So I’m noodling around Facebook like I do whenever I’m bored with what I’m working on which has been frequently the last week or so and I happen upon a closed Facebook group called Nicaragua Adoptive Families.
So because I have three, now adult, children adopted from Nicaragua, I figure, hey, I should join this group so I click on ‘sign me up’ or ‘let me in’ or whatever it was and went back to writing a very complicated grant proposal for a drug treatment court.
So, of course, it wasn’t even 10 minutes before I’d gotten bored with explaining the drug testing protocol including the assurance that all peeing would be directly observed by staff so I noodled back to Facebook where I saw a message from the administrator of Nicaragua Adoptive Families.
Hi Jan, Thanks for your interest in our group. Please reply with your connection to Nicaragua adoptions and we will gladly approve your membership!
I flipped a switch into the teeniest bit of indignation. Really? I have to justify myself? You couldn’t tell by my clicking on your Facebook page who I am? You know, like how elected officials cry out “Don’t you know who I am?” when a cop stops them for drunk driving?
I wrote a long paragraph crammed into the Facebook message box, the lines scrolling up into the netherworld, the resume growing longer by the minute. Oh, let me tell you about my connection to Nicaragua adoptions, you with the gleaming toddlers and the birthday cakes decorated with the Nicaraguan flag.
I told her about my kids and about the many other Nica kids living in Milwaukee, all adopted from the same orphanage in Managua in the 80’s and 90’s. I told her that they were all adults now with children of their own, that we had our little community here, even our own Facebook page. I wanted to send pictures, demonstrate my seniority, my experience. I wanted to say I have already done what you are doing. I raised people. They are people now, not children anymore.
I sent the message and waited, figuring that she’d be zooming back a message to me, dying to find out more, make a connection with me, oh, great experienced adoptive mother of Nicaraguan children. I was ready to impart my wisdom. I might even be ready to put my work aside for a few minutes to sort through the requests for advice.
Great! Welcome to the group.
#54/100: 54th in a series of 100 in 100