Look alikes

When I was growing up, all I wanted was to look like someone.

Fortunately, my big sister was also a tall blonde so even though we were from a Middle Eastern family and our blond hair and blue eyes made no sense, people figured since there were two of us there must be some seriously powerful recessive genes at work.

When I was twenty two, I met my birth family.

First my birth mother, half brother and sister, and my stepfather.

Then my birth father and all his brothers and sisters.

I’ll never forget someone showed up to my birth father’s house with a box of “It’s a Girl” cigars.

I have my birth mother’s eyes.

And her hands.

I have her spirit too – all friendly and funny.

But the rest of me reminds me of my birth father’s side of the family – my long face, my big lips, my round butt.

Example 1 – my cousin and her daughter:

Damn, if we don’t look like relations then I don’t know anyone who does.

Example 2 – an app which turns you into the opposite sex:

Now tell me I’m not the spitting image of my birth father in THAT picture.

It’s thrilling really, to actually look like someone.

Not a day goes by that I don’t get a kick out of looking like Sherri and Paul.

It’s one of the gifts of reunion I never take for granted.

I finally know where I come from.

I’m a millionaire

Mother’s Day is coming up!

I just realized this.

Which means I have to get something for my mom, my birthmom, stepmom and my grandma.

I am thinking I’ll get some really beautiful handmade cards for each of them.

I’m sort of in love with these POP UP cards from ScrappyTailsCrafts on Etsy:

Aren’t they just BEAUTIFUL?!

Just like my moms, my stepmom and my grandma!

And I always try to do something special for my friend Barbara, whose mother passed away a few years ago (and on my birthday).

I know she keenly feels the loss, and Mother’s Day just exacerbates it.

Usually I send flowers, and I’m thinking this year I’ll send something a little different.

Like a cookie bouquet!

A tasty treat for my dear friend.

As always, Mother’s Day makes me realize how many SPECTACULAR WOMEN I have in my life, not just my mothers, but also my sisters, aunts, and friends.

I believe you can measure the happiness in your life by the number of really close female relationships you have.

And in that respect, I’m a millionaire!

My Reunion Story

Sherri, pregnant at her 8th grade graduation

I remember the EXACT date I lost my virginity.

July 8, 1989.

I was 15 years old.

It’s ironic then, that I don’t know the date for something as MOMENTOUS as meeting my birth parents for the first time.

It was spring.

I know that because all the tulips in my yard were in full bloom.

For the rest of my life I’ll always associate tulips with my birth mother.

Finding your birth parents isn’t as hard as you’d think.

At least not for me.

My mom told me she knew my birth mother’s name from the adoption paperwork.

Brandon, Brett (ex), me, Sherri and Lani

So when I was 17, I asked for her name.

My mom wrote it down on a piece of paper, handed it to me, and walked out of the room.

After a little research I finally got the phone number to my birth mother’s in laws.

I called one day and asked for Sherri or Vince (her husband).

They gave me their phone number.

Just like that.

I stared at that number.

It was burned in my brain.

It took me 5 years to work up the courage to call that number.

One day, I called the number fully intending to ask for a random name – Elizabeth.

Art, me, my dad, a friend, and Cy

When my birth mother answered the phone, she had the MOST BEAUTIFUL voice I’d ever heard and I knew that someone with a voice like that would not be mean to me.

So I asked for Sherri.

“This is she,” she responded.

“I’d like to talk to you about something personal. Is now a good time?” I asked.

“Yes,” there was concern in her voice.

“I’m looking for my birth mother. . .”

I visited her the very next day and got to meet her husband and my sister and brother.

She told me who my birth father was and he was listed in the phone book.

So instead of driving home, I called him.

His (ex) wife answered the phone.

I asked for Paul.

She asked who I was.

I wanted to tell him directly so I just said my name.

She hung up on me.

I called back.

“Just tell him it’s Sherri’s daughter,” I responded.

She repeated what I said to him. Then she repeated it again, this time with gravitas.

They knew what this meant.

Paul had a daughter.

He asked me to pull into a local Denny’s where he said he’d meet me.

He showed up 15 minutes later, with his (ex) wife and her daughter.

We (my ex-husband) and I followed him to his house and slowly, his siblings and friends started trickling in.

Someone brought an “It’s a Girl!” cigar for him.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

What can I say about my reunion?

It truly was an ideal reunion and I feel blessed that my birth mother and my birth father accepted me so openly and lovingly.

Two eighth graders accidentally made a baby, and gave me an ideal home to grow up in.

I regret nothing except perhaps that I didn’t meet them sooner.

I am blessed.




Here are the people who made me.

I am forever grateful that two eighth graders fell in love at such a young age and acted WAY OLDER THAN THEY SHOULD HAVE when they made ME!

I personally think I look like my birth father’s side of the family but I have a lot of my birth mother’s personality traits.

I also have her eyes, her hands, and her legs.

There’s something about growing up not knowing who you look like that makes it ever so much more touching when you find out that yes, you do in fact resemble someone else.

And in my case, it’s nice that I take after both my birth parents.

Someday I may post the whole story because people seem incredibly interested in reunion stories.

The short version is I called my birth mom and told her who I was and I went to visit her the next day.

She told me who my birth father was and I stopped and visited him on my way home.

He invited all of his 5 siblings over his house to meet me and I’ll never forget someone showed up with an “It’s a Girl” cigar.

As far as reunions go, mine has been ideal.

I met my birth family when I was 22.

It has now been almost 22 years that I’ve known them.

Soon I’ll have known them longer than I was living without them.

But the BEST PART OF BEING ADOPTED AND REUNITED, besides finally knowing where you came from, is that you get oodles of SIBLINGS!

Here’s to Lisa, Omar, Cy, Lani, Art, and Brandon.

I heart all of you.


One lucky baby


I was born first to Paul and Sherri, two teenagers living in Sonoma. They accidentally conceived me in a treehouse during their eighth grade year in school.

Sherri was sent to live with her aunt and uncle in San Jose to await my birth.

I was born on November 2nd. I was a forceps baby and I came out with a banged up, scratched up head (see pic below) but no worse for wear.

FullSizeRender FullSizeRender(1)Alice and “Mario”, my parents, got the word that I’d been born and I’d be joining my 5 month old sister Lisa. My dad got to the hospital and looked at his itty bitty newborn daughter and declared that I looked like a frog on account of my legs stuck out sideways.

Screen Shot 2015-10-26 at 4.19.46 PMI will forever be grateful to Sherri and Paul for putting me up for adoption. I was lucky enough to meet them when I was 22 and they have been a part of my life ever since.

IMG_7821Nothing pleases me more than explaining to people how lucky I am to have two sets of parents who love and adore me.

I am one lucky baby.

Happy Birthday to me!


Here is my birthmom in a restaurant in Healdsberg, sharing some quiet conversation with me and my (now ex) boyfriend Jay.

sherriIsn’t she beautiful?

In case you don’t already know, I was adopted at birth.

My birthparents were very young – 14 and 15 when I was born. They got pregnant with me in 8th grade.

They were precocious little things and for that I am eternally grateful.

My whole life I wondered who I looked like. Who I took after.

Well, fast forward 22 years and I’ve got the phone number to my birthmom’s in-laws. I call them and ask for Sherri or Vince, my birthmom and stepfather.

They give me their phone number.

Just like that.

I used to call that number and ask for Elizabeth. I didn’t have the guts to tell the person on the other line who I was.

But then I called one time and SHE answered and she had the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard and it was that voice that made me take a chance and tell her who I was.

I think we spent the next 4 hours on the phone chatting and arranging to meet the VERY NEXT DAY.

So if you ask me who my heroes are, one of them is this woman who at a very young age was asked to do the impossible and managed to make the best of it for everyone.


Below:  Picture of Sherri at her 8th grade graduation, ~ 4 months pregnant with me.

sherri1Below:  Twenty two years later – reunion picture of me and my ex-husband with my brother, my birthmom, and my sister.


By the way, here is my most favorite photo of Sherri.  Probably because at a glance, it looks like me…