Five Perks of Being Adopted


I was adopted by my parents when I was four-weeks old in the state of Missouri.  No, I don’t remember the occasion, but I wish I did because it was apparently a great cause for celebration in our family and I really hate to miss a good party.

Reliable sources say my adoption didn’t happen like this:


“Welcome to McDonald’s.  Can I take your order?’

“Yes, I’d like one small female ginger infant, a large order of fries, and Diet Coke to go, please.”

Can you imagine how long the drive-thru line would be?

I don’t know the identity of my birth parents as Missouri at that time was a closed records state.  Some facts that were given to my adoptive parents were that my birth parents were in their late 30s when I was born, my mother was a ginger, and my father was a blonde.  My bloodline includes a smorgasbord of Irish, Scottish, English and French blood.  Sounds like I might be related to Braveheart.

Being adopted can be a burden at times for some adopted children.  I never have understood this because I have found there are many perks to being adopted.

1.  I don’t have to claim my relatives.

Not that I have actually done this or anything, but if a relative is especially annoying, I can honestly say to people, “Oh, him? No, we aren’t related.”  Because truthfully we aren’t related.  At least blood-wise.  But once again, it’s not like I would ever do such a thing.  Really.  That would be rude.

2.  The allure of the unknown.

Since the identity of my birth family is unknown to me, I used to fantasize when I was younger that my birth parents must have been some famous star-crossed lovers that had to keep their love a secret by giving their love child (that would be me) up for adoption.  With my fantasy also came the part where they realized that they really DID want me and would come and take me back to live with them in their mansion with the huge built-in swimming pool in the Hollywood Hills.  They would share custody with my birth parents, of course.  This fantasy seemed to take place more often in instances when I was miffed at my mom for making me clean my room or something completely unreasonable such as that.

3.  The novelty.

Being adopted upgraded my status rating when I was younger simply because none of my friends or classmates could claim that distinction.  Being adopted seemed hip, cool, unique.  And believe me, with the way my hair looked during my middle school years, anything to upgrade my social ranking was welcomed.

4.  The shock value.

If you haven’t figured out from my blog name, I am a ginger.  My adoptive mom, who is a blonde, can be a funny gal at times.  When I was young, people would see us together and they would often ask me, “Where did you get your red hair?”  As prompted by mom, I would reply, “From my mother.”  Of course the look of confusion as they glanced from my blonde mom to me, the little ginger,was priceless.

5.  I got a family that chose me.  

I consider myself extremely blessed to be adopted because my adoptive parents made the choice to bring me into the fold to raise and nurture me.  And they did a terrific job of it, if I do say so myself.  We didn’t have a house in the Hollywood Hills, or a pool in the backyard, but we did have a home filled with love and faith.  That’s all a family truly needs.

Marti 1 month old

This is me shortly after I came to live with my forever family.  Add 100+ pounds, freckles, and more hair and that’s pretty much how I look now.

Marti Ernie Dad Sept 66

My brother, dad and I shortly after my adoption.  They look happy and I look like I could benefit from a nap.


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