Oh My God - Terrorist Attack

This hits close to home for me... what a terrible event.

KNOXVILLE, Tennessee (CNN) -- The suspect in a fatal shooting at a Knoxville church Sunday was motivated by frustration over being unable to obtain a job and hatred for the liberal movement, police said Monday.

Authorities recovered a four-page letter in which the suspect, Jim Adkisson, described his feelings and motives, police said.

Adkisson, 58, of Powell, Tennessee, has been charged with one count of first-degree murder in the shootings at Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church.

The gunman killed two adults and wounded seven others before being overpowered by congregants, authorities said.

The case is being investigated as a hate crime, police said.

[...]

Nicknames

I realized, after almost two years of blogging, I badly need a blogname for my husband.

This is a difficult step because I'm allergic to the commonly-used internet acronyms. PAP, POC, WOC, DH, DD, ugh, ugh, ugh.

My dad is now Ojiichan, of course. My mother is Nana. Sunny is Sunny and I'm Atlasien. My husband is... I'm coming up with a blank. I'd like something simple, unpretentious, reminiscent but with no clue as to his real identity. Mildly humorous would be OK, but nothing vaguely insulting, such as Kielbasa.

Quick Notes about the New House

The new house is sooo big to me. I talked about it with my husband recently, and we both realized that it's the first time either of us has lived anywhere with more than one bathroom.

In fact, when I lived in New York City in the 90s, my old apartment had NO bathroom. I had a nook with a sink, a mini-fridge and a hot plate, and then I shared a bathroom with three other apartments. And I considered myself lucky to get that. I had to pay an agency $300 just so I could apply for it.

I've lived in nicer places before and after, but I've always had to share single bathrooms with roommates.

We're starting to meet the new neighbors. Sunny is going to have neighborhood kids to play with here. He's already met a few of them. The subdivision looks like a very typical mix for this area... 1/3 elderly white people, 2/3 middle-aged black people.

It's nice and quiet here too. Our old house was on a busy street. Every few weeks we'd find a hubcap in our front yard because people kept crashing at the intersection around the corner.

The only drawbacks to the new house are 1) lack of sun for gardening due to trees and 2) huge amounts of mosquitos. Later in the year, I'm going to thin out the juvenile trees a bit, then start work on a mostly-native shade garden. The mosquito factor is compensated for by an awesome screened-in porch. Aaah...

Ojiichan has his own room for when he visits. I just found a couple cheap sources for tatami and real futons. Other than a tiny table and some pillows, he won't need anything else. He looks down on furniture. "Furniture is for barbarian Americans".

Crack or Meth / More antisocial kids songs

Moving is about 80% done.

We had an appointment with a psychiatrist recently. The appointment was more of a formality than anything; we just needed a quick examination to get a refill prescription on Sunny's medication.

We went into the small meeting room together. The psychiatrist went over the notes from the therapist. He asked us a few questions about Sunny's background. Sunny was busy looking at some kids books in a basket in the corner. I noticed, nervously, that the questions began to get more personal. At this stage with the therapist, we would usually split up, so that either I or my husband was talking, and Sunny would be in the room next door playing.

But the psychiatrist kept right on going. It looked like he hadn't read the notes too thoroughly. He asked about Sunny's bio mom... "So, was she on crack or meth?"

I suggested that Sunny and my husband go next door at that point.

I think that's extremely rude and disrespectful to talk in front of a 6-year-old child as if they're not even there. He barely even lowered his voice when he asked that question. Sunny is extremely perceptive.

Then, the psychiatrist starting making small talk, and he asked how much Sunny's adoption cost! I don't want to go into detail as to the location, but he should be used to dealing with kids from the foster care system. Of course his adoption is going to be free. Anybody in his position should know that already. What an ignoramus!

I considered making a complaint, but it's not easy finding psychiatrists who take Medicaid and are capable of making appointments less than six months in advance. I'll wait until after we take him off medication at least.

Sunny's foster home was a relatively shielded environment and I want to keep things that way for a while. Not forever, just a while. His understanding is that his bio mother was sick and couldn't take care of him. He doesn't need to know other details yet.

I considered making a long post about cultural views on drug addiction, race and class. No, I don't have any kind of Intervention-type life story, but my family experience is sort of different than the average American's. I decided not to. Even though this blog is anonymous, I just don't feel comfortable talking that much about the subject.

Speaking of trying to shelter Sunny, he picked up the weirdest song from a girl at his day camp. It's about a violent mouse. It goes like this:

Mice-ster Mice-ster bought a car
Mice-ster Mice-ster BLEW UP THE CAR!!!
Mice-ster Mice-ster bought another car
Mice-ster Mice-ster BLEW UP THE CAR!!!
Mice-ster Mice-ster bought another car
Mice-ster Mice-ster BLEW UP THE CAR!!!

After repeating a few lines of this, he's already laughing hysterically. My husband and I play it straight and tell him we hope Micester Micester doesn't live or commute anywhere near us. My husband also said he's heard Sunny say more lines like...

Mice-ster Mice-ster bought a CANNON cake
Mice-ster Mice-ster BLEW UP THE CAKE!!!
Mice-ster Mice-ster bought another cake

And disturbingly...

Mice-ster Mice-ster bought a pet
Mice-ster Mice-ster KILLED HIS PET!
Mice-ster Mice-ster bought another pet

When I was growing up we had "Little Rabbit Frufru". The way I understood it, Little Rabbit Frufru was kind of psychotic and slaughtered field mice for his enjoyment... but he got what he deserved. Micester Micester seems to get away with his reckless, antisocial behavior.

The very worst song I loved singing when I was a kid was a variant of "The Burning of the School" (it's sung to the tune of the Battle Hymn of the Republic). Here's how I remember the chorus:

Glory Glory Hallelujah
Teacher hit me with a ruler
I hid behind the corner with a loaded .44
And the teacher don't teach no more

A commenter here already mentioned a book that apparently anthologizes a lot of this stuff. I might go and order it. It's amazing how much it spread around solely by word of mouth... this type of song was too gross/violent to ever show up on TV or radio.

Hellboy II Was Awesome!

I really enjoyed it. Many of the visual elements reminded me of Pan's Labyrinth. The scene with the forest elemental also seemed like a homage to the the death scene of the forest kami from Princess Mononoke.

Who to Vote for Tomorrow...

We have an important election tomorrow. The Democratic primary is going to decide a lot of local leaders (there are so few Republicans that the general election isn't meaningful).

Hank Johnson, my rep, doesn't have a challenger this year, since Cynthia McKinney is off running for president. Usually this district is a hot primary contest. On the other hand, John Lewis DOES have a challenger, which is an amazing event. Everyone thought he would die in office without ever having to run for his seat again. He's not going to lose it this time, though.

The most important post for me is Dekalb CEO; this is a powerful position in charge of the populous area of unincorporated Dekalb. Vernon Jones, the misogynist, warmongering backstabbing all-around nasty human being, is leaving this post. I remember when he was first elected and there were high hopes for him. He was known as "an a**hole who got things done". But then he stopped getting things done. Dekalb County is still in a terrible situation as far as crime and school quality.

Vernon Jones is leaving to run for Senate. He's not a good candidate and there were rumors the Republicans were paying him to run. On the other hand, I've heard he might do well in south Georgia, where people don't yet know how much of an a**hole he is.

For Senate, we're trying to defeat Saxby Chambliss, a loathesome Bush puppet. Some people think that because Jones is black, he will be in a good position to take advantage of the new wave of Obama voters that are going to the polls this general election. If I believed that, I'd vote for him in the primary, because even Jones is better than Chambliss. However, he has such an evil reputation, especially among women, that I bet many people will simply not vote for that Senate position, even if they're voting a straight Democratic ticket otherwise.

So for Senate primary, I'm going to vote for Rand Knight. He seems intelligent, likable and has a decent chance. Josh Lanier is admirable but doesn't have the money. Dale Cardwell hates immigrants and is totally nuts. Jim Martin waited too long and is not energetic enough.

For Dekalb County CEO, I'm torn between Stan Watson and Burrell Ellis. I was leaning to Watson, but I have started to hear good things about Ellis. I will probably go for Ellis after doing a bit more research.

More Death, and Colorism

I had some heavy conversations with Sunny today.

He brought up death while we were driving. He said that when you died, you turned into an angel and went up into the clouds.

I told him that's not what I believed. He got a little upset. "You don't believe me!"

"It's not that I don't believe you, I just have a different belief. It's OK to believe different things."

"But that's what my mom in ___ says! And she's always right! If mom is right, then I'm wrong." He'll mix up all three moms in the same conversation sometimes, but I always know who he's talking about.

"When it comes to what happens after we die, a lot of people believe different things, and that's OK. We can respect each other's beliefs even if we don't believe the same thing."

Then we talked about all the different colors in the beautiful sunset. I went fishing a little bit.

"People have all different beautiful skin colors too, you know."
"I know. My skin is lighter than yours."
"Um... no it's not. Your skin is a nice caramel color."
"Caramel is dark. I don't like dark skin."
"But there's nothing wrong with dark skin. Does that mean you don't like all the nice people you know with dark skin?"
"No, I like them. I just don't like dark skin. Light skin is better."

Argh...

"Well, I like dark skin." That's all I had for the moment.

Later that night I took out "Bright Eyes, Brown Skin" again for our bedtime reading. Despite how much I've been complaining about uneventful black-themed children's books, I sure was happy to see that cover again.

It was inscribed as a gift to him from a friend of mine: "To Sunny, who has beautiful bright eyes and brown skin." We read the inscription again.

"You do have beautiful brown skin."
"I know. Hug!"
I gave him a hug.
We read through the book again. He seemed more into it than the first time around. He wanted to try reading some of the words himself.
At the end I said, "It's OK that we have different-colored skin. I like my skin and I like your skin too. I hope you like your skin and my skin too!"

He smiled and seemed a lot happier. Then we read some more pages of Horton Hears a Who, an old favorite which is what he really wanted to read.

He complained a bit that he had bad dreams at night. He had bad dreams about the movie Grinch (thank you Jim Carrey). I told him I had bad dreams about monsters almost every night (this is true). But they didn't bother me, because when the monster got too close, I'd stop running and tell the monster, "I give up. I'm tired of having this bad dream. I'm going to quit this dream and start having a good dream instead, just because I can."

He also tried to persuade me that he spent most of the night awake. I know this is an exaggeration designed to get us to sleep in bed with him. He goes right to sleep after a few minutes. Sunny's like a light switch without a dimmer. When he's on, he's up, and very vocal about being up; when he's off, he's practically comatose. One reason I know is that we made a few attempts last month to wake him at 10pm to go to the bathroom. We abandoned that anti-bedwetting tactic pretty quickly because waking him up was so difficult and he obviously hated it.

The truth is that it's against pre-adoptive placement rules to sleep in the same bed. He could get taken away from us for that. I don't tell him that. I just tell him that we can't sleep together, but maybe in the future, we'll have a sleepover on vacation where we all sleep in the same room.

I wonder if he really has bad dreams all the time too. In the morning, I always ask him what he dreamed, and he always says he can't remember.

I turned off the lights and lay in bed next to him for a few minutes before I left for the night. I think he had a good bedtime, and I really hope he went to bed tonight with just a little less worry on his shoulders.

I told my husband what Sunny had talked about earlier. I told him, "It's tragic and depressing, but I'm not really surprised. Little kids look around and start noticing who's on top in society. If he brings it up again, just try and reinforce positive messages, but don't get upset and raise your voice and give him the message that it's a bad thing to talk about."

Kids, Movies and Death

Ahh... I want to see Hellboy II so bad...

My husband and I have very different movie tastes. I like big sweeping epics with big themes -- the bigger the better. I used to study and work in the fringes of the industry, so I also have a strong appreciation for cinematography and editing. Jodorowsky, Kurosawa, Tsui Hark, Herzog: those are my guys. Most American epics are just too stupid for me to enjoy (e.g. the Matrix with that stupid, stupid human battery idea... wouldn't it be a lot easier to just hook up a bunch of cows?), although I do love John Sayles and his delicate sociological style.

In the absence of intelligent epics, I'll settle for competent ones with lots of blood, explosions and pointy-toothed monsters.

On the other hand, the ideal movie for my husband is shot in black and white with cinema verite style. It's based in either Milwaukee or Lbubljana, Slovenia. It takes place over the span of a few days and follows several quirky characters in their monotonous daily routine as they go through an intensely private dysfunctional moment in a quietly painful sort of way. You might think something is going to happen, but it never does. Maybe someone goes fishing with their dog. The fish aren't biting. They look sadly down at the water. Freeze frame. Credits roll. I don't notice the credits because I fell asleep an hour ago.

But he liked the first Hellboy movie. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it was the noir element? Anyway, I LOVE Guillermo del Toro and I'm totally pumped about Hellboy II. Luckily we have Nana to watch Sunny while my husband and I go see it together.

I'm so glad my mom and I live so close. Sunny really loves her too.

Sunny watched the Spiderwick Chronicles recently. I decided it was alright, despite the monster-related violence, because I'd heard it had good themes about family unity and dealing with loss.

He really enjoyed it and says he wants to watch it again. One thing he said sort of bothered me, though. He said that if Arthur Spiderwick turned to dust that would look cool... I told him it's not nice to wish for people to die, and he said that it would be OK because Spiderwick would just come back in the second movie.

It's hard to explain stuff like this to kids in a way they really understand, especially given the bad influence of video games. I did my best. I reminded him that in real life, people don't really come back after they die. Death is forever*.

It's not just kids that have a problem with that fact. We don't want to die, but we're fascinated with representations of death. We're compelled to watch and relive scenes of death over and over again in all aspects of human culture.

The clearest explanation I ever read on the subject was from Aristotle in 335 B.C.

Poetics, IV. The Origin and Development of Poetry

Poetry in general seems to have sprung from two causes, each of them lying deep in our nature. First, the instinct of imitation is implanted in man from childhood, one difference between him and other animals being that he is the most imitative of living creatures, and through imitation learns his earliest lessons; and no less universal is the pleasure felt in things imitated. We have evidence of this in the facts of experience. Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause of this again is, that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers but to men in general; whose capacity, however, of learning is more limited. Thus the reason why men enjoy seeing a likeness is, that in contemplating it they find themselves learning or inferring, and saying perhaps, 'Ah, that is he.' For if you happen not to have seen the original, the pleasure will be due not to the imitation as such, but to the execution, the colouring, or some such other cause.

Imitation, then, is one instinct of our nature.

When I first read that, it was a huge revelation for me. It answered a question I'd never even thought to ask before. Why do humans get such pleasure from representations of death and pain? Why do I love watching movies with exploding vampires and zombies?


* I'm still a Buddhist but reincarnation is a lot more complicated than just "coming back".

Kicked Out of Therapy

The family therapist said we didn't need to come back for a while. We just don't have enough issues.

He was very skeptical about the possible bipolar diagnosis. One piece of evidence is that Sunny's behavior is better (less pouting, more focus) in school than it is at home. His reasoning was that true bipolar disorder doesn't differentiate like that. Acting better at school is just a very common six-year-old trait... my book on six-year-olds says as much.

He thinks that the pathologized behavior in Sunny's paperwork comes from anxiety about identity and stability. Coming from the foster care system, it would be unlikely, and even troubling, if Sunny didn't have that anxiety.

I scheduled another session in a couple of months, on the theory that maybe more issues will come up after school starts. We're also seeing the psychiatrist in a week. Our plan is going to be to start tapering off the medication after a month in school.

This was the first time my husband has ever had therapy.

"That was kind of fun! Maybe I'll do it myself!"
"Sure... just remember, if you do it for yourself, it's not covered by Medicaid."
"Oh..."

Progress

I thought I'd be moved by now. Ha ha ha!

The kitchen needs a bit of work. So far we're within budget.

Sunny's Medicaid finally came through, although we've had some hiccups with his medication. We've had his doctor and dentist appointments already, plus a therapist orientation meeting. Our first family therapy is going to start in a few days.

The therapist asked us if we had noticed anything odd, such as a fixation with guns and knives. We couldn't pick out anything that was really abnormal. I mean, he's kind of fixated on flashlights that he pretends are lightsabers, but I don't think that counts. For now, we're signed up for family therapy. The therapist also recommended keeping him on his medication until a few months of school, then tapering down to half strength for a month, then taking him off.

When Sunny met the therapist, he smiled at her and waved, but stayed close to me and hugged my leg tightly. She said that signified healthy body language in terms of attachment.

Today Sunny had his first dry morning in almost a month. Before he moved in with us, it was about a 50/50 chance each night. His anxiety level went up after transitioning, and might finally be dropping down a bit now. I hope the new house move doesn't raise it up again too much.

We're very very very busy. I hope this move is going to be over soon...

Pout Breakthrough

More and more, Sunny has started doing "funny pouts". When I tell him "no" on something, he'll make a pout-face, then exaggerate the face and add a funny noise. I usually imitate the noise and make a monkey sound "oo oo" or a tiger sound "raar". Then he starts giggling.

I'm happy... it seems like a better way of expressing himself.

Also, I might have to alter my plans for Sunny becoming an engineer or a lawyer. Maybe stand-up comic is more in order. His latest thing is dancing around doing "naked impersonations" after getting out of the shower.

"I'm the naked pizza delivery man!"

"I'm the naked fashion designer!"

That last one really confused us. We kept asking if he was a fashion designer for naked people, or a fashion designer who just happened to design clothes naked, but he wouldn't give us an answer.

Another Transition

We're moving this week, so posting is going to be light.

Sunny has known for months that we're going to move. I think he's as sold on the idea as he's going to get. He's seen the new house, he knows what's involved, what's going to be different and what's going to stay the same. He did ask me last week, "will we still have the same cars when we move?" I told him we would not only have the same cars, but also the same clothes and the same beds and the same books and DVDs.

The new house is going to be bigger, closer to his day camp, closer to my mother's (we eat dinner there almost every other night) and is in a quieter neighborhood with more small kids around.

It's still a big transition. I'm predicting his anxiety level is going to go way up for a couple weeks.

Self-Censorship

In real life, I curse a lot. I also have a dark sense of humor. I'm so used to censoring myself that most people I know professionally probably think I'm quite humorless.

Yesterday when we were driving down the street we saw a fire truck parked by the side of the street. Sunny, who has a creative explanation for everything, said he thought the fire truck was washing off a telephone pole that had gotten dirty from a fire. I offered an alternate explanation: "it's probably blasting a kitten out of the tree with a firehose." My husband and I starting laughing. Sunny said, "MOM! DAD! Don't laugh! It's not funny! THE KITTEN COULD GET HURT!"

I apologized. I need to watch myself a bit more carefully!

My own dad is always saying stuff like that. In fact, he calls our dog "Hot Dog" and threatens to cook and eat him every time the dog wanders into our kitchen. The joke stopped being funny about four years ago... we just ignore it nowadays.

Speaking of Ojiichan, he should be visiting soon. He can't wait to meet Sunny!

Speaking of our dog, he still hasn't fully accepted Sunny. He won't run to Sunny for comfort. But sometimes on the couch, he'll sneak up behind Sunny and lick his ear.

Medication Decision Matrix

Based on what we know from the previous therapist and psychiatrist, plus Sunny's foster mom, and in the absence of input from the new therapist and psychiatrist, here's what we're looking at.

Possible effects of taking Sunny off medication:

Mood/Attention Span	Negative	Positive
Negative	Increase in mood swings and tantrums, decreased attention span	Increase in mood swings and tantrums, increased attention span
Neutral (I think "Positive" would be unrealistic)	No change in mood swings, decreased attention span	No change in mood swings, increased attention span

So far he's not showing any short-term side effects that would also feed into the decision.

I don't think we can make this decision -- which I obsess over endlessly, far in advance -- based on what's easiest for us as parents. The number one factor is going to be school. Right now, he doesn't even need an IEP. He was on one for pre-K and K, but they said that by the end of the school year, he didn't need it anymore.

I really want to give Sunny the maximum opportunity for academic success. My cousin with severe ADHD was separated from the rest of his school and practically ignored for almost a decade. The effect on his self-esteem was devastating. He's unemployed now and living at home. I've got a lot of hope for him… once he hits his late 20s, his brain is finally going to be mature enough so that he can really start harnessing his talents. But he certainly had a rocky start.

Somwhat Inappropriate Sing-Alongs (on a Lighter Note)

A commenter on my post yesterday reminded me of another backwards counting song that starts "five little monkeys". I'm actually very familiar with the Wiggles Aussie version (Sunny LOVES the Wiggles):

Five little joeys jumping on the bed
One fell off and bumped his head
Called up the doctor, doctor said
"No more joeys jumping on the bed!"

The first time I heard that Wiggles song a few weeks ago, I was instantly reminded of the shortening bread song. I remember this song very strongly from my childhood, I just don't remember from where. I think the five little monkeys/joeys song is based off of that one, because the tune is almost exactly the same. Here's how I remember the song:

Three little children, lyin' in bed
Two were sick and the other 'most dead
Sent for the doctor and the doctor said,
"Give those children some short'nin' bread."

Mama's little baby loves short'nin', short'nin',
Mama's little baby loves short'nin' bread,
Mama's little baby loves short'nin', short'nin',
Mama's little baby loves short'nin' bread.

I was curious and did a quick search. The original has a fascinating background!

It's been covered by such various artists as Paul Robeson, The Andrews Sisters, The Beach Boys and The Cramps.

The Social Justice Plus Illicit Sex Version, Appalachian Style
Wikipedia Entry

A Foster Parent in Need

Nothing much I can add...

Peoria:
Foster mother being sued after fatal fire and
Fire victim overcome by show of support

Valerie Edwards didn't feel her skin burning the morning her house was engulfed in flames.

She was determined to save her foster child, who was trapped in her crib upstairs.

"It was a blaze," said Edwards, who repeatedly entered her burning house the morning of Dec. 26 in an attempt to save 11-month-old Anariah West. "I ran out of the house, got some air, then went back in. All I was seeing in my head was that baby."

Firefighters eventually rescued the infant, but she died later that day of smoke inhalation.

Edwards, 50, suffered third-degree burns and was in a coma for about five weeks. Her house, 821 W. Spring Hollow, was destroyed in the fire, and she is facing nearly $1 million in medical bills, having been through several surgeries and only needing more. Full of pain, both physically and emotionally, Edwards didn't think it could get any worse.

Then last month, Edwards received a letter that she is being sued by Anariah's mother, Tanesha West, who is claiming damages in excess of $50,000 for the wrongful death of her baby.

Edwards and her husband had custody of Anariah and were hoping to adopt her, though Tanesha West was hoping to regain custody at an upcoming court hearing. The couple had adopted West's three other children two years ago, but they were staying with another relative at the time of the fire.

Tanesha West didn't return phone calls for comment, and her attorney, Peter LaSorsa, said he won't comment on ongoing cases.

"I never did anything to hurt her," Edwards said of Anariah on Tuesday as she sat at a picnic table at Glen Oak Park, tears streaming down her burned face.

Edwards' open wounds were attracting gnats that she struggled to bat away with the one arm she can bend, thanks to surgery that loosened the melted skin around her elbow. She wears sleeveless shirts so her clothes don't stick to her unhealed burns.

"I was pulling her back, and her skin was coming off in my hand," said Edwards' daughter Chevodkia Wade, 27, who escaped the fire through a basement window.

Firefighters were overcome by flames when they first tried to enter Anariah's bedroom from a ladder outside the house. When they finally got to the infant, her face and neck were severely burned, and she didn't have a pulse. She was resuscitated in an ambulance but died later that day of smoke inhalation.

Edwards and the Peoria Fire Department still don't know what caused the blaze.

"The cause was never pinned down by us or the investigators the insurance company brought in," said Peoria Fire Division Chief Emil Steinseifer. "No one could pin it down, so we all just left it undetermined."

The morning of the fire, Edwards woke to the sound of a smoke detector about 1 a.m. She pulled her 9-year-old niece, Jayla Clark, from the couch. Her nephew, Nikko Clark, 19, and her daughter, Khadjah Edwards, 17, also were in the house but escaped unharmed.

Edwards' husband, Elbert, was at work.

"My neighbor called me and told me my house was on fire and my baby was trapped inside," he remembers. "That was the night my world turned upside down. I lost my sanity."

He said he and his wife treated Anariah like she was their own child.

"We know we didn't do anything wrong," he said, remembering coming home from work every day, dropping his bag and going straight to the baby. "We just wanted to give that little girl an opportunity to make something of herself."

The couple is now living in a small house with their five children and two nephews. Elbert Edwards returned to work just three weeks ago, after battling depression and staying home to care for his wife, who had two jobs of her own before the fire.

"We have missed doctor bills, and a couple times, I didn't have gas to go to Springfield for treatment," Valerie Edwards said, though making a point she doesn't want pity. She's just thankful for her family's help doing chores she can't do anymore and also for strangers who approach her and tell her she's in their prayers.

The Edwards are scheduled to appear in court at the end of September, though they know they can't afford an attorney.

"I'm going to have to walk in there and tell them I didn't kill that baby," Valerie Edwards said confidently.

A fund for the Edwards family was set up this morning through Redbrand Credit Union. Donations may be made in person at any of the three local offices: 201 E. Lake. Ave., 820 Mckinley Ave. in Bartonville or 2910 Court St. in Pekin’s Sunset Shopping Plaza. Donations also may be mailed to Redbrand Credit Union, P.O. Box 4128, Bartonville, IL 61607. Please make checks payable to the Edwards Fund.

A Few Stories About Racism and Coming Out of Ignorance

I never gave the song "Ten Little Indians" more than a few seconds of thought in my life.

A few months ago, a Native American adoptive parent I know from the internet complained that her children had been made to sing the song at a camp.

The original version, which I'd never heard, is horrific: the Indians get killed off one by one. But even in the simple counting version, it's obviously objectionable.

I suddenly realized why it was so objectionable. How would I feel if the song was "Ten Little Orientals"?

The other day, Sunny started singing the song in the car. He asked me to help him... he can count up to 100 flawlessly, but counting backwards isn't so easy.

"Sunny, I don't like to sing that song, because I think it's not very nice to the Indians to count them like that." This brought on a little sulk. "But it's just a song!" I offered to help him sing "Ten Little Boys" instead, but the rhythm was totally off, of course. I didn't tell him he couldn't sing it, just that I couldn't help him sing it. I wish I could have been more articulate.

When I was his age, I had a copy of "Little Black Sambo". I loved that book. I empathized with Sambo and his brave defeat of the tigers. As I grew up, I realized why it could be an objectionable and hurtful book. It wasn't the story or the plot; it was the visual representation that tied into a legacy of pain and dehumanization of black people. I'm not ashamed of my younger self for liking it, but I'd never, ever defend it.

I don't criticize Sunny's foster parents here because there's not a lot to criticize. They really are incredible. When people praise Sunny, I take the credit, but I don't deserve it yet, because who he is really comes from his biological parents plus the almost four years he was with his foster parents. They've done such a great job of raising him and loving him and teaching him... except in one area.

And it's not out of malice, it's simply ignorance and not knowing any better. I really believe that.

On one of our visits, we were eating dinner with the family. They were telling me about Sunny's food preferences. They joked that Sunny liked their kind of (white ethnic) food much better than fried chicken and watermelon. Sunny was sitting right next to them at the time.

My skin crawled, but I didn't know what to say. I changed the subject pretty quickly.

I mean, a lot of black people love fried chicken and watermelon. A lot of white people love fried chicken and watermelon. There's nothing WRONG with fried chicken and watermelon. But there's a long painful history of tying those foods to demeaning visual representations of black people. But how am I going to explain this politely without breaking out a slideshow? Arrgh...

His foster parents mean the best, of course. And sometimes I wonder why they decided not to adopt him. They said it's because he's so young and active and they're a lot older. They still take infant placements sometimes, though. And Sunny's special needs aren't that high. They've already adopted several children with FASD, which Sunny definitely doesn't have. One of them is a wonderfully sweet girl, but we were shocked when we found out her age, because she looks and acts about five years younger. I think one reason they didn't mention is that their very, very white social and school environment wasn't the best one for Sunny to grow up in.

It makes my position rather complicated. The only other blogger I know in my situation -- non-black, non-anglo-white parent of a black child -- is Angela at Bumpy Road. She's said before that her daughter's life would be easier if she had black parents, and I understood that logically the first time, but it's sunk in a bit more recently. I can't install pride via the force of a "we" or an "us". I'm focused on doing my best, but I'll have to think hard and take a roundabout path.

Some Natural Consequences, Responsibility, and a Letter

I pooh-poohed natural consequences as too tough at this post, but when we find them, they really do work. A couple examples:

Door-slamming during a pout, after I told him it was time to put sunscreen on. Then he came back into the living room to make sure I could see him pouting. Then he told me he was ready, and I said, "Sorry, I can't hear you, my ears hurt too much from the door slamming." After repeating this a couple times he apologized and so far hasn't slammed a door again.

A few mornings ago Sunny insisted on putting on a button-up shirt, even though it was a pool day at the day camp, and i told him he should put on a shirt that was easier to take on and off. He was digging in his heels and getting frustrated; so was I. My husband quietly intervened and reminded me to let him try it himself. A minute later Sunny changed to a T-shirt anyway because the buttons were too hard for him to put on, and he was in a good mood about it, too.

Just this morning I was playing a game of Uno with Sunny. He was not in a good mood. Within a few cards, he got upset and went into the beginning part of a fake-cry just because I played a "Draw 2" card. He loves Uno and can be a good player. Sometimes he gets very upset when he's losing (according to my new Bible, this is common for 6-year-olds) but only after we've been playing for a while. We usually just talk him down from it gently, and then keep playing. But getting so upset within a few opening cards is really not good at all. I told him that it was too hard to play Uno with him when he was pouting like that, and put away the cards. He went into a full pout/mini-tantrum (the one that lasts 1-2 minutes). "You're the meanest mom! You always have to break my heart!" Yikes... I just said, "I love you, Sunny, I just don't love that pouting." Then in a few more seconds he was over it, we hugged, and we had fun playing some Legos together instead.

Last week, we gave Sunny a wristwatch with a siren alarm on it. We impressed on him that he was only supposed to use the siren in emergencies, or if he got lost from us in a crowd. He's been incredibly responsible with it... well, he did let it off once at a picnic in the distance, but we pretended not to hear. He loves tinkering with it and telling the time. "THE TIME IS NOW 8:09!!" he'll loudly announce. I think the wristwatch definitely helps him to feel more in control of his environment.

He also spontaneously managed to play by himself (in the same room as us) for about three to five minutes. This is a major milestone.

We finally got our temporary Medicaid card, so we can go ahead and schedule the therapist, psychiatrist, physical and dental appointments.

I'm skeptical about Sunny's tentative bipolar designation. His behavior is often frustrating for us, as new and inexperienced parents, but comparatively speaking, it's quite mild. He has better manners, self-confidence and social skills than many children without a foster care background. He's just very emotionally needy, attention-seeking and has a short attention span.

That being said, I'm prepared for the possibility of being 100% wrong. It will be hard to say until we take him off the medication. We have a lot more control in this area than his foster family did.

I recently got Sunny to select some cards for his bio mom and also a friend of his, and asked him to sign them "Love, Sunny". I copied the card and the letter I wrote before I sent them, and then saved them in his lifebook for later.

I thanked her for working with the social worker to send along the pictures from his early childhood. I gave her some updates on Sunny's activities, such as learning to skateboard and going to a waterpark, and enclosed a couple recent photos. I said he missed his home state but was happy here in Georgia and making new friends. Lastly, I promised to send another update package when he started school in the fall.

In Sunny's understanding, she loves him and would like to be with him, but she was sick and needed to get better. Sunny doesn't feel very attached to her right now; his foster mother was his main parental figure. It was hard even getting him to take time to sign the card. But just because he doesn't feel strongly about her at this moment in time doesn't mean he won't feel strongly in the future. I'm not going to force anything on him; I just want to maintain the connection so that he can reach out when he's ready.

Jeff Yang's Article on Asian Interracial Relationships

I don't talk about this subject very much at this blog.

But I agree 100% with everything Jeff Yang says. His article is incredible. Comprehensive, balanced, thoughtful, persuasive.

If you read some of the comments, you'll see why I don't discuss the subject. There's too much ignorance, and it would wear me down to a nub trying to fight against it.

But read the article.

The Problem with Black-Themed Children's Books

I've discovered a serious problem as I'm searching to buy more. For the stage Sunny's at right now, they're either too negative or not exciting enough.

The ones about African-American history look exciting, but they bring up subjects I don't want to start discussing at this age. I'd rather wait at least a year or two.

The themes of the positive ones are... well... kind of crunchy, for lack of a better word. They would be great if he was already raised on that type of book and used to it. But he's not. He likes Dr. Seuss books, and then he likes things with trucks and spaceships and power rings and monsters and talking animals. It's difficult to get him to read anything else, and I certainly don't want to set up a dynamic where the only books he reads with black characters are the "boring" ones.

I've been doing internet searches and not coming up with a lot.

Here are three so far:
Bear on a Bike: this is below his level, but I think he'll really like the pictures.
I Need a Lunchbox: "A black girl is beginning first grade and getting all sorts of goodies, in particular a lunch box for which her little brother yearns with a single-minded passion. [...] At last, on his sister's first day of school, their father surprises the boy with a spaceship lunch box of his own." I think Sunny could really relate to the story.
Chinye: A West African Folk Tale: This story is very similar to Cinderella; it looks exciting and full of action.

What I'm really looking for is a rhyming picture book of a black truck driver with a talking animal sidekick whose truck can transform into a spaceship to fight monsters. As Sunny says, "that would be AWESOME good!"