A Portrait of Families Today

As politicians and television programs spar in the mega-battle of over what constitutes “traditional family values,” many North County families go about their not-so-traditional lives.

People like the Escondido couple preparing to legally adopt their grandson; the single mother in Del Mar whose daughter divides her time between parents; the foster parents who opened their home to more than 30 foster children; the divorced dad who raised his son and daughter.

Or the communal home in Cardiff, the lesbian mother, the daughter by adoption, the divorced couple who each give a child a home.

It may not be Dad, Mom, Bubba and Sis, but these families are what many families of the 1990s look like. In fact, the non-traditional family has become the norm rather than the exception, say those who work daily with a variety of families in schools and other settings.

Consider the statistics. In the last six years, divorce filings in San Diego County have increased 23.5%. The U.S. 1990 Census for San Diego County lists more than 15,000 single-father households and more than 56,000 single-mother households, with children living at home.

When it first began five years ago, there were only a handful of calls to a countywide educational organization that assists members of extended families. Last year, Grandparents Offering Love and Direction, also know as GOLD, logged 3,000 calls. So far this year, more than 4,500 calls have been received.

Studies show that Americans still revere the ideal of family life, but with shifting social climates--such as the necessity of two incomes for economic stability and the escalating divorce rate--it is not always possible. Although many families today still start out in a traditional structure, for many, somewhere along the way circumstances change.

Here is what some of North County’s not-so-traditional families look like:

Second-Time-Around Parents

Sean Bell, 5, plays with his stuffed toy--Donatello of the Ninga Turtles--and watches one of his favorite videos in the living room of his grandparents’ home in Escondido.

His grandmother, Jody Dembrowsky, asks what he would like for lunch. Spaghetti is his answer. Sean has made his home with his grandparents for three years now, and they hope their efforts to adopt him will be complete by the end of this year.

The couple say they might never have gotten custody of their grandson if it weren’t for a complaint to authorities by Sean’s baby-sitter, who reported seeing burn marks on his body. When the little boy arrived at their Escondido home Dec. 19, 1989, his vocabulary was limited to two words, “hot” and “ame,” meaning “for me.” The diagnosis was “failure-to-thrive syndrome.”

A few months earlier, Sean’s father, Dembrowsky’s only son, had been stabbed to death in Los Angeles. Sean and his brother, Joseph, were in the care of their mother, who was not married to the children’s father.

When Jody received a call from Child Protective Services asking if she would provide a temporary home for her grandson Sean, she agreed immediately and asked about having Joseph also. They were told by the social worker that Joseph had drowned in the bathtub, under suspicious circumstances, three days earlier.

What followed was a prolonged court battle for custody of Sean and an all-out effort by the Dembrowskys to give him a happy, loving home.

“The first three or four months was a period of adjusting,” said Jody, who has a bachelor’s degree in early childhood development. “He had a lot of temper tantrums, but I think that is typical with children when they are adjusting to a new situation.”

Because Jody and her husband, John, were not his legal parents, their medical insurance didn’t cover Sean. Jody managed to get some of her grandson’s medical records and was able to receive Medi-Cal and other state benefits for him.

Every six months, a court hearing was held to determine whether Sean should continue to live with the Dembrowskys. Jody said she was once barred from court because she was not Sean’s parent, yet his mother’s boyfriend was allowed inside. She also was required to take Sean to Los Angeles for supervised visits with his mother.

In August, 1991, the legal rights of Sean’s mother were terminated. The couple learned this past summer that she had died, and they have been able to move forward with the process of legally adopting him.

“Although we weren’t looking to be parents, what we are trying to do is provide him with a stable environment and a home,” said John, a self-employed real estate and mortgage broker.

Sean has other relatives who live in the area and is able to spend some of his time with them, too. “It makes it nice for Sean,” Jody said. “Family is really important, and this puts him in touch with his family.”

The couple has enrolled Sean in a day-care center so he can learn to socialize with other children. He will enter kindergarten next fall.

Meanwhile, John, 43, and Jody, 48, are adjusting to the demands of a small child, including day-care decisions, visits to Toys-R-Us and the lack of baby-sitting services in their rural neighborhood. To help pay the mounting bills, Jody has taken a job at the before- and after-school program in Valley Center.

“I was deciding what to do with my life when (the decision) was taken out of my hands,” Jody said. “Being a mother again was not in my master plan. But he is just such an affectionate and warm child, real open to learning.”

Fostering Care

In the 10 years that Dianne and Ronald Nigro were foster parents, more than 30 teen-aged girls came to live with them.

Up to four girls at a time would live with the couple and their two sons, Shane and Victor.

“I always wanted a sister,” Shane, 25, says now. “It turned out, I got lots of them.”

The Nigros made the decision to become a foster family following the death of a third son, their eldest, who was killed at age 13 in a shooting accident.

On a recent evening, they visited with two of the young women, Lisa Carrillo, 21, and Sheila Wyatt, 22, to whom they opened their home. Lisa is taking college classes and working at a bank. Sheila, who earned a general education diploma, is now working and engaged to be married. Both girls were bridesmaids in Shane Nigro’s wedding.

“All of the girls had different needs, but they all needed love,” Dianne said. “I see the struggle these two went through and how good they turned out. They are not on the street; they’re self-supporting; they’re building a future for themselves.”

Sheila, who was abused by her father, lived with the Nigros for about five years, along with her sister, Angie. “Coming to live here was the first family feeling I ever had,” Sheila said. “They made me feel I was one of theirs.”

Lisa came to the Nigros’ home because her single mother had five children and couldn’t care for all of them. While Sheila was not allowed any contact with her parents, Lisa could visit hers at any time.

“I still think of my brothers and sisters as family,” Lisa said. “I also think of (the Nigros) as my family. I have both.”

The couple had a concrete rule that any one girl had to get along with the rest of the family. If she couldn’t, they asked that she be placed in a different home. Most of the girls were teen-agers when they first came to live with the Nigro family.

They had some girls who could not be reached, including a rage-filled 10-year-old who had been molested by her father since she was 3.

Some of the girls continued to live with the Nigros past their 18th birthdays, until they could get jobs and support themselves, the couple said.

State aid for foster children is usually terminated when the child turns 18, although the funds can be extended for some six months until the child graduates from high school, a policy that the Nigros think is too limited.

“Telling them they have until graduation day made some of the kids afraid to graduate,” Dianne said. “One day they are eligible for Medi-Cal, to see a counselor. The next day, they are cut off.”

The couple is no longer able financially to serve as foster parents. When Ronald took a $10,000 cut in pay at his job and Dianne went back to work in real estate, they decided to pool resources with their son and his family and now all share a home in Rancho Bernardo.

Although the Nigros acknowledge there were difficult times during their foster-care days, they encourage other families to think about becoming foster parents.

“If there are families out there who have the time and the resources, being a foster parent, you learn what love is all about,” Dianne said. “It is worth it. You get back what you give so many times. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

Single Fatherhood

George Milne may not consider himself a pioneer, but he concedes there were very few single dads in 1977 when he gained custody of his two children, Melissa and James.

“I have heard that it is changing, and more and more dads are getting their kids after divorce,” said Milne, 53, who is a junior high school teacher and soccer coach. “I see more and more kids whose parents share them equally. At the time, I was just flying by the seat of my pants and somehow muddled through.”

When Milne and his wife of 14 years divorced, he fought to gain custody of his children. “We settled out-of-court on joint custody, although I had physical custody of the kids because I was in a position to be home with them since I was a teacher.

When the couple split, Milne moved into an apartment with just the bare necessities: four knives, four spoons, four forks, a table and chair, a sofa and black-and-white TV.

He relied on a circle of friends to help him through the rough times. He was a substitute teacher, which meant no health insurance or vacation pay, for the first few years of his single parenthood. He also worked at a second job as a graphic artist to help make ends meet.

“I first moved to Escondido so I could be on eight different sub lists and I worked every day,” said Milne, who now lives in Encinitas. “I just held my breath for several years, hoping nothing (catastrophic) would happen. I felt like I was going through a storm. All you have to do is keep your heading, you get buffeted, but at the end, you pop out and say, ‘Yeah, I made it.’

“Being a single parent is a double-edged sword,” he said. “On the one hand, you get to make all the decisions. On the other, you have to. It is an awesome responsibility.”

James, now 25, still lives with his dad and works at a restaurant. Milne described his son as “a physical guy, intellectual, athletic and carefree.” His daughter, Melissa, 27, is married and has a 1-year-old child. She graduated from college with a master’s degree in social work. She asked Milne to be the godfather of her son.

Although he enjoys a close relationship with his children, Milne does have some regrets. “As far as child care was concerned, I should have had it, but didn’t,” he said. “My kids were latchkey. James got to do what he wanted. Melissa tried to be his mom. She felt the burden was on her, although they were just 18 months apart. I was grateful to other parents, the parents of my kids’ friends, for their help at times.

“Looking back, I think I did OK,” Milne said. “You can’t hope to do wonderfully. We are all looking to be like one of the ‘60s sitcoms--if not, we are dysfunctional. That is just not true.”

Sharing Custody

Eight-year-old Krista Romley spends one week with her mother in Del Mar and the next with her father in La Mesa. She has clothes and toys at both houses, so the only thing she takes back and forth is her school work. She attends the same elementary school all year.

When Terrie Lafferty, 32, and her husband divorced six years ago, the couple were given joint custody of Krista and decided to divide their time with her equally.

“Growing up in two households, I think she is pretty independent,” Lafferty said. “She does a lot on her own. She is very mature. She has only said to me twice, ‘When I’m at Dad’s house, we do it this way.’ She knows the rules at Dad’s are different than Mom’s. We both have our own way of doing things, but we respect each other’s wishes. We don’t try and impose what we feel is right in each other’s households.”

Sometimes, communication is a problem, Lafferty said.

“Sometimes, there is a breakdown. The school will send home a flyer and only one of the parents will get it. I want her to feel that everything is important, but she is only 8 and she forgets about things.”

A recent example was the flyer Krista took to her dad’s about a parent-teacher conference night during the week she was with her mom. “I didn’t find out about it until that night, and I had no one to watch her. It was only for parents, so she couldn’t go. I told her I would write a note to her teacher and schedule another conference so I can get all the information like the other parents.”

Lafferty works two jobs, one as a managing editor for a magazine company and the other as editor-publisher of a sports publication.

“When I worked for newspapers, I worked a lot more hours, but I was more autonomous so I was able to volunteer at her school once a week,” Lafferty said. “That made Krista feel I was really in touch with her life. I am always searching for ways to be in her life even though I don’t always have her.”

She and her ex-husband give Krista a joint party every year, so neither will miss out on sharing her birthday with her. Krista’s parents also alternate holidays each year.

“Christmas is probably the most difficult,” Lafferty said. “I have a very large family. If the whole family gets together, for me not having Krista is a big void. I feel like a part of me is missing.”

Lafferty tries to schedule overtime hours at work, social engagements and other events for the weeks when her daughter is at her dad’s house. She uses her lunch hours to train for marathon races.

For Krista, the arrangement seems to be working fine. “I get to see my mom and dad,” she said. “It is lots of fun with both of them. I wouldn’t want to miss either of them.”

“The most important thing for me is that she be very giving,” Lafferty said of her daughter. “I want her to care about other people, especially family and friends; to strive to be the best, but to accept the fact that you can make mistakes.”

Divorced With Children

Michele Chamoni, 37, lives in La Costa with her daughter, Brittany, 7.

Her son, Jesse, 16, lived with them until a year and a half ago, when he chose to move in with his father in Carlsbad. “His social circle changed from his family to his peers,” Chamoni said. “He is a surfer, and now he is living across from the ocean.”

They still enjoy a good relationship, Chamoni said.

Like other working parents, Chamoni worries about child care and how to balance work with raising her children. Part of her child-care worries were alleviated when it worked out for her mother to live with them part of the time. Her mother’s job brings her to La Costa six months out of the year.

“My mother has helped me quite a lot,” Chamoni said. “For the six months she is here, she can pick Brittany up from school. I have conversations with my mom about Brittany that a husband and wife would have--like we need to work together to keep Brittany excited about school.”

Chamoni’s mother said that living with her daughter and granddaughter half the year has given her a second chance to raise children. It has been, she said, “a wonderful experience in my life.” For the six months her mother is not with her, Chamoni makes other arrangements and often relies on colleagues and friends for help.

“When I was first divorced, I thought I could do it all, but no one should approach life like that. We all need a support group.”

Chamoni, who works as a beautician and a free-lance makeup artist, said she especially relies on two or three of her good friends, whom she has known since high school.

“I want to be the best parent that I can,” Chamoni said. “I have learned that it is not what you say, but how you behave that sets children’s morals. You need to do what makes you happy and your children will be happy.

“If you stay in a relationship that makes you unhappy, you are just showing your children that you are limiting your choices. I want Brittany to know that the sky is the limit.”

Adopted Daughter

When Pam and Mike Dalton decided to adopt a child, they already had two sons, Henry and Steve, but they also wanted a daughter.

“We had some concern over the population growth,” Pam said of their decision made in the early ‘70s. “We had a strong family and loved our two sons, but we also wanted a girl.”

The Solana Beach couple were matched with their daughter when she was 3 months old. The Daltons, who are Caucasian, adopted Katie, who is African-American.

“We saw her and were told that we could take some time to think it over,” Mike recalled.

“We went down the street to get a cup of coffee. We looked at each other and said, ‘Why are we going through the motions? We know we want her.’ ”

The Daltons have a large extended family, with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins living in the area. Their family photo album is loaded with pictures of holidays and special occasions. There are pictures of vacations to Yosemite, Arizona and New York.

“We tried to instill a lot of values, but we didn’t try to mold the kids,” Mike said. “We encouraged them to be educated, open-minded and accepting; to like people and to be friendly.”

Not everyone they encountered had the same attitude, however.

“I did get people looking at me funny,” said Katie, now 21. “There was a time when I got a lot of that. But I am kind of intuitive and I knew it was just their curiosity, so I ignored it. It is really annoying and I think people should know better.”

“People were always trying to figure our situation out,” Pam said. “I would have people ask me in a round-about way, but, as Katie said, it was more curiosity than anything.

“Basically, we all enjoyed each other and like to be together,” Pam said. “We were a typical family. Henry was the oldest so he didn’t feel any competition, and he and Katie formed a special bond. Steve, who was 4, got kicked out of the baby position and had a few problems with that.”

Although Katie lives with her parents, she is planning to move out in March to her own apartment and to enroll in a job-training program.

“Having our children leave home is natural, and it is nice to have our life less complicated,” said Pam, who went back to work as an elementary special-education teacher when Katie was 10.

Katie said she sometimes thinks about contacting her birth parents, but it is not a burning desire.

“I wouldn’t feel threatened (if she contacted them), because it has nothing to do with our relationship,” Pam said. “But I do feel protective of Katie. It is not always a happy experience.”

The Daltons feel that medical information should be released in an adoption. “Katie had some medical problems,” Pam said. “We tried to get some history, but it wasn’t available.”

On the whole, the Daltons say the confidential nature of the adoption worked out well, though, and having Katie as part of the family was very natural. “It seemed no different than having the boys,” Pam said.

Communal Living

Walking through the door of the house in Cardiff is like taking a step back in time to the ‘60s. Incense burns in one corner and housemates talk in terms of the “collective.”

The household includes a husband and wife, both 23; a single mom, 23, with one child; a single father, 30, who has his son mainly on weekends; and another single woman, 24. The group is an ethnic mix of Latin, African-American and Caucasian.

Besides dividing household duties, the adults split the rent and utilities equally. Once a week, they hold house meetings to air differences and determine new projects.

“We wanted to live collectively,” said one of the housemates. “We need to have open, honest communication and a supportive family environment. We all came from different levels of a dysfunctional family (when we were growing up). That is where the idea came from of having a house meeting. We all have scattered lives, so we bring each other up-to-date at the house meetings.”

When they decided to move in together, the housemates agreed to try the living arrangement for one year. After that time, they may move in other directions, but for now, the feeling among the members of the group is of an extended family. Child care is shared, meals are shared, shopping and other household duties are shared.

“When we first decided to get a big house, we wanted good people. No drug abuse. No sexual things. Here it is a real family,” said one member.

Group members feel that their collective house is a viable arrangement and that it has raised the standard of living of all of them.

“We want to encourage people to try alternative ways of living,” the single father said. “The system is not working for everybody. We tried to find a way to make the system work for us.”

The husband and wife are saving money to eventually return to Latin America; the single mom finds the cheaper rent allows her to go to school and yet have help with the care of her child; the single father is happy about the young playmate and the stable environment his son has on weekends.

“People in this house help me with child care,” the single mom said. “They are watching him tonight so I can do my homework. It is nice having the support of people around.”

Although all of the house members help with child care, they defer to the parents in matters of discipline. “Having children around has taught me a lot of patience,” said one non-parent. “Since everyone has different ideals about parenting, I think more before acting. I don’t give Christopher a time-out unless his mom says to give him a time-out.”

Lesbian Mother

Cynthia, who asked that her last name not be used, considers herself an average mom. She is also lesbian.

When Cynthia was 30, she became pregnant by a man she met on a blind date.

“The father wanted me to get an abortion, but 25 years ago, that was not legal. I decided to raise her myself.”

When her daughter, Andrea, was born, Cynthia said her “maternal instinct just took over and I became this total mother.”

Cynthia worked at whatever jobs she could find to support her daughter, including selling eggs door-to-door, operating a lunch truck and selling real estate. She owned a catering business at one time, and an auto parts store at another.

“I hired a woman to take care of her, but I hated the idea of Andrea being a latchkey kid, so finally I bought a (business), so I could be at home for her,” Cynthia said.

Cynthia, who is now 56, said she didn’t deal with her sexuality until she was 35.

“I didn’t have any role models. I just knew that being with men wasn’t working. I thought I was a very strange creature on a strange planet. I was so out of sync with what was going on, but I kept trying to conform.”

For seven years, Cynthia was involved in a relationship with another woman and the two owned a house together. When Andrea turned 11, the couple split and Cynthia moved with her daughter to a house in Cardiff.

Andrea, now 25, is studying art in college. Her mom proudly displays some of her work, along with pictures of her daughter’s high school proms, the homecoming court and graduation.

“The thing I wanted most to teach Andrea was to think for herself and make her own decisions,” Cynthia said. “I taught her to be very tolerant. You don’t make decisions about a group. You make decisions one person at a time. I am mainly concerned about her being happy and healthy.”

“Parents don’t ever talk about their sexuality with their children, whether they are straight or gay,” Cynthia said. “I only taught her to be tolerant. She knows (that I am a lesbian), but it is not an issue. Andrea is not gay. My parents were heterosexual.”

Although Andrea’s grandparents were a big part of her growing-up years, Andrea’s father chose not to be a part of her life.

“I was ecstatic to be a mother. She is the greatest gift I ever had. Just because women are lesbians doesn’t mean they lose their maternal instincts. What I got from being a mother so outweighed all the other problems in my life, they became secondary.”

Cynthia knows many lesbians who are mothers, including two women who had sons through artificial insemination.

“You would never recognize them,” she said. “Women are not prone to talk about their sex lives. It is too personal, too sensitive. Being a single parent is the same, whether you are straight or lesbian.

“Our strength as Americans is our differences,” Cynthia said. “That is what makes us powerful. Our beauty is in our differences. The only thing that slows us up is our intolerance.”