Grandpa and the Girl: Life Lessons from My Dad About Staying Young
Love it, Barbara! I think a sense of wonder and play is essential to happiness. Looks like your father is imparting terrific wisdom to the…...



For me, summer brings to mind many happy memories -- my daughter running bare-bottomed at the beach or covered head-to-toe in double fudge ice cream. But just like the sand that gets lodged in the bottom of my bathing suit, one irritating recollection is inevitable, as well -- The Woman at The Beach (insert menacing theme music from Jaws).
It was the summer of 2010, and Beth, adopted domestically, was 17 months. The Woman at The Beach had a teenage girl and a younger daughter the same age as Beth. The little ones were toddling around the beach's café area when The Woman and I struck up a typical mommy conversation -- though, in the span of five-minutes, she must have remarked five times that Beth didn't look like me. (She also emphasized that everything her kid did was amazingly advanced for her age.)
Beth is Caucasian like my husband, Tony, and me. However, that's where the physical resemblance ends. Tony and I have dark brown eyes and hair, and olive skin, while Beth is a sun-kissed blonde with hazel eyes and fair skin. I often hear, "Where'd she get the blonde hair from?" and "She must look like her daddy.
When The Woman first said, "Funny, she doesn't look like you," I responded with, "Oh," and shrugged my shoulders.
Then she asked, "Is your husband blonde?" I said, "No," and then added, for good measure, "It runs in the family." ("Runs in the family" has become my favorite go-to line -- it's to the point, it's true, and it stops further interrogation. Usually.)
By now I was more than ready to make my escape, but Beth was finally sitting and eating, so I stayed. After Tony returned from packing up the car with our beach gear, The Woman nodded toward Beth and said, sounding exasperated, "I just don't see it. She doesn't look like either of you."
I remember shooting Tony a squinted-eye look that I thought clearly said, "WARNING! WOMAN IS NUTS! DON'T TELL HER BETH WAS ADOPTED!" Somehow Tony missed my message.
"Well, that's because we adopted her," he said with a smile.
Oh boy.
"I was young and single when I had her (pointing to her teenager) and I could never put my child up for adoption!" The Woman exclaimed.
"Well, everyone's situation is different," I said as calmly as I could, even though my heart was pounding and I was sweating profusely.
"I could never do that!"
"We're so grateful that our daughter's birthmom could," I said, wiping away my sweat mustache. "We love and respect her so much." I was speaking and moving quickly now -- simultaneously packing up my beach bag, throwing away lunch leftovers, and collecting my child into my arms.
"I could never ever do that."
"Well, this was fun!"
My sarcasm was obviously lost on The Woman because she gave me a big, friendly smile. I was fairly certain the next thing out of her mouth was going to be, "We should exchange numbers!" Just as she was opening her mouth to speak, I said, "Bye!" and made our getaway.
When we were safe in the car and Beth had fallen asleep, Tony and I replayed the conversation -- over and over. What snappy comeback could I have said to, "I could never do that"? Maybe I should have whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "I know! Can you believe it?!" At least that might have made me feel in control of the situation and my emotions.
I suppose what really got to me was this: I thought I could get this Woman to see past her own experience for a moment, to show an inkling of compassion for our daughter's biological mother and to see the great little family that was right in front of her.
I haven't run into The Woman at the Beach since the day of my "summertime shakedown," as I like to call it, but I know she isn't alone in her attitude toward adoption. So, sweaty or not, spiffy comeback or not, I'll continue to defend, or deflect, or discuss open adoption. Because she, and others like her, is still out there. (Oh, go ahead, replay the menacing theme music from Jaws!)
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12 Comments
Oh, Barbara, we had a very similar situation happen to us with a woman at an ice cream shop. I wrote about it here a while back and titled it, as she repeated many times: “Those are NOT your children.” I don’t like those conversations. I like to educate people about adoption and its different issues but I don’t like to run into people who simply are opposed to it or refuse to have their minds open a little. We had a guy at church say: “I don’t understand how any woman could give up her own flesh and blood to strangers.” That was the end of the conversation for me. This was a person who came into it already with lots of very strong ideas about adoption.
The story of my life…
I’ve been getting the “I could never do that!” comment from both strangers and friends since we were waiting to adopt. I always say something along the lines of “We’re so grateful that our daughter’s birthmom could. We love and respect her so much.” (Now, that was an excellent comeback, if you ask me.) But, just like what happened to the author, sometimes I just can’t get through to them.
My response to the “I could never do that!” comment is this: “Really? Wouldn’t you do ANYTHING for your child?” in a shocked voice. When they say that of course they would, I either say “apparently you wouldn’t” if I am feeling snarky or if I am feeling educational I point out that my daughter’s biological mom was willing to suffer the ultimate pain of giving up her child, FOR THE SAKE OF HER CHILD. That maybe some of us are not strong enough to do ANYTHING for our children but I am glad that she was.
“She must look like her daddy”............
“where does the red hair come from?”.........
Constantly these are things I hear. While these people may not know the stab in the heart they just gave me (over and over) they also don’t realize that it doesn’t matter who she looks like or who she may NOT look like. Does it really matter? She is OUR daughter and she is her own person and she IS LOVED!!!!! That IS what matters!!!!! And I am forever grateful and thankful to the birthmother for making the best decision and for making me a mama.
We get these comments all the time. Especially at first from my sister in law. What I really want to say when I’m in a bad mood is “well you should of”. Then I breathe and remember I don’t mean that. I like arielifoma’s and farmerjoan’s take on this issue. My husband is also more likely to share than I am.
Can I just say here, My daughter looks absolutely NOTHING like me at all, and she is mine biologically. I’ve actually had people approach me to ask if she was adopted. In my case she does look like her Daddy, so it is explainable in that way, but not everyone’s kids look like them.
Wow, I can’t wait to be a mom and I truly believe God has a special child for us that we are waiting for right now. But how do I prepare for these attacks from absolute strangers?
And by the way, I agree with shaina81. I don’t look anything like my mother or brother! I do look very much like my dad, but when I was little he worked a lot, so my mom did most of the parenting. I don’t think people asked her. It’s become a problem in our society that every stranger thinks they can ask you all kinds of personal things! Really, it’s none of their business!
I’ve heard the I could never do it comment a few times and our son is only 6 months old. Up until now I’ve thought of myself as an ambassador for adoption but I’m starting to change my tune. Maybe I should consider arielifeoma’s need to know basis idea!
I don’t know whether to be comforted or horrified that I’m not alone in this kind of situation. (I think I’m a little of both!)
Thank you for your feedback everyone—Now I’ve added a few more comebacks to my arsenal if the moment should ever rear itself again.
For those of you who haven’t read it, here’s the post from Gaby about her “shakedown” experience— http://www.adoptivefamiliescircle.com/blogs/post/transracial_adoption_conversations/