Happy Friday - Who's Yo Daddy?

Happy Friday Everyone,

On this beautiful morning, I ponder a gazillion things, including, but not limited to:

Mentholatum? Yes, Mentholatum and my mom's addiction to it. She shoves it up her nose nightly. It does clear the sinus and keeps the room winterfresh? 

This photograph from Mars featuring a rock resembling Davy Jones from Pirates of the Carribean. 

How in hell did I end up on Mars?

Wondering how presidential hopeful Deez Nuts will decorate the White House if he wins the election.

And last, but certainly most related to the theme of this bitchin' blog: fatherhood.

How do fathers fit into this whole adoption thing?

It takes two to tango, right? I had a birthfather out there in the world, too. My experience with my adopted father wasn't positive. He remarried when I was thirteen and told me our relationship was over. We were never close to begin with (I know a rotten egg when I smell one) but still, who does that?  I thought it was a joke. The next summer, when we didn't visit him in Vegas, I knew he meant what he said. Then the child support payments stopped. Seriously, that's one giant, smelly egg who missed out on this gal, her equally amazing brother, and the best bunch of grandkids a grandparent could hope for.

What's the point of the last paragraph? I didn't have a male role model and I didn't have a burning desire to have one. Thankfully, I was never one of those lost girls searching for a guy to fill the void left by an absentee father. My picker wasn't broken. Bad boys, no thank you. I craved dependability and have a peach of a husband. 

When I found out my birthfather and birthmother married after having yours truly and graduating high school, I was shocked. I had a DAD? A dad who wanted a relationship with me. I was like a deer in headlights - stunned and unable to move. I felt unsure, exposed, and started bricking a fortress around myself, to protect against who - him? I don't know. He'd been nothing but nice. Still, this situation was extremely uncomfortable. 

The unknown can be scary. If only we had a crystal ball or a flashy psychic to tell us everything will turn out alright. If you believe in a higher power, or even have a spiritual side, you can pray or meditate in attempts to ease your mind, to realize there is a grand design and all the worry in the world won't help you see the future or figure things out. 

Now, I don't fret about my birthfather because I met him in person last September.  He and his wife, after getting the green light from me, flew to my town, booked a hotel and spent almost a week exploring my world. He was the last birth relative I met and the one I worried about the most. 

What would I say? Did we have anything in common? How do you summarize the last 41 years of life? 

Guess what?

Alanis Morrisette's line in her song "Ironic" sums it up. "And life has a funny, funny way of helping you out." 

We had a grand time! All that worry for nothing. I know, I know, trying to not worry is easier said than done. However, time and time again past experience has shown me there is no reason to sweat the unknown. 

Poor guy had no idea what he was in for when he reunited with me...

Nature vs. Nurture

Genetics are a crazy thing. When you're an adoptee from a closed adoption, the whole genetic thing is a big, fat question mark. Did I learn certain behaviors and responses from the family who raised me or is it something cellular?

I think my adopted brother ( I use adopted for clarity. He's my brother, through and through) and I look alike, even though he has dark hair and eyes. In our dated Olan Mills pictures, we have the same uncomfortable smile painted across our face. Our eyes and noses have a similar shape. It's hard to tell we don't share DNA. Hell, my husband has blue eyes and blonde hair, his mom is a brown-eyed brunette.

Then there's the whole quirky factor. When my adopted brother and mom mixed their Thanksgiving dinner together, I gagged.  Foods aren't meant to be mixed or even touch. If green bean juice flowed  into my mashed potatoes - game over. Done. I never noticed I ate my food clockwise until my mother-in-law pointed it out. Corn. Then green beans. Turkey. Potatoes. No back and forth. I finish one and move to the next. Weird? Don't judge!

When I found out I had two biological brothers, I flipped. After a long discussion with the oldest of the two, I discovered we had so much in common it was eerie. He ate clockwise as well, finishing one thing before moving to the next. Something he never noticed until a friend pointed it out. We liked the same movies, not just one. The same favorite movies: The Royal Tenenbaums and Snatch. Those aren't mainstream. They're quirky, like us. 

When I vacationed with my birth mom and birth granny, they hated the morning like me. No complete sentences formed until we had a pot of coffee in our system. Night owls. We didn't care about getting the worm. We wanted sleep. Period. 

What do you think influences a person the most? Nature? Or Nurture? Do you act like your family? Do you wish you were adopted 😉? Talk to me!