Spent the morning at a park in Battleground WA. We went to a yard sale and Davy got a bunch of beaded necklaces that make her look like Mrs. T. We had a picnic and threw rocks in the river. It was peaceful and lovely. For someone who “hates” nature, today represented the Pacific Northwest in all of its glory.

I got to spend my day with my two favorite people on the planet. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Andy and I refer to us and our adopted friends the “brown kid club”. We are lucky in
that we have created a community around us with many adoptive and non-adoptive families. That said, Portland is um, very very very very white. Very white. Did I mention how white Portland its? It is- very. We are more often than not, the only transracial family in the room. More over Davy is often the only brown kid in the room. Not surprised. It’s really fine. Only one adult has asked to touch her hair. I socked her in the gut, she isn’t asking anymore. Not bad given the odds.

We have been taking these music classes which leave me deeply ambivalent. Everyone is white, the music is white. Hell, there are 5 kids from Germany in her class whose parents sing in perfect earnest falsettos. Davy loves music. She has a crush on the teacher and loves to play with the interments. I love spending time with her. In classes, she is usually more of a watcher than anything else. I think she loves it, but she is often not her most exuberant when it comes to group activities. I joked on Facebook that Music Together is the whitest thing I could do for my kid. My friend said it was dorky but there is nothing white about learning rhythm and tone. She is totally correct.

Last night we went to a street fair. They had a band playing the blues. Davy totally flipped out and she LOVED it. She danced for a really really long time. Good solid, uninhibited, arms flailing, feet stomping toddler dancing. Then she got distracted by a popsicle and all dancing ceased.

I realized what bugged me about Music Together wasn’t the whiteness. Whiteness is part of our everyday lives. It was its lack of SOUL. The kind of soul that makes my baby dance like her adorable tuchas is on fire.