The Dreaded Question...(if you've adopted)

Ok. I was hit with one of the dreaded questions today. No need to panic. I was heavily armed. I had planned for this over the years, just after the first time I was asked a 'dreaded question'. I vowed then and there to be ready the next time. No need to flip out, I told myself. Just educate the person.

So here's how it went down. I won't give too many details about where, to protect the poor soul from retribution. I was 'out and about' shall we say, this afternoon, and met a new fellow parent. Nice enough woman, engaging in the expected chit-chat that happens in the location where we were. The topic came to kids, and I mentioned that I had adopted three years ago, and that my daughter was now 15.

"So, do you have any of your own kids?"

I let the question just hang there for a minute. I was hoping it was echoing in her head. I was hoping that, in the span of seconds I was using to retrieve all my ammunition she was wallowing in the blatant and, frankly, inexcuseable rudeness of her question.

"Umm, yes, that one I was just talking about? The adopted one? Well, she's kind of mine." I couldn't help the mild sarcasm. I was devastated. I wanted to educate her. I wanted to take her out for a long drive and explain to her how my daughter was as much mine as hers was hers. But I didn't. I kind of froze, and let the relative silence do the speaking. But afterwards? After she had driven away? Oh boy, then my mind was racing with facts and stories and wise quips. It was too late. She had driven away in her fancy BMW with her perfect child and her equally perfect, pure-bred dog in the back.

So, here I am in blogland telling her what I didn't get to say five hours ago. Honey, she is mine. She is more mine than you might ever feel for your own flesh and blood child. She

*Sorry everyone! blogger ate part of my blog last night and I'm trying to retrieve it!*