marry him, she'll toss him faster than Lorena flung the Bob-bit in the trash heap. She's become a car and driver tart. ;-)
Understandably, beau's adult children are worried themselves about someone taking advantage of their 84-year-old dad. So this dinner had the makings of a war council of the mafia with the two families on either side.
Mom and beau were highly amused.
As my brother relates it, beau's son asked with studied nonchalance (like he was interviewing a prospective employee), "So, Attila's Mom, tell us about yourself."
Very sweetly she replied, "Well, I've married and buried quite a few men in my time."
Beau's kids gaped like fishes.
Then Mom went on, "Didn't you have a minister at YOUR wedding?"
Okay Mumsy, you win. Next time I have a juicy blow-job joke, you'll be the first one I call. LOL