Some rules about same-sex adoption. Or just skip to the end and find out where you are illegal.

I’m not sure why, but I’m in the mood to be especially helpful this week. So I’m providing you with the map below. Actually, wikipedia is providing it to you. I just copied it. But this is the internet, and it’s totally fine to steal content on the internet. It’s called “going viral.”

Anyway. The map is a picture of all the places in the world that same-sex couples can legally adopt a child together or adopt each other’s biological children.

Oh? Did I not mention that part so far?

Well, here is the deal. If you are part of a same-sex couple, you have one of two problems — too many vaginas or too many penises. I know it’s hard to imagine such a thing as too many penises. But try. And in my case, there were too many vaginas and as a result the baby could only come out of one vagina and the owner of the other vagina needed to adopt. At least, that’s my opinion, because I wanted Pam to be able to keep our children. And sign them up for school and take them to the doctor, because I had already done my part — birthing them.

And just to make sure we have covered all the bases, if there are too many penises in the relationship — again hard to imagine — but then there is no vagina for the baby to come out of. So my recommendation would be that both of the penis owners adopt.

And now that we’re all clear on that, here is the map.

same-sex adoption worldwide

Check it out. The places that are colored lavender (of course!) in the map are the only places in the world that same-sex couples can adopt children. And in case you haven’t already figured this out on your own, it’s super-duper important for same-sex couples to be able to adopt children.


Because in spite of how much complaining we all do about our kids, most of us agree that we definitely do not want them taken away from us like one Russian lawmaker is proposing to do. Or in contrast, in my lovely state, where Colorado Speaker of the House Mark Ferrandino, just adopted his daughter with his partner, Greg Wertsch. Adorbs! Why wouldn’t we want these people to be together?

And here is a lot more helpful information. Because it’s just that kind of week.

ACLU’s details same-sex adoption laws in the U.S. 

A really helpful Q&A site for U.S. adoptions

Lots of details about same-sex adoption in every country in the world

And last, but not least, find out if you are illegal in any country in the world

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© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Before you get the baby room ready, you might want to move out of state

Dear people from Arizona, Kentucky, Mississippi, Nebraska, North Carolina, Ohio, Utah and Wisconsin: We have some work to do… Or if you’re lazy, you should just move. These states need some help understanding second-parent adoption, so get your pencils or pick up the phone or text someone because children are in danger. (Source: Medical Daily, June 25, 2013)

Arizona prefers to give babies that need to be adopted to straight couples. And just a guess, but we probably would have been kicked out of the state entirely for trying to adopt two little Mexicans.

In Kentucky you need to be married to become a step parent. And I’m just guessing, but I bet they are not psyched about two girls or two boys getting married.

Mississippi went right out there and prohibited couples of the same gender from adopting. Thanks for being so clear about this, d bags.

Nebraska, North Carolina, Wisconsin and Ohio just simply don’t allow it, thank you very much.

Utah rounds out the whole package by doing both — giving preference to straight people and preventing unmarried and gay couples from adopting. All hail my home country.

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Frankie the chihuahua gets a home and a name, spoiler alert, it’s Frankie

The first night with Frankie was an telling one — as is the first night with any new family member. I put her on a dog bed in our room, because in my experience, that the best place for dogs for a lot of reasons.

But this was not the best place for Frankie. At least not according to Frankie. The best place was right between my collar bone and my chin. And I don’t know if you’ve seen my neck. It’s pretty great. But I like to keep it to myself for my own enjoyment, especially at night.

So, I rolled Frankie into a tiny little ball and put her on the dog bed, then got into my side of bed and turned off the light. The second it was dark, I was attacked. This is your worse nightmare. I thought of all the horror movies I have never seen. Beasts, monsters, psychopaths, hockey players attacking as soon as you were horizontal, naked, blinded by the darkness and female. I panicked.

And then I realized it was Frankie. On my neck.

I picked her up and put her back on the dog bed. Turned out the light. She was back on my neck. I barely had time to turn out the light. I put her back on her bed. She was back on my neck. She was getting good at this. Bed. Neck. Bed. Neck. This was war.

I gave up.

For the next two nights Frankie slept on my neck. And it was kind of nice. For Frankie. And then we found out that our neighbor’s mother was searching for the perfect dog, because her’s had recently died and she adored dogs. We brought Frankie by for a visit. It was love at first sight. So we gave Frankie to her. And she gave Frankie the name Frankie. And the last I heard they were living happily-ever-after in some new outfits with a new purse, something I could have never could have given Frankie. That, and a permanent sleeping space on my neck.

Which brings me to my next point. Unlike dogs, once you decide to have children, it’s not a decision that you can take back. In fact, I think it might be the only decision you can’t take back. OK, besides suicide. But that’s different. Because it involves death. And this involves life. Nevermind, I can see how they are related.

But back to my original point of the Frankie story. I have found dogs to be a reasonable analogy for children, except that you can’t give a child away if it sleeps on your neck. Oh, except you can. It’s called adoption. But Frankie is the only dog that we got and then gave away. We kept all the others.

And some of them we had planned to get and others we had not. But we definitely wanted all of them. Just like kids. So more on that next time.

A commentary on race, class and gender or why we need to so many Barbies

Our current Barbie count is seven — four adult females, two adult males and one child, also female. We have two blond Barbies. Two black-haired Barbies. A Ken. A little girl Barbie named Chelsea. And Danny Wood. Yes, the guy from New Kids on the Block. I purchased the blond Barbies, as well as Ken and Chelsea, who are also blond. We adopted the other three (the dark ones, I might add) from day care.

For me, every Barbie has a theme, one that the manufacturer intended, and another one which I am using to justify the ownership of so many Barbies.

For example, one of the black-haired Barbies came with knee pads, elbow pads and one rollerblade. No helmet. OK. She’s an athlete and a risk taker. That’s a good role model, right? The only problem I have is the lack of helmet. But even if she had one, it probably wouldn’t fit. Inexplicably, all Barbie hair is approximately 10 times the thickness of ordinary human hair. Putting anything on her head is like trying to shove a marshmallow to the bottom of a cup of cocoa.

Now, onto the child.

One of the blond Barbies, Big Barbie as she came to be known, was in the same box as Chelsea with a miniature toilet and a sink. Is Big Barbie the sister? A single mom? Hey, it’s family helping family. Regardless, this was very handy during potty training time, when my daughter and I could go through all the steps for using the toilet with Chelsea and Big Barbie before we tried it ourselves.

And then there are the guys.

They are fine, I suppose, but having Ken – the Ultimate Boyfriend – has reinforced some behavior that I don’t love. Ken has a recording device in his chest that allows you to say things like “naked butt” and then repeat them in three different tones of voice. Awesome (not). But last night I noticed Barbie wearing Ken’s shirt and jeans. So that’s a good sign. We’re not letting gender stereotypes dictate the dress code.

This leaves Danny Wood. His plastic head is painted with black hair, but he also has a two-inch string of black hair down his back, which makes me fondly refer to him (in my mind only, people!) as sperm head. He’s kind of gross. I don’t share this with my daughter, because I don’t want to be a Barbie racist, but if I had my way, I would not have gone back up to her bedroom last night to help her take off his pants. So I guess that’s my lesson. I need to be more open-minded about Danny, his needs and his sense of style.

In a few weeks, we’re getting two more Barbies for Christmas. Yes, blond! I have already bought them and they are hidden in the trunk of my car – a good place to hide presents, I might add. One Barbie is a doctor and the other comes with the Malibu Dream House. So that’s good. We’ll have one with a post-graduate education and another with the good sense to invest in real estate that will increase in value. Whoever said there is anything wrong with Barbie?

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