Kinda Mama

I knew at an early age that I wanted to me a mama. When I was pregnant with Bunny, I was so excited to be a "real mama". But I have a been a "kinda mama" for a long time now. Actually, I think that I was first a mama to my little sister, Katie. We adopted her and her two older brothers when she was four. As part of our intentional bonding process, we babied her. We carried her everywhere she wanted us to, we rocked and cuddled her to sleep, we called her Katie Koo (and still do), we sang her special songs, etc, etc. She slept in a trundle bed that pulled out from under mine. She would often climb into my bed or Mama's bed down the hall. And she slowly became our baby girl. From there, we were able to teach her and help her grow into our little girl.

I took it upon myself, at the age of 11, to teach her preschool (we were all homeschooled). I spent about an hour a day teaching her school, and countless hours teaching her life and love. Though a general lesson plan was supplied by Mama, I was responsible for the sculpting of her young mind. A responsibility that I did not take lightly. I gave her my all, and she gave me hers. I saw the pride in her eyes when she would grasp a new concept or learn a new skill. I felt the pride in my own heart, knowing that I had taught her that skill. She had very poor speech due to having no teeth (she had to have them all pulled after she was removed from the birth home) and for a long while, I was the only one who knew exactly what she was saying. Though I am her sister, I am also her kinda mama.



Katie and Bunny


It has been over nine years since I first met that little girl with pig-tails. Katie is now 13. She has braces and wears bras. She has lots of friends, is very outgoing, and gets mad when somebody says that she "like likes" a boy. She is in ninth grade, still homeschooled, and though most of us ended up going to public school at some point, she says she never will. She is stubborn and sweet. She wants Bunny to call her "Aunt Sissy", because she thinks that they are sisters. She is my helper, my minion, my right hand man (or girl). Some days, she is so mature and responsible that I think she doesn't need me to teach her any more. Some days, I wonder if I have taught her anything at all. Then every now and then, she teaches me. We have no secrets, her and I. We couldn't, it would drive us crazy. She spills her guts to me. She cries on my shoulder. She wishes that she was always ours, that we had "raised her from a baby". But the truth is that she was and we did. She was our baby girl, our little girl, and now... she is just ours.