Real Sisters

We have always gotten a lot of attention in public. We got our first two girls when adoption was not that common in our area. In addition to this, they were tiny and adorable, meaning I couldn't even get a gallon of milk in under half an hour due to the inquisitive people I saw along the way. Seriously, I began leaving them at home most of the time just to avoid the constant barrage of questions. Educating others about adoption is something I love to do, but satisfying another's curiosity is one thing I am increasingly losing patience with, especially now that it makes my children feel uncomfortable.

I have never really figured out the appropriate response to the question, "Are they twins?". By "appropriate", I mean one that lets me walk away with no further comment necessary. The true answer,"They are a month apart to the day.", begs for answers to immediate questions from even the casual bystander.

When my girls were old enough to understand the conversation I just started saying, "Yes." in answer to the twins question, rationalizing that they are what the adoption world calls artificial twins (i.e. children belonging to the same family less than 11 months apart in age). However, my dark-haired Jiminy Cricket heard me once and turned on me. "We are NOT twins.", she informed me, "You lied!". My explanation that I only wanted to avoid sharing personal information and a lengthy conversation sounded weak to even my ears given that we are talking about LYING, which is a sin of massive consequence in our house.

Yesterday's confrontation has me considering going back to my original strategy, lying and all. While trying to sign them into Sunday School.....

Her (smiling)- "I bet they are twins."
Me (smiling)- "No, they are a month apart in age."
Her- "Oh. So I guess they are not sisters."
Me (eyes wide for emphasis, still smiling)- "They are sisters!"
Her (puzzled)- "I don't see how that can be. You said they are a month apart. That's just not possible for them to be 'sisters'."
Me (panicking because I can't find their names on the list- fake smile)-"See these three girls, they are all my children and they are all sisters. I can't seem to find their names. Where do I sign them in?"
Her (ignoring me)- "So they aren't 'sisters', they are adopted."
Me (cheshire grin)- "They are adopted and sisters. REALLY SISTERS! Is this where I fill out their names?"
Her (shaking head)- "I just don't understand how that can be. So they aren't biological sisters. They aren't 'sisters'."

My girls stood there open mouthed and silent as this exchange went seemingly on and on. Dear Hubby walked away fairly early in the conversation, unable to handle it. If I ever need rescuing from a burning building or somehow get trapped under a car, I am married to the right man. He will risk his life for mine anytime. However, in situations like these, he deserts me faster than one can shout,"It's every man for himself!"

Another woman working the table finally suggested to my inquisitor that I probably didn't want to discuss this with her right now and I was able to get my children signed in and to their class. I heard very little of the sermon as I was working out the conversation I would have with my girls later on that day. The phrase, "Damage control", rolled through my mind over and over.

Frankly, I don't understand why anyone finds the biology portion so necessary to define, and if I am being honest, it's an area where I was sensitive growing up. I was the only child of parents who divorced while I was young. Each went on to have other children- my siblings. I can't tell you how many times I heard, "So you don't have any 'real' brothers or sisters." Now remember, I share half a parental gene pool with all of them and it still made me insecure.

So why do people feel they need to label the "realness" of a family? Isn't it enough that we claim the relationship, however it came to be? My grandmother thought so. No one in the family really knows how many grandchildren she has, the true number she keeps in her mind. We only knew about the 20 children living in her children's homes and the two girls who lived next door (cousins to this day). It was useless to try to keep track of which daycare child etc. was now officially a grandchild to her. There were just too many and new ones came all the time.

That's how I always wanted my family to be, one that didn't differentiate between biology and adoption. I got my wish even beyond my high expectations. Recently, my son's youth pastor of 3 years could not pick out who my daughters were on a mostly blond soccer team because my son had never told him they were adopted. The question from acquaintances, "How is she your sister?", is likely to be answered, "Because she is.", with a "Why would you ask?", expression on their face. My oldest son recently won a writing contest with an essay about traveling with us to get E in China. He notes that the second we got her, she was his sister. She just was. I think the other children felt the same way. God help the one that challenges the legitimacy of their claim.

So... enough said. They are real sisters; no quotation marks necessary.