The questions of the great unwashed masses

Do you know any tactless people? Well, when you adopt, get ready to discover some more! In the last three years, people have come out of the woodwork to ask me ridiculous, insulting questions and make, well, idiot remarks. Sorry. No better way to put that.

One of my fellow bloggers just posted about her experiences with questions and remarks about the adorable Island Boy in the last few weeks and it just got me thinking.

Here are some of my "favorite" remarks and/or questions since 2005 (all of which were said right in front of my daughter who is NOT deaf and DOES understand English):

How much did she cost?

Does she know she's adopted? Or: Is she adopted? (No, genetics just made left turn when my husband and I, the Euro-mutts, gave birth to a Chinese girl)

It's a shame you can't have a child of your own. (Oh? You're telling my daughter she's not my child? Thanks. Jerk.)

Don't they kill baby girls in China?

What a China doll. (pretty racially insensitive and boring to kids after the 800th time)

I bet she'll be a really good gymnast. It's in her blood.

Does she drink a lot of tea?

Does she have a Chinese accent?

Did you have to teach her not to speak Chinese? (at age one and a half, when she arrived? please.)

I guess she still speaks Chinese then, huh?

It's such a shame they hate girls in China. How could anyone throw her away? (in front of my daughter? hey, thanks.)

I guess you couldn't get a boy, then, huh?

Does she know who her mother is? (yes. I'm her mother. Jerk.)

Gosh, that's just like [third world nation] where they bury/drown/kill their girls. (Yes, I actually got that remark from a college-educated young lady at the gym last night. Blargh.)

Why can't YOU have a baby? Don't you wish you could? (Hey, we didn't actually even TRY the traditional way, but thanks for that comment on my/our fertility. Jerk.)

Why don't you adopt an American baby?

Why are you helping Chinese babies when you can help American babies here?

Gosh, won't she be grateful? (I don't know. Are your bio kids grateful? I suspect she'll be as grateful as any child leading an upper middle class life. Not very.)

Isn't she lucky? (Nope. I am. Jerk.)

Okay, I usually don't say the things in parentheses, but I bet you can understand why I'd want to, every now and then.

Mostly I've learned to ignore these remarks and, happily, I've come up with some slick retorts. And, if all else fails, I can give them the I-am-a-former-prosecutor glare over the top of my glasses. When it's accompanied by "I BEG YOUR PARDON?" sometimes people will acquire a sense of shame and realize they've been a boob. But not that often.

And don't get me started on the men and women right around our parents' ages and a little older. I have gotten (and returned in kind, by the way) some glares that would melt paint right off the wall. And I'm not talking about my kid being noisy. Just her existence in my family seems to cheese some people right off. And yes, each and every one of the above remarks has been made to me in the last three years. In fact, one of the great themes throughout many remarks has been to question my patriotism. Let me tell you, I just LOVE that.

So. Sorry for the rant. It's early, my puppy woke me up at 5 a.m. to go out after I fell asleep at midnight and I spent and hour and a half at the gym last night. But there you have it. Adoptive mommying has some challenges you wouldn't really expect.