Sticks and Stones

I'm not gonna lie, words do hurt.

I guess I've been living in a bubble or something, because I have not encountered too many overly nosey or rude comments/questions about my children and the fact that they are adopted (mainly Sarah). The majority of the people in our church congregation know our story and are also used to families adopting internationally because there are several of us. Our neighbors know our story and have celebrated the arrival of both our children. We have awesome friends who were so happy to see us become parents - no matter the avenue.

Sure, I've had the occasional, "Her daddy must be Asian/Korean/Chinese," to which I can reply one of two ways - depending on my mood. Answer a) "Actually he's Vietnamese!" or answer b) "Actually, my husband I are were blessed to adopt her from Vietnam." I've also had the questions about her country of origin because that person personally knows someone else who has adopted from an Asian country and they are excited to share that bit of information with me. Or, the last scenario that I've had is the person who is just so fascinated with international adoption and wants to tell me that if they could they would. I almost always give people grace and the benefit of the doubt that their intentions are pure in the questioning. I like to give people that benefit, because even if they had ulterior motives, they don't have anything left to say when given grace and a cheerful answer.

Today was my day......my day to join the club, I guess. The day when I thought of a million things I wish I would have said instead of being gracious. The day I should have stuck up for my daughter and I didn't.

I took the kids to the mall, to a department store to find a new pair of sunglasses. Sarah was right with me trying on sunglasses and having fun. I didn't realize that she threw some into the shopping basket on my stroller. As I'm at the register I notice two pairs and a wallet. I pull them out and set them on the counter explaining that my daughter put them in our basket, but I'm not purchasing them. After a minute the lady asks me, "Was she tiny when you got her?" Yes, she was petite, I explain. "No, was she a young baby?" Yes, she was pretty young - about a year old, I explain. "Was she in an orphanage?" Yes. "Well, you know, they learn at a very young age - even little babies - to steal when they live in an orphanage. It's what they are taught. That's why she put the glasses and wallet in your basket. That's all she knows is to take things." Okay - what the............................?! Did you just say that my daughter is a thief because she lived in an orphanage as an infant? Did she really think that a baby that couldn't crawl, walk, or talk - a baby who had never been out in public before we adopted her - a child who has lived in a stable home for almost two years- would know to steal just from a short period in the orphanage?? (Hello, could it be because she is a three year old!!!!!! Isn't this normal for toddlers to collect items and put them in a basket???) As my brain is trying to process what she said, she goes on to say, "Well, it was oftley sweet of you and your husband to take her in."

"No, ma'am, we are the lucky ones." And I left. Maybe it was best....you know, to not cast pearls before swine.

Just to add a little salt, another lady walks up beside me in the parking lot and asks, "Are they both yours?"

"Yes, they are both my babies."

"REALLY? BOTH?"

"Yup! Have a good one!"