There’s absolutely no way of avoiding color in my family.
I was adopted as an infant from the state of Georgia where my parents, who are caucasian, raised me in a central Minnesota town with a half empty mall, lots of corn fields, lakes, no bars and at the time, diversity was slim to none. From the get go, I was raised to notice color and to notice the different families that walked the same sidewalks my family walked. Growing up, some could say I grew up “white” although this is not the case at all, my parents instilled my adoption story into my mind as young as I can remember. They made sure to raise a child knowing who she is, what she stands for and to always take care of my hair.
Their honesty, support and encouragement guided me tremendously, as I became a mother at the age of 21 years old in 2009.
When my son was a year old, he saw a picture in his room and squealed with a snagle-toothed smile, “Mama!” A little taken back, I thought to myself “No, no honey… That’s a 210 lb, 5’ 8 grown man. That is a Minnesota legend and your daddy’s idol as a child. You silly baby, that’s Kirby Puckett.”
That was four years ago. According to my son today, he and my husband are tan and I am brown. He has always seen color, again, there’s no avoiding the mix in our family – it’s truly beautiful. However, I was raised to understand my skin color was different than my parents solely because I was not their blood. With that being said, the thought of how do I correctly teach my “tan” son and his ever-so-curious mind that he gets his curls, flat nose, and dramatic personality from his brown mama?
In 2010, around the time I became “Kirby Puckett,” Pinterest was not around. I couldn’t create a “Transracial Parenting” board, so I asked a friend how she explained her families skin color and ethnic background to her daughter at a young age. She replied with, “I don’t know. She just says dad is chocolate, she’s caramel and I’m vanilla…”
I remember laughing at her response and then moved onto the next topic. That conversation has always stuck with me, and today I am realizing there is a reason it did, along with a reason my immediate reaction was to laugh… because that’s hilarious, isn’t it? Let’s be honest with ourselves, are we ice cream? If we are, then I’m onto something here.
Ice Cream Parenting
Rocky Road – Life is tough, there will be many bumps in each road you chose to cross. However, from the beginning to the end, you’re not alone. I will listen to you, laugh with you, hold you, cry with you and stand by you in whatever you do. Realize there will be plenty times we do not see eye-to-eye and you will experience a variety of situations that will cause dire heartache and headache in your years to come. The good thing is, to me, being a mother means beginning to end… especially on the rocky roads.
Double Chocolate Fudge – Everyone likes chocolate (except for me, seriously), but not everyone will agree to two scoops of double chocolate fudge. Of course, the flavors included are the same… it’s just, different. So, you treat others the same as you want to be treated, with an open heart and mind. Any type of prejudice against religion, race, sexual orientation, lifestyle is not cute nor is it sweet. There’s enough of that non-sense out there and I hope with all my heart you choose to stand above it physically, mentally and emotionally. We’re all human, we’re just different.
Vanilla – Plain and simple. I want your full and honest trust as I gained my parents’ at a young age. If you’re upset because you can’t have one more cookie – by all means, tell me. If you want to cry because you’re not ready for bed at 9pm (even though your tiny self can hardly walk, talk or keep your eyes open), then don’t you dare try to hold back those tears. You cry and you tell me why. There is to be no additives.
Sherbet – This is my favorite, be sweet. It takes practice, but I hope you grow to be a responsible adult with morals, values and integrity. Hold doors open, use your manners, give to the unfortunate, wash your hands and surprise those you love once and a while. Your father is a principle example of this.
Birthday Cake Batter – You are my blood, and the only one person I know who has my blood. There’s a strong Finnish blood line in you and then there’s me. The day you were born was the day I kind of figured it all out… Being adopted leaves a lot of questions and gaps, but it makes sense when I run my fingers through your tight brown curls, see your fully spaced, baby tooth smile and your flat nose. When there comes a time to check a race box on any application or form, you take pride in checking two.
Alright, do you see what I just did there? Somehow, I compared parenting, truth and straight-up honesty to ice cream. The thing is, we are not ice cream. The choices and exhaustion that comes along with parenting isn’t always simple and sweet… I can’t explain today’s societal media headlines to my child without tears flowing, realizing all I can do right now is be truthful in order for him to one day rise above any outpour, disgust or thought provoking headline or experience that may confront him someday.
There’s no way to avoid color in our family, yet there is no black and white either… There is so much to be said for ourselves as to what’s in between and what sets our mindset apart from seeing just black and just white. It’s evident our children have the ability to see true color and I believe as parents, it’s our best objective to see it too. We are not ice cream, but if we were… this whole “mommy-thing” sure would be a little sweeter, don’t you think?
Pat yourself on the back, fellow moms, take a deep breath and speak truth to your children… from one mom who has yet to figure it out, you’re doing great. Now, run to the nearest grocery store for some ice cream cones and a tub of each flavor mentioned above… You deserve it.
In June of 2014, Leah began a self-search for biological relatives. With support from family and friends, a blog based on her search & reunion experience evolved. As an adult transracial adoptee, Leah actively speaks and writes on mixed-race families, interracial adoption and search & reunion resources.
Leah moved to Lakeville in June with her husband and their 5 year old son, Vance. She is employed as a Marketing Director who enjoys a glass on Pinot Noir, “quiet time” in the gym and is thankful she married a man who knows how to cook. Follow Leah at You’re Holding Your Pencil Wrong or connect on Facebook as she advances information on her biological search and slowly (but surely) learns how to properly care for her own natural curl.
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