We have grease problems in our house. We have white people grease and black people grease and they really can not be used by the opposite race without problems. First of all, Diamond and Florence can not use white people shampoos, conditioners and lotions or they are left very dry and ashy--which makes them itchy and uncomfortable. They have to use heavy duty eucerine, special shampoo, and hair grease after every bath. So, you can only imagine the effects those products have on little white children. Sophia and Giselle are very jealous of Florence's grease and are always sneaking into it, thinking I won't notice. So the other day, about three minutes before we walked out the door to church, Sophia, comes bounding out looking like a greasy hippie, with her hair stringy and matted against her head. Of course, I had no time to go in and shampoo it three times to get it out, so she went to church like that.
The other day all the kids were talking about when they came out of mommy's tummy. Diamond turned to me and asked, "What was it like when I came out of your tummy?" I wanted to say, the best damn pregnancy I've ever had:), but refrained. I have many friends whose children are seemingly torn between their love for their birth families and their adoptive families. That is really normal, that is what I was expecting. I wasn't quite sure the right thing to say to a child who wants more than anything to have come out of my tummy, but didn't. So, I told him that he was "born" (conceived was a little over his head) in my heart and I knew I needed another little boy in my family. So I searched all over the world and found him in Africa, where I got him and brought him back to make my family complete, along with another beautiful little to girl to make me extra happy. Florence and Diamond seemed pleased with the explanation. . . for now anyway.
Wednesday, Florence bounced up to me with two little fabric dolls she had found deep in the toy box. One was a little white girl with long blonde hair and the other was a little brown girl with long black hair. She held them up to me and said, "See, Mommy, sisters. It's me and Sophie." She went on to hold up the white doll and say, "This is me," then pointing to the black doll, "this is Sophie." I was a little surprised, but said, "Sure is, and they're both beautiful aren't they?" I am not quite sure what to make of it. I have bought lots and lots of black barbies and baby dolls and Florence will have nothing to do with them, she always gives those to Sophia and takes the blonde dolls. I have no intention of pointing out the obvious, I will let her find her own racial identity as she grows up and will try to provide her lots of opportunities to know how beautiful it is to be black.
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