No, I CAN'T jump.

Today's Cereal: Vanilla Yogurt Burst Cheerios
Current Mood: Introspective

I am nursing my baby as we speak. (or whatever). This means that I am typing one-handed, and it is very slow-going.

I love breastfeeding. In my pre-baby days (you know, the days where we went to Disneyland every year, stayed up late, did what we wanted, ate out a lot, dropped everything to see a movie, and had really nothing to live for?) I used to think that I'd be really creeped out about breastfeeding. But now I am a big proponent. Ladies, if you have a baby and you are able to do it, I recommend it. There is nothing quite like the closeness, nothing like the feeling of being so needed. Baby Robin sure is sweet. She is currently stroking her hand back and forth across my chest, a lot like a kitten doing happy-paws. Sometimes when I hold her up on my shoulder, she wraps her arm around my neck and holds on tight, like a baby chimpanzee. So sweet!


I worked in the office yesterday. I do reunions from home; when I am in the office I scan the old adoption files into a digital format that will be searchable, as well as safer in a fire. It is a slow process, because I have to read all the casenotes from every file as I do it. The stories are so interesting! They are so heartbreaking! And I am completely hooked into them. There was one file I read yesterday that has really had me thinking:

1950. Young girl from a small farming community came to the big city to place her child for adoption. She thought she'd have a better chance of finding a good home for her baby in the big city, because no one in her town would take the baby. The reason why? The baby was part Black. Sadly there are still people out there today that will not take a child of a race other than their own, but I would hope that nobody today would take it to these extremes: The child was 1/32 black.

Are you kidding me?

No. I'm not. Get this: In doing our family history, my mom and I have discovered that my mom's dad's dad's mom's dad's mom's mom (or maybe dad) is black. Did you get that? In other words, one of my great-great-great-great-great grandparents is black. If I'm figuring right, that makes my grandpa, my mom's dad, 1/32 black. Back in 1950 no self-respecting white family would want him! Isn't that sad?

I believe that makes me 1/128 Black. Would I be similarly unwanted? How much was "too much" Black? In case you were wondering, I got nothing but the dark brown eyes. The baby in the adoption file I was reading didn't even get that much... he was blond-haired, blue-eyed.

Do you want to hear the end of the story? After a year the agency still could't find a family for him. But it worked out okay... the birthmother called back, said she was getting married, and that her husband wanted to adopt her baby. Since he hadn't been adopted already, the agency happily gave him back.

Interesting, interesting stories.