Ain't No Saint

There's something that bugs me. I know, you're thinking which thing? You're right, I'm not the most patient or even-tempered person in the world. I know this about myself. But really, this just adds to my point. I'm no saint...faaaar from it.

Some people that we have encountered through recent years have thought that we are such "good people" or even as far as "saints" because we adopted children. Puh-lease. Did it ever occur to people that this was a means to an end? I'm talking selfish reasons. We wanted to parent kids. And here's where my patience plays into it, birthing a kid wasn't happening quickly enough, so what did we do? Adopt. We planned on four kids. We planned on adopting two and birthing two. God has different plans sometimes despite our own grandiose ideas. Who knows if numero cuatro is in the plan somewhere (I have my own plans, but those have proven unreliable).

To me, I don't care whether my kids come from my body or Haiti or wherever. I'm not biologically related to Eugene and I chose him as my life partner. I say 'pishaw' to those who say that blood ties are the strongest. You can't choose your family. Even when you adopt, which implies some choice, in most cases you don't know who your child is before they come home to you, just like you wouldn't know who your biological child is until they are born.

So back to the people who think that our hearts must be so "good" to have adopted. Gimme a break. There was no charity. There was a need...we needed kids and the kids needed us. Period. I don't think saints get angry at their kids, or impatient, or irritible. And saints don't have to make concerted efforts to do the right thing. Being highly regarded or admired is a lot of pressure for someone so far from perfect.