Family Cookout

Nothing says summer better than a boy swimming in his underwear. God, I hate to think how many hits I'll get because of that statement. Anyways, after getting up at the butt-crack-of-dawn (6:30 am) to finish writing a narrative about "schools being key institutions in creating social change," slaving over homemade hot dog chili (which I don't eat), and making macaroni salad (which I do eat), B and I sludged over to the Parents to have a "just us" family cookout. B had a hangover and I was working on about 4 hours sleep, so sludged is the word. The only person who wasn't a part of our immediate family was my SIL's grandmother, Thelma. She's pretty cool and fits right in. C was at her mom's house playing "mommy;" her mom still can't lift the baby, so she's keeping C in her clutches tighter than Anusol suppositories.

We had gigantic cheeseburgers - my favorite, drank gallons of water, and ate all fruit popsicles. My SIL, who works for a major children's retail chain that's not Baby Gap or Children's Place, and I made plans to shop for Ms. Ruby next weekend. Several "collections" are on sale and I am starting to cave on the "No Shopping Till LID" big time. We had a great time.




















Evie loves her some cupcakes!

I'm With the Band

I finally bought new furniture for the living room. For the three or so who follow along, you may remember I tried this once back in January and it was a bust. Well, I tried a different furniture store and ended up buying a sofa, chair 1/2, ottoman, and 4 tables. Whoo hoo! Here's my mom hanging in the chair. It's not quite as yellow and green in real life.
We then went to Applebees and I had the new Grilled Greek Chicken Salad and it rocked. We shopped some and I bought Ruby this and this from LeapPad.
Later I went to the Vandalia Lounge to see Brian's band, Whistlepunk with Thea, Caroline, and my brother-in-law Allen. The Vandalia Lounge is a swanky little joint that has a kick ass drink menu. I had a java martini and it was fabulous. Oh yeah, the band was cool too. Don't tell anybody, but I took the drummer home with me!

Welcome Elizabeth W.

Blue Suede Beauties - FR: Caroline, Me, Karen. BR: Susan, Tracy, and Cindy - who finally got her girl!

Congratulations to Cindy and the boys on their referral of the newest addition to the family, Elizabeth!

Waiting and Worrying

We are now waiting on our LID. To me, in my mind,this will be the final step that will confirm that we are going to get Ruby. I worry about being turned down. A lot. I want reassurance, I want a "done deal." I want to be able to register for baby gifts and buy pretty things and not get nauseated thinking I may have to return them, "Sorry, no baby."

At my annual exam last year, my GYN recommended an endometrial ablation. Ironically my virtual twin, Shannon, just went through this a few weeks ago. My GYN and I decided to wait until B and I returned from China. I distinctly remember saying, "We'll travel next year." That was a year ago. In March. Now, we are looking at least another year after we get our LID, which could be now or a month from now. I have decided to go ahead with the surgery. I can't wait another year for this. I know I can wait on Ruby, albeit not patiently, but I don't want to put this off for another year or more. I am at the point where I am either in PMS mode, bleeding, or recuperating from the endless period. They are lasting around 10 days now, and are debilitating.
The deal with endometrial ablation is sterility. Granted, B and I are as barren as they come, but this surgery will make it an in-your-face reality. My GYN will also perform a tubal ligation just to safeguard, you know, just in case pigs fly and people in Hell drink ice-water. I will be going in on the Friday before Thanksgiving, and will be taking that entire next week off. I decided November for reasons. 1) My job should be in a groove by then and I'll have a better sense of scheduling clients, 2) I really want Thanksgiving week off to hang out with my mom to cook and shop, and 3) We will know for sure by then if we are definitely going to China because we'll hopefully be 5 months LID. Hopefully.

Bottom line? I want to quit worrying. I want to enjoy shopping for my girl. I want to do all of those things that make me want to puke. I want my LID.

Quiet House

C and her brother went home today. The weekend was rough, B pulled his back on Saturday morning and it basically went downhill from there.

B and I learned quite a bit from this experience:

1. Having a baby in the house can be a lot of fun. We laughed a lot.
2. Having a baby in the house can be very stressful. We bickered a lot.
3. Soy formula really stinks. That smell, like instant mashed potato flakes, permeates everything.
4. Babies need to have their teeth brushed. You know, from the beginning, we have been on C like white on rice about this. Religiously. Don't ask me why we kept bailing on this poor kid. If he develops massive tooth decay, we're pleading the fifth and deleting this post.
5. Sam's Choice wet wipes are crap. They smell awful, no sweet baby smell from these and they shred when wiping copious amounts of poo. We won't be purchasing this brand. Ever.
6. Speaking of copious poo, I have a history of poo related issues. This weekend did not help me overcome them.
7. B and I are very different types of parents; I stress and he sleeps. We have a lot of middle ground to find.
8. We are both incredibly out of shape. We have a year (or more) to remedy this.

It was a good week, but I am happy to have my house back. Next we need to get to work on Ruby's nursery, we're going to need the space.

Shhh...We Don't Know Yet!

I just checked our Parent Access page on our agency's website. Guess what? We were DTC Monday June 19! We haven't received the official email yet, so keep it to yourself, 'kay?

Awesome Gifts

Ruby's first Ladybug book. Thanks Secret Pal!

Ducky T-shirt and "Quack Quack" from my bloggy pals! Ruby's gotta represent the Blue Suede Beauties!

Cutting Off My Nose

C's mom had her second thyroid surgery today. As of yesterday, we are keeping C and her 13 month baby brother, M while mom recuperates. It's looking like we are going to be the home base for these two for the next two weeks, maybe more. Unfortunately, C's mom doesn't get any support from family or M's father. She has to rely on friends to help her out. B and I debated the issue of keeping him (and being his guardian should something happen) for a long time. It's kind of strange, and many wouldn't understand, but we couldn't say no.

It's not always been easy being a stepmom. From the beginning, I have been hyper-aware of my place. I am not C's mom. Oh, more times than not I call her my "daughter," I don't love her any less, and I discipline regularly just like any parent would. Nevertheless, there have been too many times to count when C's mom would remind me of my place. Over the years, I have been told "no" to requests to take her places, not allowed to spend time with her one-on-one because she "needs to be with a parent," denied access to school activities or parent-teacher conferences, had new clothes returned or destroyed, and received parenting and nutrition magazine subscriptions as gifts so I can "learn and understand" what it's like to be a conscientious parent. No I am not exaggerating. But honestly, I wasn't at all surprised when she asked if we would adopt M if she dies of cancer. Why? Because despite all of her spite, I love her daughter. I always have and I always will. No, I am not the "better" person, and I am positive our animosity toward each other is only on hiatus, I am just a person who will not hurt these children because their mother and I don't get along.

So far, my house looks like a bomb dropped, I have been spit-up on twice, endured a 2 am diaper change, I smell like soy formula and laughed till I cried more than once. It doesn't matter though, because if being with Ruby is half this much fun, we've got it made in the shade.

Lost in Translation

As of June 15, we are currently in translation and almost ready to be DTC. I had to get an additional letter from my doctor telling CCAA that because I have hypertension I can still parent a child. This is letter #3. 3! Regardless, we were pushed back et another week and now we are just hoping to be DTC before July. AAARRRRGGGGG!

Bright Light City Gonna Set My Soul...

Oh, how to describe my recent trip to Memphis to meet some of my bloggy pals? It was a fantastic time. I would love to include pictures with my narrative, but blogger is not being cooperative. I downloaded some, but they are lost in space. I'll try again later, or maybe they'll just pop up. We'll see. Anyways...

Friday we drove all day. My friend Caroline went with me to offer moral support and conversation on the long way down and back. Caroline is quiet and unassuming and calls me on my shit when I'm being a spaz. The drive wasn't bad, just long. There's just not a lot to see on the Blue Grass Parkway. Ironically when we arrived, Traci was in the car in front of us, and Karen pulled up in a taxi right behind. We met up with Cindy, who'd arrived earlier, and all went to Bahama Breeze. It was wild to see these women that I felt like I knew, but really didn't know at all. We had a great dinner and went back to the hotel. Susan had arrived while we were out, but Caroline and I were so tired we just said hello and made plans to meet in the lobby the next morning.

Saturday, Karen, Susan, Caroline and I hit Graceland with a vengeance. After a breakfast at the secret I-Hop, we ran around like tourists snapping pictures, getting temporary tattoos and giggling like we were in high school. Caroline and I hit the car museum, while Susan and Karen admired the airplanes. We dashed back to the hotel, freshened up and met up with Susan and Traci to head to downtown Memphis. We had lunch and the waiter was a hoot. He called me "love" and was gracious enough to snap pictures with 5 different cameras. We started a trends and 2 other tables whipped out digitals and hit him up for some snaps.

We had reserved a carriage ride through the city and once we piled into the seats, I bailed. Too tight a squeeze, and 20-30 feet into the ride my butt was asleep. I jumped out and tooled around the air conditioned Peabody hotel while the rest of the ladies toured Memphis. I am sure Chester the carriage pony was appreciative, and I had a great time. I shopped and talked Pencil Pointer puzzles with a Russian storekeeper who was whizzing through one in his native language (v. v. cool, btw), watched a very young wedding party in very expensive attire swig Bud out of the bottle, and watched the Peabody Ducks do their evening parade to their private penthouse. All in all, my hour alone was really fun.

After the carriage ride, we shopped a little more, and the ladies all chipped in and bought Ruby a gift, which was really sweet. If blogger wasn't being a bitch, I would proudly share a picture of her ducky t-shirt and puffy "Quack, Quack" Little Golden Book. Soon, soon. Thanks again, pals.

We walked to Beale St. and ended up BB King's Blues Club. We listened to music, Karen and Susan were Ikettes, drank a blue cocktail called "Lucille" and finally ate BBQ. Cindy split to shop without 3 boys clinging and pleading for mercy, and the rest of us hung out and rested our dogs. After a while, Susan, Caroline and I walked the length of Beale St looking at the bars and shops. I was amazed to see children running around, but the most shocking sight was seeing a pregnant woman chugging an industrial sized beer. Nice. We looked into the grimy windows of Coyote Ugly and saw the bartenders dancing stripper-style on the long bar, and a skinny Elvis impersonator that was kind enough to let Susan snap his picture. Around 11:00 we caught a cab and headed back to the hotel. I sat up front because I get carsick and chatted with our driver, Gregory. On the way out of the taxi, he handed me his card saying, "Here's my card. Give me a call if you're ever back in Memphis or you get a divorce." Wow, I haven't been hit on in forever. Thanks, Gregory, for capping off a great day.

The next morning Caroline and I dropped Susan off at the airport and headed home. I was exhausted, but would do it again in a heartbeat. I met some wonderful women who gave me a little bit of hope during this bleak time of waiting for Ruby. What a bunch of great broads. We have to do this again.

More on Memphis tomorrow

Man, photos + me + Blogspot = headache and hours of irritation.
It took over an hour just to get those pictures lined up.
I'll post about our awesome trip tomorrow. Yawn.

Takin' on the King

Self-portrait in Elvis' mirrored stairwell





Karen of Gwenblog (password protected) and my very quiet friend Caroline getting ready for a rocking day at the home of the King - Graceland!


Susan getting her "Burning Love" shimmer temporary tattoo by Sequoyia, a very sweet Graceland employee.



The final resting place of the King

I Hope No News is Good News

Well, everything has been submitted to CCAI for a week now. We are officially in critical review and translation. If all goes well, we should be DTC in the next 5 to 10 business days. That's all I'm saying because I don't want to jinx it.

The Story of We

A few days ago one of our directors was discussing her daughter's wedding. It's planned for May 2007, and they have budgeted 25K for the whole shebang. Firstly, knowing this person, I wasn't surprised. Secondly, I thought, damn, that would pay for another adoption. Thirdly, the conversation got me thinking about my own wedding 7 years ago today.

B and I had only been together 11 months. We were living together, to the chagrin of both our parents. Memorial Day weekend, I was supposed to have surgery to determine what was making my period so crazy. The day before the surgery, Friday, I came down with tonsillitis which caused the doctor to cancel. That night, as we were getting ready for bed,B asked me what I was going to do with my time. My response, "Clean the house." His rebuttal? "Well, let's get married." I said okay, rolled over, and passed out in a medication-induced coma. Romantic, huh?

Because it was a holiday weekend, we had to wait until a Tuesday. We loaded C into the van and headed to Catlettsburg Kentucky to get married. Our parents followed us down and we the whole thing was complete by 12:30, because the minister had a root canal scheduled at 1:00. C was very excited and somewhat disillusioned as to why we were there, When we arrived, she asked me, "Where is she?" When I asked about whom she was talking, she said "Married? We're here to get Married!" To this day, this is one of her favorite "when you were little" stories.
We all had lunch and came home. B and I gave C a nap, took her to her mom, and went to see Star Wars: Episode I. I'll never forget sitting in that empty theatre running my thumb absently over his wedding band, thinking to myself that this is it, he's the one.

I still feel that way. We had a good day. I got the requisite flowers and gifts, and we also had dinner at Cafe Cimino, a lovely Italian restaurant owned and operated by our neighbor's father and stepmother. The food and atmosphere were romantic and delicious, respectively, but the best part was the drive up and back. For an hour each way - the pleasure of each other's company. Seven years, and we have yet to run out of things to say.

Holiday Hell

Man, today was rough!

1. Using my new chef's knife Rachael Ray style, I almost sliced off my right pinky. Let's just say I filleted it, and it is continuing to seep as the rest of my finger turns bluish-purple. Still. 12 hours later. Yes, I know I should've had a stitch or at least some of that human super glue stuff, but no. I didn't realize how much you use your pinkies when you type.
2. I have to make a big decision. C's mom has another child, who's only a year old. She has asked us to help out with him while she's recuperating from her next surgery. She has no family willing to help, and her best friend just said no. I don't know if I can do it for many, many reasons I can't discuss here.
3. Said bio mom came to my parents picnic with said baby. It was hard, not because of the baby, he's a baby, what's not to like? C on the other hand has assumed the "mommy" role because she's doing the bulk of the lifting. It's nerve-wracking and frustrating, plus she's really annoying about it. I guess that's one reason I am discussing here.
4. B and I were talking about this as we were leaving my parents, and I backed my Sorento into my father-in-law's new Chevy Trailblazer. Big crunch, but no major damage. My truck barely has a scratch. We have decided to get an estimate and go from there.
5. I had to come home and write a paper that was due on a freaking holiday. The hell?

How Bizarre

I just noticed that in the picture of B and me and in the picture of Elliot, they are holding their heads the same way. B is way cuter!

Here's the Deal, Pickle

So, B and I made this big trek to D.C., went through the harrowing process of fighting with the State Dept, relyied on strangers, and all-in-all had a pretty good weekend. I mean, we had fun, I got a Nine West purse for 12 bucks, and we ate really good Italian and really bad Mexican food.
Well, amidst all of this fun, we didn't realize was that we took 2 copies of B's police clearance reports and none of mine. Basically, when CCAI got our dossier, it was one document short. Plus, they wanted more pictures of us with friends and family.
Pictures I could do - that's easy I have a new camera. Getting that document authenticated was another story. Prior to crying tears of frustration and embarrassment, I called our dossier rep Amanda who confirmed the news and led me in the direction of an Adoption courier. Now, I really wasn't sure if I wanted to trust a stranger with our precious cargo, but what choice did I have?
I contacted Laura of The Assistant Stork, and she took care of us. Although it cost us a little more, she had it taken care of in less than a week. As of yesterday, CCAI has the last of our dossier documents, and I hopefully can say we are in critical review. My hopes for being DTC in May are shot, but my DTC group hasn't kicked me out, so I guess that's okay. Besides, with the wait, what's another week?

Yes, We Are

Just wanted to let everyone know that C, my mom, and I are gonna be on the floor at the September 14 show.

Don't be hatin'

Word of the Day - Antagonize

Well today we found out that C's mom definitely has thyroid cancer. She had surgery on Monday and was told she was cancer free. When she went to have her post-op check-up and have her drain removed, her doctor said, "We were wrong, you do have cancer." So it's a massive radiation treatment and a second surgery. Damn, that sucks.
C's bully situation has escalated over the past few weeks, and we can't wait for school to be out, just to get a break. The problem is, C just can't get it and she antagonizes this one boy and two girls who torture her. She gives as much as she gets. Where they are mean, hateful bullies, she is spazzy and annoying - on purpose. We've tried to work with her on calming down and recognizing that she's being a spaz/annoying/childish, but it's just not clicking. I don't even want to go into how she handled herself this week at After School Care. I won't go into the details; they're too painful for me to type and for you to read.
It's hard for B & me to see her struggle, but for very different reasons. B still sees her as an innocent, precious baby. I see it from a clinical perpective - anxiety inducing plummeting self-esteem that can scar teenage girls into making bad decisions. Before I began working in the field of MR/DD, I was a Family Preservation Specialist and worked with children exclusively for 6 years. I have seen the damage children can do to each other, especially girls her age. I can't separate from this situation the way I could then. This is my child. You can't imagine how thrilled I am that she has one more year of elementary school. The thought of her going to middle school at this maturity level makes me want to puke.

So Long, Farewell...

He deserved to win.

Pictures

B & me in the kitchen a few days ago. I was having a rough day at work, so B fixed me dinner. After, we started goofing around with the camera.









Darwin, my love



I grew this!









This too!

Chubs AKA Evie, my niece AKA
the prettiest baby on the East Coast

Obsessions - Spring

If you've been following along, you'll know I have a tendency to obsess on things I like or love. Well, I have a whole new crop for spring so here they go...

1. My new camera, the Canon PowerShot A430. I have been taking pictures like a crazy woman, but have yet to figure out how to download them. Be prepared, they're coming.
2. Elliot Yamin. In the 5 years I have watched American Idol, I have never voted. This week I did - twice. Before, I really didn't care. With the exception of the Clay Aiken upset (moment of silence here), it was always crystal clear who would win. This time, it's up in the air. I have been sweating it every week in fear that Elliot would be booted. I really want this little guy to win. He's against the odds - he's got that he's-so-homely-he's-cute-but-damn-can-he-sing! thing, a stinkeye, and he's humble. Plus, his mom is his #1 fan. I am not ashamed to admit how happy I was with Wednesday's Chris Daughtry bitch slap.
3. The Office. I was in love with the BBC version, and I bow down to the comedic genius of Ricky Gervais. Nevertheless, the American version has hooked me. The last five minutes of Thursday's season finale killed. I am pretty into Jim and Pam, but nobody does painful, heart-breaking, unrequited love as well as Martin Freeman's Tim in the original. The American version parallels the BBC version pretty well. Dwight rules.
4. Jill Winters. I just finished reading her newest, Lime Ricky, and loved, loved, loved it. Her novels are funny and always have a mystery. Great chick lit. Read.Them.NOW.
5. This blog, Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Novels. Snark at it's finest. I have found kindred spirits, because I, too, am a smart bitch who loves me some trash. I also love their takes on romance novel covers, they are laugh-out-loud funny.
6. School. Spring semester has been out for 2 weeks, and I am so ready to get back in the groove. Who woulda thunk? I am taking one class this summer, Curriculum Development, and I am developing an online professional/continuing education class on classroom management for K-12 teachers with the professor I am praying will be my chair. She wants to work with me and/or have me in class before she agrees. Well, this summer I will be doing both. Wish me luck - she's the one that I want ooh, ooh, ooh, honey!
7. Games Magazine. I have been a fan for years. My favorite puzzle is the Pencil Pointer crossword. It's a big square crossword where the clues are in the puzzle instead of being numbered and each clue can have multiple words. A few years ago Games put out an all Pencil Pointers special edition. I couldn't stop until I finished the whole thing. Every time I go to Books-a-Million I search for another special edition. Keep your fingers crossed.
8. Baby Clothes. B & I discussed timeframes for purchasing while I was molesting this, this and this. I put them back and remembered my vow that I would not buy anything baby until we knew for sure we were going to get Ruby. To him, that means an actual referral. To me, that means a LID. Well, let me tell you it's hard. I glance longingly wherever I go. I try to avoid shopping alone. When I am with someone, it's easier to resist.
9. My upcoming trip to Graceland. I am meeting some epals for the first time for a fun-filled weekend in Memphis. I am excited, but a bit nervous. I am afraid they won't like me, I won't be cool, fun, stylish, etc... When it comes to the China adoption community, there are more times than not that I feel I am on the outside looking in. I am nervous that this will be one of those times.
10. Our dossier. It's out of my hands now and I am scared to death. Enough said.

What is in a Name?

I am really struggling with the whole name thing, and not for the reason most soon-to-be-parents have. From the beginning I have been stuck on the name Ruby. B acquiesced after much browbeating from me. I just love the name, and always have. Even during the dark days of infertility I would think to myself if we have a girl, Ruby; if we have a boy, Oliver. When we discovered we couldn't get pregnant, I chose not to retire the name. Regardless, our daughter would be Ruby. Now I am not so sure.
Lately, everywhere I turn there's a Ruby. It's like that episode of Scrubs where Turk and Carla want to keep their chosen names for their baby a secret.
I totally get it.
I realize that other people like Amy, of Amy and Ruby Cate fame, and this blog are going to name their daughters Ruby if they want. Besides, they are in Massachusetts and Florida respectively, and not in my daughter's class at school. Yet, I just discovered this book and this book which both feature protagonists who are Chinese girls named Ruby. Another blog recently talked about visiting a friend and her daughter, (surprise, surprise) Ruby. It's starting to get to me.
I am torn. I really want our daughter to have a name that is unique, yet not so weird or juvenile that when she has grandchildren, they won't be calling her "Grandma Brittany" or "Grandma Kylie" (sorry to those out there who chose those names, they're just not for us). I need to either get over it or think of something new, which won't be shared outside of B and me. Suggestions? Opinions?

Breathe Again

Ready to go a few rounds with Mother Nature, I hopped puddles and flowing streams of storm water to the post office down the street to overnight 2.5 pounds of hope to Colorado - our dossier documents and photos. While there, I was so overwhelmed and flustered, I forgot to put our photos in with our paperwork. Thankfully, the nice postal worker gently re-opened our packet and let me slide them in. As I was holding the flap closed so he could tape it, he said, "Hey, your hands are shaking." Laughter burst out, and I said, "I'm really excited and a little bit scared." He just smiled and taped my package shut, stamped it, and said, "Don't worry, it'll get there by noon." I didn't explain, there was no need.
Going back to work, I trudged across the city streets amidst the lightening and rain. The wind was so fierce, it blew my umbrella inside out. I got soaked, but I didn't care. I am getting my girl.

We're Gonna Make It After All

We received our package from the Chinese Consulate today. All sixteen documents were authenticated and ready to go. Our goal is to get the dossier to Colorado on Tuesday. We are still pawing through pictures to send, and I have to covertly make copious copies at B's office Monday evening. Hopefully we will be DTC by the end of this month. Hats off! Whoo-hoo!

The Kindness of Strangers

This past weekend B & I hauled our butts to Washington D.C. to knock out three legs of paperchasing, as well as have a little time to ourselves. Because we both work, I go to school, he has a music studio, and we are going to have C full-time for a few weeks, we really wanted some time with just us. And honestly? If this dossier doesn't get to China by the end of this month I truly believe I am going to stroke out and die.
The trip up was pretty non-eventful, so I won't bore anyone with the details. We got to the hotel, which was nice, but nowhere near the Metro station. Yes, I will be calling hotels.com to bitch about that Big Fat Lie.
The next morning we drove to the Metro station, which sucked because we had to buy one-way tickets because of morning commuters. Anyways, we got off the Metro and realized that we have piss-poor directions to the Authentications office. I went up to a very robust Homeland Security guard at a hot-dog stand and asked him for directions. Being a helpful asshole, he basically told me "No, I am not helping you," and turned his back. I guess the call of a greasy hot-dog smothered in onions at 9:30 in the morning was more important than assisting a fellow citizen.
A woman with a huge wig was standing beside him, and when she saw this guy being an asshole, she volunteered to walk us there. We were grateful, and patiently waited while she bought herself a hot-dog and BB-Q corn chips, and then walked several blocks to the Authentications office. We thanked her and she went on her way.
As we walked in, we saw two little girls playing outside in the courtyard where the Authentications office is housed. One was Caucasian and the other was Chinese. We admired their cuteness, walked in, took a number, and waited until we were called. When we handed the worker our packet, she told us that we could only authenticate 15 out of 16 pages. When I asked if I could do 15 and B could do one, she told us "No, you two are together." Okay, by this point I was getting pissed. Hearing me argue with her, a man sitting in the waiting room said, "You know what, I'm not with them. Give it to me, I'll walk it through!" He was pissed on our behalf! I said, "You know, that's a great idea," and started to hand him one of our documents. At this point, the woman said, "I'll talk to my supervisor." Shortly she came back and wiggled her fingers at me. I handed over the document and sweetly said, "Thank you so much."
As we were waiting, B struck up a conversation with two women in the waiting room. One was an adoption courier (she was also the mother of the two little girls) and the other was a professional courier. B told them we were adopting and why we were visiting D.C. After the adoption courier split, B asked the other woman for directions to the Chinese Consulate. The woman began rattling off how to get there. B then asked, "How long do you think it will take us to walk there from here?" Looking shocked, the woman said, "You cant walk to China! It's too far! I'm going there next, I'll give you a ride."
By this point we were feeling pretty discouraged. Things just weren't as hearts-and-flowers as we expected. We looked at each other, and said, "Okay." This lady didn't look like a serial killer or a freak, she looked like a mom. Besides, we knew if she tried anything, we could take her - she maybe weighed 130 pounds. We got our paperwork back, checked it, and walked with this woman, who introduced herself as "Debbie," to her van. It was obvious then she really was a mom, because that van said "kids" all over it. We strapped in and the ride began with a massive U-turn right in the middle of downtown D.C. traffic. Let's just say I held onto the "Oh Shit!" bar the entire ride.
Debbie walked us in and began walking us through the process. We could not believe how helpful this woman was being - she didn't have to help us at all. She kept saying, "You guys look so nice, there's no way I would leave you."
We had decided to leave our documents with the Chinese Consulate, because to wait for them would have cost us over 500 dollars more. As we waited, the adoption courier walked in with her daughters, and said, "Hey, you beat us here." Debbie asked her how they got to the Consulate and she told us they rode the bus. Debbie asked her where they were going after their drop-off, and she said, "We'll ride the bus back to the Metro." Debbie then said, "I'm taking them back to the Metro station, my van seats 7, so ride with us."
Amazingly, we all finished within 3 minutes of each other. We walked back to van, all piled in, and Debbie made another massive U-turn and two-wheeled it back to the Metro station. As we all got our stuff and poured out, B said, "You can't imagine how much you've helped us. Is there anything we can do? Buy you some gas? Buy you lunch?" Debbie just smiled and said, "Nope. I have a good story to tell my family. They'll probably kill me for giving a ride to strangers, but you guys looked so nice, it was fine. Good luck!" She waved, made another U-turn and sped off.
We said good-bye to the adoption courier and her children and rode down into the belly of the Metro station, shaking our heads in amazement at how wonderful people can be.

The Big "C" - Bully For You

We recently learned that C's biological mom is having some health issues. Earlier this month she had a minor car accident, and while getting X-rays, the physician discovered a goiter/mass on her thyroid. After seeing an endocronologist, getting more tests, and discovering some hinky spots on her lymphnodes, they are pretty sure she has some type of cancer. Wow, pretty scary. It is intensified by the fact that, along with C, she has an 11-month-old and is currently going through a rough divorce. She hasn't always been the nicest person, but no one really deserves to go through this alone.
B & I are trying to be as understanding and helpful as possible. She has surgery on May 15 and we'll be keeping C for at least a week - maybe two. C's brother will be staying with a friend who has a flexible schedule and can stay at the mom's house.
C is taking it pretty well, but she's really having issues at school with her nemesis M. M is an incredible bully who regularly tells C she's stupid, weird, and fat. C handles it okay, but her passivity is allowing M to beat her down daily. We have all attempted to talk with C about not taking her shit, but the benign, benevolent forgiver in C won't stand up. She even tells us how great M is and how nice she can be sometimes. C even goes as far as calling this brat "my friend." When C says these nice things, most of the time I gently remind her that this girl is a bully, and friends don't make you feel like shit on their shoe. Sometimes I just want to shake C and shout, "Get a goddamn backbone! Smack her - it's okay, we'll bail you out!"
Anyways, C came home the other day and said that M has been telling her, "Your mom has cancer and could die. My mom's gonna live - she doesn't have cancer like your mom." Whoa.
I really want to call the teacher on this one, but it's not my place. I have learned over the last 8 years that stepparents have a place to take action, and this is not my place. All I can do is coach from the locker room, dry tears, and continue to try to wipe this fog of "Please like me" from the eyes of my child.

Cookin' With Grease

As you know, I am within walking distance of the main branch of our local library. Being that B and I are driving to D.C. tomorrow, I decided to trek down to find an audiobook. My pal Tami loves the library as much as me, so she came along for the fun.
Our library has an entire media floor so she and I went in opposite directions, and met at the checkout counter. I was armed with James Patterson's The Jester (B will not listen to romance novels on audio, get real). Tami comes waltzing up with Sista Monica Parker's Can't Keep a Good Woman Down. Now Tami isn't one to pick up a gospel CD - she's probably one of the least religious people I know. Nevertheless, she checked it out. When I asked her "Why?", she pointed out two songs on the list: Cookin' With Grease and Put it in the Crock Pot. Okay, that sealed the deal for me too - I had to hear it.
We got back to the office, shut the door and put Sista Monica in, thinking we would have a good laugh. Well, color me surprised! It was pretty good. I can't say I'll ever listen to it again, but the lady's got some pipes.
I decided right then and there if Oprah does her old and fat people version of American Idol, I'm singing Put it in the Crock Pot for sure.

Johnny and Marilyn

B and I received our passports today, which is fabulous! Two weeks earlier than expected, so we're off to D.C. next weekend.
Our pictures are pretty funny. B looks like a criminal/drug runner/cartoon character. B has hair that stands straight up al-la Johnny Bravo. At the time our passport photos were taken, he was in desperate need of a trim.
I look okay, which is saying a lot. I have many pictures where my right eye is going crazy lazy. So no stinkeye, whew! However, I do have a spot on my cheek that does not belong. I told B he'd better watch out, the Visa folks may mistake me for Marilyn Monroe!

Family Weekend

This past weekend C, B, & I hauled our booties over to Cincinnati for a weekend of family fun. It's been a long time since we went on a vacation, and being that we are spending beaucoup bucks on this adoption, a week-long beach trip is not an option (sigh).
After arriving just in time for Friday-Five-O'clock-Oh-Shit-It's-a-Game Night-Traffic, we finally made it to the hotel. Saturday we got up bright and early and headed across the street to the Netherland Plaza to look around and shop. When I told C that Paris Hilton's family owned this hotel, she asked me if Paris bought it with all the money she makes from acting. B laughed so hard he almost fell over in the street.
Later that afternoon we went to see Peter Pan, part of the Cincinnati on Broadway series. It was phenomenal! Yes, that's Cathy Rigby of Olympic and Stayfree Maxi Pad fame. She's 53 years old and is as flexible as Gumby. B was amazed that someone the same age as his mother-in-law could perform a split without pulling something.
Afterward we headed over to Jeff Ruby's Tropicana restaurant in Newport, KY and paid way more for dinner than we intended. Whoops...
Sunday morning we headed over to the Newport Aquarium to see Sweet Pea the Sharkray. We visited this aquarium 6 years ago when C was 4. She doesn't remember the trip, but B & I had such a good time we decided to go back. The aquarium has expanded to include an otter den and a rainforest area that houses birds that are pretty domesticated. If you pay a buck for a cup of nectar, the birds will literally eat out of your hand. For some reason C decided she was afraid of the birds and her dad and I ended up having all the fun.


Me hanging with the birds.






C pretending to hang with the birds - notice her arm and her dad's hand.
Nice fake.






B feeding one of the more aggressive birds. The bird eventually took the nectar cup and began throwing it back like a shot of scotch.





Good weekend. Good times.

WTF?

So today I was sitting in a very dry, very boring training with my pal Lori. We were listening to this guy drone on about how there are people in society who are devalued and, as people who are paid to work with devalued people, we need to help them find value in their societal roles. As we were lounging in our ergonomically uncomfortable chairs taking page after page of notes, the woman in front of us begins talking about her son who has disabilities. No big deal, right? Well, then she goes into how she has been at odds with her son's service agency because she does not want him to have staff who are of a different ethnicity than him. My pen skittered across the paper, and I looked at Lori who was mirroring the same WTF? look as me. Our eyes telepathically saying, "Is this bitch for real?" The woman then said, "I want him to have staff who are his ethnicity so that when he's out, like at the doctor, people will think that he's with family."
Oh hell no. She did not say this in front of 25 professionals and expect to get away with it. Neither Lori nor I could say anything to her - we were there representing our agency, which is very politically tied to our field. Inside I was screaming, "So, I guess I need to start interviewing
Chinese women my age to take my daughter to the doctor, that way they'll assume she's with 'family,' bitch?" Of course I couldn't say a word. But if she could read minds, man, she would have heard that and more.
You know what pisses me off the most, though? No one in that frigging room said a damn thing - no one. That makes me maddest of all.

Because We're A Little Bit Dumb

B and I just went to get our passports today. Yes, I know we're stupid. Honestly, though, I didn't think we would need them until we traveled. Hello! We need them to get the Chinese Consulate to authenticate our documents pre-dossier. DANG! IDIOTS!
I'll be 40 before we get Ruby.

Stinkeye

So for the past month I've noticed this bump on my outer corner of my left upper eyelid on the lash line that (unfortunately) resembles a whitehead. It's not sore or achy, just itchy when I wear my L'Oreal Paris Volume Shocking Mascara. Well, last night I fell asleep with my cosmetically enhanced lashes on, and this morning I ended up with the stinkeye. You know, the crusty, itchy, greenish, gunky eye that requires the application of a warm washcloth to open? It was even prettier because I looked like Petey from the Little Rascals.
I de-glue the lid and see that my bump is bigger and the corner of my eye is a little irritated. I do the no makeup route for work, which is good for everybody, and call my optometrist's office. They fit me in after lunch. Logically, I know the optometrist's office isn't a real hotbed of crisis and drama, all filled up with emergency eye issues. However, it is nice that they always work me in on the day I call. In my heart, I like to think it's because I have been going to this same family practice for 30 years. That's a lotta clams on exams, glasses, contacts, and bump removal.
Dr O takes one look at my stinkeye and breaks out the heavy artillery. Within 30 seconds of sitting down, I have my head at a funky angle and he has on the headwrap/headlight and the magnifier. He numbs my eyeball with stinging yellow goop, and uses gigantic tweezers to pluck out several eyelashes. OUCH. For a minute there, I started feeling a little like Dustin Hoffman in the movie Marathon Man, even though Dr. O is not a Nazi dentist, and I am not a short, Jewish method actor.
Anyway, Dr. O informs me that I have a "blocked gland" and I need to put wet heat on my lid as often as possible in order for the white gunk to "express or disperse." If my stinkeye doesn't go down in a week, he's gonna "clip it off."
Uh, hell no.
After this trauma which has taken all of 10 minutes from start to finish, I decide to call my mom on the way back to work. As I am telling her all about it, she interrupts me and says, "Oh, you used to get those all of the time when you were a kid."
Great.

One Step Closer

We got our I-171H! The federal government approved us to be adoptive parents - B's rep as a punk rock rebel just flew out the window. Ha!
B & I went out to dinner at the Rio Grande to celebrate. Those who are familiar with us know how pathetic we are in our love for some Rio. This time, however, the excuse to go was pretty damn valid.

Guilty Pleasures

The other day while my friend Tami and I were in the car for an extended period of time traveling for work purposes, we were listening to the XM Radio, cruising for the stations and hit upon Berlin's The Metro. We turned it up and sang along with every word. This got me thinking about guilty pleasures. You know, those things you just don't like to admit you love? Well, I'll tell you my top ten and just let it all hang out. What's a little honesty between friends, right?
Shhhhh... Don't tell anyone but I love...

1. All Michael Jackson songs up to the album (CD) Dangerous. Even though he's a freak and possibly molests small children, the man can sing. If he didn't have such rabid fans and could go beyond his freak stigma to tour again, I would be there. In.a.heartbeat.
2. Blue books. The steamier and raunchier the better. I will own up to reading romance novels, but wont discuss the ones that make the faint of heart have palpitations with anyone but my friend Caroline (who reads them too).
3. Laying in bed right before I go to sleep, I will picture myself walking down the red carpet waving to fans and talking to Joan and Melissa or Star Jones. It relaxes me, and it's way better than counting sheep.
4. Rubbing my butt before I go to sleep. Most of the time I make B do it, but if he doesn't, I will do it myself. Shut up and get your mind out of the gutter. Think massage. The legal kind, people!
5. Cutting my toenails in hotels. Yep, I am the nasty one.
6. The band Styx. They are cheesy, but I have a deep abiding love for Dennis DeYoung and Tommy Shaw. The Grand Illusion is one of the best albums ever, and no one can change my mind. BTW, I forced Tami to endure Mr. Roboto the day before we heard Berlin. She was appropriately traumatized.
7. Drinking my morning coffee before I brush my teeth. It tastes better that way.
8. The TV shows thirtysomething and Saved by the Bell. I will stop whatever I am doing, and like a deer in headlights, will watch either of these anytime they are on.
9. Catching C in a lie. I know it's bad of me to find pleasure in making her squirm, but in so many ways it's rewarding. She truly believes I can see and hear everything she does.
10. Popping B's zits. It's disgusting and gross, but there's a sick fascination that drives me to just grab and go. He hates it, but he endures. Man, I am really sick.

So, now that you think I am gross, have terrible taste in music, and probably a sexual freak, let me ask you this - What's your guilty pleasure?

Don't leave me out here all alone. Freak that I am.

Superstitious

Yesterday, I found myself wandering around T. J. Maxx killing time before my Curriculum Learning Theories class. It seemed like everything in the store was on sale. I was bombarded with 70% off signs on all sides as I cruised through the purses and was pretty shocked to see this bag for only $99! Not very tempted, I moved on, breezing through the shoes, socks, and panties adding black socks and pantyhose to my cart. I wheeled through home goods and debated sheets. I almost wrecked my cart in the gourmet foods section when I slid in some spilled jam. Then I caved to the sirens call of the children's section.
Like the Borg say, "Resistance is futile."
Ever the sinner I fondled, lusted, and coveted. I rubbed small marled cotton Calvin Klein sweaters marked down to $7 between my fingers. I imagined Ruby wearing navy blue $12 Ralph Lauren jumpers. I wallowed in seersucker sundresses with matching pantalettes. A sensual feast, I roamed and dreamed. As I rounded a 4-way filled with Easter frocks, my eyes were drawn to the Heavenly light bathing this...I rolled on the tide of tiny baby clothing and crashed right into that island. I inspected it from stem to stern looking in vain for a price tag. I finally located it hidden seductively in the folds of the seat and almost passed out.
$139.00
One Hundred Thirty Nine Dollars.
Oh.My.God.
A $300.00 stroller that's over 50% off!
Lust overwhelmed me as I slowly backed the cart away from the stroller. My hands trembled as I reached into my purse to grab the cell and call B. Knowing he would tell me what I wanted to hear, all I needed was the go ahead and it would be mine.
But I didn't. I resisted.
I put the phone back and immediately went to the checkout; the siren song of "Discount, you know you want this, you need this" echoing in my brain as I paid for my socks and pantyhose.
I don't buy anything baby because I am terrified. I am terrified we will be rejected. All of these rational and not so rational reasons float through my head all the time. Maybe China will say no because of my weight. Maybe because B has Lupus. Maybe they'll think we're ugly. Maybe because we don't have a religion. The list goes on and on.
I made a deal with myself way back during my infertility treatment that I would not buy any baby items until I knew for certain I was having/getting a baby. At this point, we still don't know.
Call me superstitious if you like, that's okay. I have to be safe and separated until I know for sure we are going to get Ruby (I didn't even want to talk names until B forced my hand and told me that the social worker would think I was too guarded and unsure if I didn't at least try). If I bring that into my house and my fears become reality I don't think I can handle it.

Obsession, You're My Obsession

I am currently obsessing over several things and I thought I would share...

• Loreal Paris' Volume Shocking Mascara is awesome. It makes you have super long, voluminous lashes that are amazing. My lashes are okay thick, but are short and noncolor. Besides the sheer splendiferousness of my lovely lashes, I really dig the commercial. Now I am not a commercial person. Besides an anytime-I-want-to-watch-it Napoleon Dynamite, I have DVR for a reason. Anyway, the reason I like this commercial is because it has The Most Beautiful Woman in India, Aishwarya Rai and her voice is a surprise. It sounds like she's giggling and like she has a secret at the same time.
• The Gaunlet 2 - Real World/Road Rules Challenge. I totally hate everyone on the show (except for Timmy, yummy). Both female captains, Beth and Kina, are hideous bitches. Beth is psychotically crazy and Kina has a funky mouth that in many ways looks like Jack Nicholson's adaptation of The Joker. She has these weird curlicue lips that make her look shady and like she has a moustache. Every Monday I wait for either one of these nut nuts to fight the Gaunlet and hopefully let some other psycho take over as captain. I'd like to see Suzy whip Kina's ass and then turn into a complete asshole. She has the scariest cry face I believe I have ever seen.
• Zac Braff. I love Scrubs and Garden State is one of my favorite movies. I had "one of those dreams" about him two nights ago and I keep thinking about it. Here's why. My alarm clock is always set at 30 minutes fast, it's a psychological trick that shouldn't work but does. I also set my alarm one hour before I really have to get up. I do this because I hate to wake up in the middle of REM sleep. I get up, pee, reset the alarm and snooze for another hour. This works for me. I think this dream stemmed from the combination of my morning pee and B leaving his March Giant magazine sitting in front of the toilet. BTW, it's a great magazine.
• My period. First let me say, NO I am not pregnant. I am late, and what this means for me is that when it comes it's going to be a total bitch. One thing I have learned in the almost 25 years of bleeding is that the longer I take in between, the heavier and longer my period will last. This bites because I am traveling a lot next week. Who wants to drive for hours bleeding like a stuck pig? Me neither.
• Heidi Klum and Seal. They are my new Brad and Jen. Whenever I see them, the love is palpable. I also am obsessed with Project Runway. My vote goes for Daniel "Flowing Locks of Glory" Vosovic. He really is the best. My favorite part of Project Runway is the opening sequence with Heidi's squeaky German voice saying "One Hunderd Tousand Dollars" and "Sixteen Designers."
• The songs This Year's Love and Moon River. Two old songs. Well, one really old and one not so old. They are both lovely.

Seriously in Need of a Calgon Moment

I have been exceptionally busy lately with work, school, C's rapidly increasing PMS, my mom's health, and my furniture dilemma.

1. Work: Cant talk about it - moving on.
2. School: I have two writing-intensive classes this semester. I am writing a minimum of one 12-20 page paper a week. Some weeks I have 4 papers due, all of which are due on Mondays. I have a very supportive work group. We very smartly volunteered to be the first group to present in my Curriculum Theories class. Good move - no one to compare us to and we set the bar. I am so glad I have these three women, without them I would probably rethink this whole Ed.D process.
3. C's Rapidly Increasing PMS: Puberty is starting to crush my little lady. She's royally pissed because (this is a direct quote), "My breasts are growing too fast, and they hurt. Mommy wont let me shave my legs because she says my hair is still blonde and no one can see it, but I can and there are black ones there, Debbie I swear it! I am also getting hair. Down there. I am using my deodorant, but the other day, after gym, I did this (raises arm and sniffs) and I almost puked. I am also afraid I'm going to start my period at school, so I have been keeping a jacket or sweater to wrap around my waist just in case. I know _________ will make fun of me if she sees it. I know it!" When she paused for a breath after this incessantly long run on sentence, I asked her, "So, are you freaking out?" She rolled her eyes at me and said, "Yeah, Duh." Her dad walked in and she locked up tighter than a clam, jerked her thumb at him, muttered, "Don't tell this guy," and marched off to bed to wallow in her stinky hairiness.
4. My Mom's Health: My mom is in menopause - yes the hormones are haunting me in every way. She was convinced she had uterine cancer after having her first period in 11 months. I kept telling her she probably ovulated because she's only 53, extremely healthy, and hey, shit happens. After 2 ultrasounds, bloodwork, and a PAP, her GYN told her, "You ovulated and you had a period." Told you so.
5. My Furniture Dilemma: So you may have read about B and I buying new living room furniture and tables. We deliberated and finally chose the fabric and sofa on which it would cover. Well, after having 3 out of 4 tables delivered and paying 20% down on a sofa and two chairs, the furniture store called and reported that the couch we chose could not be covered in the fabric we wanted. Long story short, I complained, they're coming to get the tables, and I am getting my 20% back as well as delivery fees. We are going to La-Z-Boy this weekend. I'll keep you posted.

** I borrowed the pic from this person. Obviously, I don't have time to read her blog, but I love her art.

Passing the Torch - Part deux

We finally, finally, FINALLY finished our homestudy!! The notarized documents arrived last week and our social worker sent me a "Sayonara Sweetheart" email on Friday.
We are finished. Again. For Real. Stick-A-Fork-In-Me-Done.

Now the wait for the brown envelope begins.

Brand New

So, how do you like my new lovely image at the top of my blog? Thanks to my epals Amy and Ruby I have a Brand New Look. One thing to know about me, is that I love Brand New Things.

So Amy & Ruby Cate, Thank You, Thank You. This is just what I needed on a snowy day where the only things facing me are writing a yucky paper, reading a yucky text, and fighting a yucky cold. You're the best!

People Like Us

Every year around this time, B & I make a major furniture purchase. Last year we bought our bedroom suit. It's very lovely. The bed is so big, we have a total of 13 standard and king size pillows. I am lounging in it right now. This year we decided to replace our living room suit and tables. We finally agreed and made the purchase. Delivery will be in 6-8 weeks.
However, furniture isn't really the point of this blog, it's about coincidences, and the love and admiration I have for my husband.
Last year we were trolling around the furniture store bickering about what bed to buy. As we meandered through the aisles we saw a family. A mom, a dad, and a daughter. A daughter very obviously from China. I pointed them out to B and told him I wanted to talk to them He asked me not to, saying no, it would be intrusive. ***Keep in mind we had recently shelved fertility treatments and dusted off Plan B. Plan B, our plan to adopt from China, had been languishing on the shelf growing fat and sassy. A little piglet of smug. Anyway, I decided to make a comment about how their daughter was pretty, and that we were adopting from China too! This family was so nice. Throughout our financing process they stood and chatted with us. Mainly with me. B stood beside me holding my hand and listened. I could feel the tension in his hand. When I asked him about it later, he told me he didn't want this family to think we were weird and intrusive. They were the first people, outside of our family and close friends, we had told we were adopting. It just seemed right to mention it, and I was glad I did.
Fast forward to today, we were once again in a furniture store bickering about what to buy. I had a small panic attack (something I do when I have to spend a lot of money). Wanting to quickly escape my radiating stress, B wandered over to the lounge area of the store to get me a soda. 15 minutes he comes back, a spring in his step, grinning like a fool. He told me he just met a family with a daughter from China. He then told me about how he walked right up to these people and told them that we are adopting and are finished with our homestudy. I said, "You talked to them?" He said he couldn't resist; he wanted to meet other people like us.
Ruby is gonna be one lucky little girl having a daddy like him, and people like us to be her parents, family, and friends.

It's a Small, Small World

Ever since B & I decided to adopt from China I have been lurking all over the internet joining forums, reading blogs, researching China, and started blogging myself. I have read about so many interesting people and shared their journeys via the World Wide Web. A year later, Karen and D are anxiously awaiting Maya Papaya, Susan and Will are packing and preparing for their trip to meet Olivia, Lissa and Russell are loving Lydia and Amy and Ruby are having the times of their lives. I think about these families I haven't met. I am surprised by the commonalities we have, and I look forward to sharing their happiness, albeit vicariously.
The one journey I have followed from the beginning has been Karen and Scott's (I can't link to their blog because it's private). I don't know these people, but if I saw them on the street I would stop and ask about their lives. I know about their marriage, their struggles and successes, and their adoption of Gwen from the first stages of the process, through the scary, harrowing first three weeks of being with her and wondering if she would make it through the night, and through the celebrations of her first birthday a few days ago. I also know other personal things that, even though they are strangers, makes me sad and angry and worried. It's hard to believe, but it's true. My thoughts are with these people I really don't know, and I am humbled and amazed by the power of the internet and the power of people.

Not Again!

Having my usual luck, the small burning ember of the homestudy torch that was passed has been returned. Reason being, I need another letter from my doctor regarding my hypertension. Great. As you can recall, back in September, I asked for, received, and promptly thereafter fired my doctor. I have since moved to a new doctor. This guy is nice, but his office staff leave much to be desired.
I make the call, give my info and make my request. The person with whom I am speaking (I have no idea if she's a nurse, assistant, LPN, or receptionist), says, "It's really sad that you have to go through so many hoops to adopt." I let this one slide, because in many ways I agree with her. I respond with, "Yes it is, and this is a last minute hoop, so I would appreciate the letter as quickly as possible." I was hoping this redirection would help expedite the call. Personal phone calls at work are frowned upon, and since I share an office, I try to follow the rules. The rest of the phone call goes like this:
She says, "If you don't mind me asking, where are you adopting from?"
I answer,with a little sense of giddy pride, "We are adopting from China."
Her response, "That's really sad too, when there are so many kids here that need adopted."
My deflated, curt response, "I respect your opinion; this was a very personal decision for my husband and me, and I really don't think this is the point of this phone call. When can I come in to pick up my letter?"
I was so pissed. I know I opened the door, but I viewed it as a) a friendly inquiry, and b) a need to be polite because I was asking for something from these people. But you know what, I don't have to be polite, and unfortunately, I can think of so many meaner, caustic things to say now that I have had time to think. How nice do I have to be? We pay monthly for health insurance, I pay a co-pay every time I walk into the office; I am a customer. The staff at this office are rude, stand-offish, obviously opinionated, and really are all around assholes. I don't think this doctor is worth it. Perhaps I am expecting too much but, I am one of these people who refuses to put my doctor on a pedestal and take his/her word as gospel. I have a decent amount of education, and although I didn't go to medical school (back off), I tend to view my doctor as a peer rather than an authority figure. I know my body better than anyone else and even though I respect and admire the medical profession, I don't have to be treated like shit by my doctor or by his/her staff. I am at an impasse - I didn't like my first doctor, but she had really great staff; I like my new doctor, but I hate his staff. I am giving it a year, which will be September, and I will search again for the perfect blend of doctor and office staff. If I am lucky, I'll find one who gives out lollipops too.

Please Squeeze the Charmin!

So my mom called to tell me this story about my nephew, and I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. My SIL, Kim decides to take a shower, and, as she steps out, she notices that Chubs is playing with the white terrycloth shower curtain. She also notices that very close to Chubs' little hand is a giant, brown circle approximately the size of a baseball. Not knowing what it could be, Kim picks up the shower curtain and sniffs. Yes, it is shit. The culprit is the mysterious fellow to the right, who fessed up to wiping his ass on the shower curtain because there was no toilet paper available. Hey, no skid marks in the Sponge Bobs allowed!

Passing the Torch

So I just returned from handing off a check for our final homestudy payment as well as the highlighted and corrected version of the final document to our social worker J. Now it's up to B and me to gather and hunt for the remainder of the dossier prep process and get this show on the road.
Although I am happy with our agency - they've been super nice, I am sort of wishing we had gone with our other choice, paid the extra 900 bucks, and let them do all of this prep. I am so afraid that I am going to drop the ball and drag this out even longer than it's already taking. Fortunately I have some floating holidays I can take. I am planning to take one in the next week or so and knock this out. Wish me luck!

Cha-Cha-Ching

Here we have C, lover of stuffed animals, Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl," hooker makeup (thus the bright blue eyeshadow), television, ham sandwiches with ketchup, "Bohemian Rhapsody," and American Idol. C also has no, count 'em, NO fashion sense, difficulty remembering to shampoo, a very bad habit of farting in public places, and a great need for orthodontia.
Neither B nor I needed braces, so when C had her first appointment with Dr. T to apply brackets and bands, B listened closely and took notes. You would think he was being quizzed or something. We non-braces people learned that all things good are forbidden when wearing braces. Especially braces that set your parents back $7400. Apparently B thought C was listening as closely as he was. He was wrong.
Here's the scene:

1. B & C arrive and are shuttled into an assembly line of chairs at 8:00 am.
2. By 8:30 am, the purple and pink (remember I said NO fashion sense) first set of braces are applied and the note-taking lecture ensued
3. At 8:35 am B signs an ironclad contract agreeing to pay big bucks for this kid's mouth.
4. At 8:36 am B writes a check for $550, the first of many, many to come.
5. C arrives at school, braces shining by 9:00 am
6. B arrives at work by 9:25 am.
7. At approximately 11:02 am B receives a phone call from C's mother informing him that C ate Nerds at break, popped a bracket, and is hysterically crying in the nurse's office at school.
8. 4:00 pm B & C are shuttled into an assembly line of chairs for the second time in one day.
9. By 4:10 pm the bracket is repaired, the second lecture has taken place, and C appears remorseful and attentive.
10. Finally, at 6:30 pm B gets a phone call from C saying, "Dad, I ate soup for dinner."

See what I mean?

Rock Star

Happy First Birthday, Chubs!

Resolutions

I don't make New Year's resolutions. It's too much pressure. Being an inordinately lazy person, resolutions open doors to failure and add more stress to my taxed brain when I think about all of the things I should be doing. Think about it - I am lazy; therefore I lament regularly on what I should be and could be doing instead of being lazy and lounging around. Compound that with additional resolutions that usually revolve around some type of life improvement like losing weight, exercising more, blogging regularly, or cleaning my closets makes for undue stress, consequently hurting my brain and exhausting me to the point where I have to have to lie down for a while.
Although I may be exaggerating, I believe I have a point. Instead of resolutions that revolve around change and improvement, I have decided to take things as they come, and resolve to make acceptances:
I resolve to accept my laziness as a part of who I am.
I resolve to accept the fact that I procrastinate things to the point of crisis.
I resolve to accept that my thighs rub together.
I resolve to accept that this adoption is taking way longer than I want.
I resolve to accept that C has horrible fashion sense and enjoys looking like a clown on crack.
I resolve to accept my lack of organization.
I resolve to accept that I am obsessed with the mail, shoes, and books.
I resolve to accept my romance novel addiction with pride instead of shame.
I resolve to accept that I am a bad friend that rarely calls or emails, but still loves and worries about my pals.
I resolve to accept I will never stop having pimples even though I am thisclose to my 35th birthday.
I resolve to accept my self-absorption.

New Beginnings Late in the Game

I know I devoted an entire post to my shiny new ring, but I didn't say much about the rest of Christmas. This year was fabulous. We all got along, everyone was thrilled, and the memories of last year finally began to fade.
Last Christmas, B & I we struggling with our decision to stop infertility treatments and bump Plan B into Plan A. At the same time we were all dealing with C's mom's unplanned pregnancy and how it had become a bitter ghost moving in and out of our house. I was angry, B was worried, and C was just being an all-around asshole about it. Last Christmas C got her first spanking, I cried all morning, and B was angry and sad because both of his ladies were miserable and he couldn't fix us.
This year, as I said before, was different. We were relaxed, slept later (the benefits of having an older child, who, although no blood-relative of mine, seems to have adopted my lazy gene), and had a nice holiday. Outside of the jewelry, B decided to theme my gifts. Because I travel an insane amount (I think I've stayed at every Hampton Inn within a day's drive of my home), B kept this in mind when purchasing my gifts. I ended up with a car safety kit, XM radio, keyless ignition/entry, space bags, an iTunes gift card, and a spray can of Mace in my stocking. Think he worries about me when I'm out there on the road? He put a lot of thought into the whole present thing, which is very sweet and cool.
Another great thing this year is that we actually had Christmas morning, which is also her birthday with C. For the last 8 Christmases we have celebrated on Christmas Eve, and C would have Christmas Day at her mom's house. We don't share the holiday. I know there are blended families out there that can all come together and make it work, but we are not one of them. Enough said.
Anyways, after having a leisurely morning opening gifts, B decided to scope out the city to see about getting breakfast. We all piled into the car and headed toward Shoney's, the only place open. The place was packed with firemen. It was sort of surreal. We hit the buffet and as we tucked into our food, C began talking about her birthday and was asking B about the day she was born. No big deal, really, just talk. Apparently the waitress overheard C and asked to speak to B. Ten minutes later, here comes our waitress holding one of these followed by the rest of the wait staff clapping and singing the requisite restaurant birthday sing along. The look on C's face was priceless. As she dived into chocolaty vanilla bliss, she turned to me and said, "Can we make this a tradition?" I scooped up a bite for myself and replied, "Yes, we can."

Rex Kwon Do Better Watch Out

Although I normally won't post pictures of my family and friends (It kinda freaks me out even though I know there are few people that actually read this blog), this is one of my all-time favorite pictures.
My nephew Noah is a nut. He loves his "fryjamas" and these stinkin' moon boots. He does karate in his Sponge Bob underpants, freaks out over Game Cube, obsesses over "bad guys," and can name Hot Wheels makes and models in a Rainman-esque fashion that astounds mortal men. He's a redheaded hellion who can sing "Take Me Out" at the top of his lungs and is terrified of spiders. He likes to sleep in my bed, but won't let B sleep with us because, "He lets big, stinky farts," and gives the best hugs ever.
I love him beyond words.

Bling! Bling! Christmas is Shiny!

Well, a month's gone by and I haven't blogged since the last holiday, but honestly, I have been so wrapped up in work, finishing school, and Christmas shopping I haven't had time to do much of anything else. Well, except get the worst haircut EVER. I swear my hair looks like this, but truthfully, the wig looks better. I find it disconcerting that my hairdresser, whom I have trusted implicitly for the last 3 years decided to make me look like I need to be in a retirement home. Regardless, Christmas at my house was full of family, love, and bling.
I won't lie and say that I regret not having a big wedding. Eloping with B was the best decision I have made in my life; however, at the time of our surprise nuptials, we rushed to get rings at a local shop that rhymes with "lawn." Don't get me wrong, I am not a jewelry snob or even a girly girl who likes to wear different pieces, but for a while (several years) I have had a serious case of diamond envy. I'm not choosy, I just wanted a carat. My small, shiny, beautiful diamond has great sentimental value, but I still coveted the rings of my friends. If that makes me shallow, so what! At the time of our marriage B and I made less money combined than I make now. We were poor and in love and made do, and for these years of diamond envy B refused to even discuss a bigger ring. He just couldn't see how a piece of jewelry could make me happy. Nevermind the fact that he pays monthly rent on a studio for his drums that he visits at least once a week, but hasn't had a consistent paying gig in over 2 years. I digress...
Imagine my surprise this Christmas Eve when I got my carat. Finally after years of envy I got what I wanted. A carat solitaire that shines lovely on my fat little finger. Upon giving it to me, in front of both our families who were in on it, he stated, he realized that this time next year we would be getting ready for our trip to China; and after that we would not only have Cadance, but Ruby, and eventually grandbabies. This would be the last time we could really focus on each other. With flourish and grandeur he presented me with the ring. I couldn't be happier, but much to the disappointment of B and the fam, I didn't cry.
Next up, a new band for Valentine's Day...

Although I Like to Eat...

Being that today is Thanksgiving and I have been up since 4:30 this morning, thanks to passing out last night around 8:30, like many others in the world have decided to list my blessings for which I am thankful...

• B - my love, my heart. What a guy. Predictability at its daily best - laughter? Check! Telling me he loves me? Check! Singing something silly about poop? Check! Talking to his dumbass cat that I hate in this schmoopy, baby voice that gets her engine revved like she's in heat? Check!
• C - Being a stepmom isn't very easy, and sometimes isn't all that fun. Even though boundaries abound, it's mostly just great. An awesome kid that let's me practice being a mom without recourse (yet) whom I love to pieces. I am lucky and I try not to forget it.
• My family - No matter what they've got my back, and vice versa.
• My friends - The Holy Trinity: Rachael, my sister in heart, who's been there the longest and loves me still, Alicia, my wife, who keeps me on my toes and allows me to be totally selfish while arm wrestling me for time to talk, "Okay, enough about you let's talk about me..." and Caroline, my constant, who's blunt honesty calls me on my shit, even when I don't want to hear it and it makes me really mad.
• My partners in crime - Lori and Tami, I am so glad I am a little bit insane, otherwise we'd drive each other nuts. It's nice to get along since we have to spend so much time together. The good new is, we aren't legally responsible for each other.
• And finally, my Ruby - Words aren't enough to say how much the wait is killing me. To see that face, dry those tears, tell her to "walk it off," finalize my family, watch her grow into an amazing woman, and love that love that makes me more and less of a person at the same time. With her, my work here will be done.

... thanks be.

All Talked Out

Well, we had our first home visit for our home study today. I took a personal holiday to finish cleaning the house and discovered the magic wonder of these. My mom always hangs with the bald dude, but I can't cheat on my regular guy. Who the hell has an all white kitchen anyways? Me, the woman who doesn't have full-time kids. Who will be painting said kitchen in the near future to avoid going through a 4 pack of magic erasers, one industrial size Clorox disinfectant wipes and an entire bottle of Spic & Span? Ooh, Ooh, Ooh, Pick me Mr. Kotter! I digress...
Our cute as a bug in a rug SW, J, came breezing in at 2 o'clock with a sunny smile and soft spoken ways. B was convinced she was coming to throw down the gauntlet, take one look at us and laugh her ass off. I was stressed because we create more dust than Kansas. Regardless, I kept reminding myself that she's a nature loving, no make-up, but still beautiful, trying to hide it hippie and attempted to relaxed. She's one laid-back chick. I talked even more than last time and realized I am a huge, pretentious nerd. C talked very little, which was surprising, but after J left she went on and on how nice and pretty she is - weird. B made jokes and somehow got her to disclose more information than she probably should. Before we knew it 3 hours were killed and we kicked her out of the house. The tension and stress of the day deflated like a leaky balloon and we all sat down to a silent dinner. There we were, halos of kitchen lighting around the blonde heads of our family trying not to acknowledge the silent, empty space at our table that's waiting to be filled with the noisy chatter of a baby girl with black hair that will reflect the light like rippling city lights on a deep moving river. Quietly eating BBQ, We shoveled it in like farm hands after a day of barn raising. What a day.

I "Heart" B

B & I had our first official interview with our social worker today. We met at her office and, being that it is only a block away from mine, B met me there. I was so proud of him, he looked so handsome and cleanly shaved, even though I know it wasn't for my benefit. She asked us general questions about our lives, family support, how we feel about interracial families, etc... All in all, we talked both her legs off, and made her laugh more than she probably should. To us, a good meeting.
The best part though, while sitting there in her chintzy wing-back chairs, was being reminded of how much I love my husband. It was like I was standing outside looking in at this couple who so desperately want this baby, but know that if, for some reason, it doesn't work out, will be okay. I have learned that with this man by my side I can weather anything. We've gone through death, major life-threatening illness, crazy people, divorces of friends and family, financial strife, and the heartbreak of infertility, and never once did we consider being apart was better than being together. He is my best friend, soul mate, buddy, partner in crime, and the love of my life. With him I am so much more.

I Will Hug It, and Love It, and Kiss It All Over

I am jonesing for a dog like nobody's business. I really believe it is stemming from the fact that 1) CCAA has slowed down the referral process and we are now looking at 2007 rather than 2006 to get Ruby, 2) my cat Darwin, the one that I love, is no longer really feeling the love for me, and 3) this picture of Dakota, a puggle from Yonkers, NY is luring me to break out the checkbook and scoop up one just like her, name her Eloise, and teach her amazing tricks that will get us a spot on Animal Planet. I love dogs, but B & I went with cats as pets because we are not home enough to give a dog the attention she would need, and making life adjustments for pets is not the same to us as making a life adjustment for a child. Cats are the perfect pet for people who are busy. They are independent creatures who do not want to be cuddled, loved, played with, and paraded for all to see. It doesn't surprise me that all of these doggie descriptors are some that are also applied to babies/children. I know that deep down I am ready for Ruby and a dog would only be compensation till she gets here. I can wait for the one thing I want - delayed gratification knows no bounds.

Kinda Like Labor, Or So I Hear

Well, first off, I am finally well. After two antibiotics, a nasal spray, and a Diflucan I am now crud free. It's about time - I don't have time to be sick. I have bigger fish to fry.
Right now I am trying to figure out when my almost-10-year-old stepdaughter, C, became a teenager. This past Saturday, C had her first Halloween/early birthday slumber party. We set them up in the dining room with pizza, snacks, a Bratz Dance Pad and Kidz Bop 8, a cd player, and let them go. The first indicator I got was when the girls were eating pizza. B & I were in the kitchen eavesdropping and all of the sudden we hear, "Let's play Truth or Dare!" B and I looked at each other and held our breath. The game starts, and we hear C say, "I dare you to make out with that skeleton." WHAT!?! B snorts diet Coke out of his nose and starts cracking up. I quietly restrain myself from jumping up and running into the dining room screaming, "Where the Hell did you hear that? No one in this house 'makes out!'" Which is untrue, but I don't want to scar her for life. But I said nothing.
The second indicator came when I was fulfilling the promised "pedicure" part of the party. Out of the blue C asks, "When can I shave my legs? Caitlyn shaves her legs already, can I?" Holy shit. Talk about on the spot. I finally mumbled, "We'll talk about this later." Goddammit.
The third and final straw came Monday morning when she walks into the spare bedroom, where I am ruthlessly ironing khakis, wearing Whore Red lipstick and a big fat smile. I take one look say, "NO," and keep on ironing. She then proceeds to gently wipe it off, leaving a lovely smeared pink residue, and begins applying glitter lip gloss in methodical, hypnotic circles on her lips. Again I take one look and say, "NO." Well, let's just say that the second rejection of her aspirations to be hooker or possibly Dolly Parton resulted in a wailing litany of "It's just gliiiiittttterrrr!" I finally had to whip out the, "If you're smart, you will silently sit in the backseat of this car and be very, very quiet" line, which subliminally says, "If you don't shut up I will have to slit my wrists, which means you and your dad will be left alone and he will allow you to go to school looking like a hooker, you will get knocked up at 12, live on Welfare, and smoke two packs of Camels a day, and if this happens I will haunt and torture the both of you as long as you live..."
I don't know what happened. It seems like yesterday boys were gross, bathing was a battle, and the highlight of her day was listening to her lullaby cd she's had since she was two. Now I have a premenstrual, hormonal, Gwen Stefani worshipping pre-teen. And, to add insult to injury, I will be experiencing this all over again in about 11 years with Ruby, which is just enough time for me to forget about the pain and agony I have experienced this week.

Being Sick Sucks

I am so sick of food T.V. I could puke. Why is it that T.V. sucks so much during the day? I am sure there are people out there who stay at home and enjoy such masterpieces as: Dr. Phil, Maury, Judge Brown, and As the World Turns. I am not one of those people. If my head didn't hurt so badly I would try to read. As it stands, I can't handle concentrating that hard. Thank Bob, daytime T.V. doesn't require much. I have raging ear and upper respiratory infections thanks to being in close proximity to people who are sick and traveling in icy rain to Pennsylvania to see my boyfriends. Anyways, I feel like crapola and having shitty T.V. bites big fatties. I hate being sick!

I Am Larry Mullen, Jr's Bitch

Round-trip Mileage: 470 miles
Ticket: $115.00
Gas: $73.00
T-shirt $35.00
Great Mexican Dinner $8.43
Seeing the greatest concert of your life with two awesome friends: Priceless

Dinner is Served

Yet again time has gotten the best of me, and I am behind on my blogging. I can't use the excuse of being busy for a second time, so I guess I'll say I've got a lot on my plate. Imagine...

For the entree, I am having a big ol' bowl of Work. Like the neverending pasta bowl that Olive Garden touts on a regular basis, it never empties and keeps taking up way too much room on my table. Each task is a winding strand of noodle, and if I am lucky, the bite is accompanied by some exciting spice or sauce. Mostly it's sort of bland and filling.

My vegetable would be school. My classes are a lot like broccoli - I never want to eat it, but when I make myself, I usually enjoy it.

C & B would be my bread and water. With just these two, I can survive. C & B just give me my space and keep me laughing - my sanity, my salvation.

Finally for dessert, big scoops of social worker, with lots of warm home study paperwork, whipped cream USCIS fingerprinting, and sprinkles of fees paid everywhere.

I am full.

Wasted Wishes

Whenever I hear someone say, "I wish..." Usually it is followed by something lame like, "...This copier would go faster," or "...My feet didn't hurt." If I hear them say it, I will reply, "Don't waste your wishes!" Well, I am pretty guilty of wasting my wishes too, so I've decided to just put my wishes out there. If any of them come true, you will be the first to know...

I Wish...
Ruby was with us now
My house would stay permanently clean
C was with us full-time
I only needed 4 hours of sleep a night like Martha Stewart
My brother had 100% of his hearing
I had pretty, shapely legs
My family will live forever, or at least outlive me
John Kerry was president
I had a digital camera and knew how to take cool pictures like Karen
I could tap dance
B would get a salary projection for his promotion
I had no periods. Period.
I had Oprah hair (and her moolah)
I could ride an elephant
We weren't at war
I could knit
My friend Lori could find her split-apart
I could eat as many Doritos, fried green tomatoes, and bacon sandwiches as I wanted without gaining weight
I could be on Broadway, preferably in a revised musical like Bye Bye Birdie or The Sound of Music
Somebody would put Baby in a corner
I had time to read a book for pleasure every day
I knew more about politics and world events
I could find beautiful shoes that were high, high, high and didn't hurt my feet
Nip/Tuck was on 3 nights a week
Sayid on Lost would cut his fingernails - Gross
Harry Potter was real and we could make mischief together at Hogwarts
I was finished with my doc program
I could see my friend Alicia more
There would be no disabilities or mental retardation, which would consequently put me out of a job
I could use the word "consequently" more often
I could win the lottery
Bono will see me in the audience on Oct 22, and pull me onstage to sing With or Without You with him
I could rap
Plaster walls wouldn't crack when a nail is driven into them
French-tip manicures would go out of style
Michael Vartan would still be on Alias, it's so not worth it without him
Television Without Pity would hire me
I had more wishes...

I am sure there are more, I'm just too wished out to think of them