Speed bump

Or maybe it should be called a sluggishness bump. It's not like we were moving at break neck pace.. but we've hit a speed bump.  I'm incredibly frustrated about it. Not because it's that big of a deal but I just can't stand it when people don't do their jobs.

So we were supposed to get our notarized copies of our homestudy yesterday or today.  But then I got an email from our agency yesterday morning stating they don't have documentation that we completed additional hours of pre-adopt training that China now requires.  Hmm. Of course you don't have said documentation because we haven't done additional training.  Because nobody told us we were required to damn it.  I sent a reply explaining that we weren't aware of additional requirements and that we're happy to complete them if we can be pointed in the right direction.  Half an hour later we get an email from another person at our agency that begins with "As you know, China now requires 12 hours of training, blah, blah, blah."  As we know?  Really?  Well, we do now but only because someone else told us. Otherwise, we wouldn't have known because YOU forgot to tell us.  They're going to go ahead and finalize our homestudy as this China paperwork blip can be taken care of between now and when we send our dossier to China.

The good news is that we found out that we can do the training on line.  Whew!  So we'll spend our long weekend doing on line classes and filling out our I-800A application to perfection.  Awesome.

Enjoy the long weekend, or ski week, or whatever it is you are doing to honor George Washington's birthday. Wink wink!

Food for thought

There are a thousand things I should be doing right now given my mom will be here tomorrow for a 5 day visit.  I should do some laundry, clean the bathrooms, polish the appliances, finish organizing our cozy master bathroom or patch and paint some holes in the wall because we had to remove some things to make room for the freaking piano we just bought. But no, instead I will write about the thoughts swirling in my little head.

I spent most of my morning at a PTA meeting and short of my soap box on "free school?  Move to Oakland!" campaign, I will keep it short and sweet that private school tuition in the city isn't looking all that bad in comparison to the projections for the budgets for California and our schools.  It will be increasingly more difficult, and more expensive, to give our children the education in which we expected when we chose the town and the schools that we did.  There is tremendous support from the parent community but unfortunately, that's only 15% of the voters and would be parcel tax payers.  Shoot!  This is not going to be easy.  And to think we moved out here and thought we won the school lottery.  Well, we did, but not for much longer.  I know schools aren't the most important thing to many of you.  Some of you are jobless or without health insurance or have dealt with far more tragic circumstances, but in my little bubble of simplicity and domesticity, it's a big freaking deal.

I'm concerned about this because we have not 1 more, but 2 more children who will enter elementary school in the coming years.  Who woulda thought I would become any sort of advocate for anything kid related.  ME?  At a PTA meeting?  I know, it's a little crazy. I've morphed into this mommy being I don't even recognize some days. But listen here, I will not morph so far as to put stickers of kid characters on the back of my car or plywood appendages sticking out of or off it either.  Reason enough to not let my kids learn how to swim that well.  (It's a swim team thing.)  I also will never, ever, drive a minivan. I'm not judging!  Not with any of this.  It's simply not for me.  (Let's face it, most of you wouldn't be caught dead driving my bald, bare smurfmobile either.)  As practical and luxurious as all of that minivan room is, with auto opening sliding doors, enough room for a kid to stand up and walk out on his own. It sounds fabulous. Even more so if the option of a limo type partition is included in any of the packages!  But still, not for me. I will keep driving a practical vehicle that my kids are stuffed into, have to hunch over on their way out, kick the door open with one foot while holding their hunched over bodies in place till they can sort of tumble on out.  That's my kinda ride. A hold on to your youth and independence a little too long sort of thing.  I do need to start thinking about what kind of vehicle to get next though. As much as I would love to stuff another kid into the current ride, it wouldn't be possible or legal.  In any way, shape or form. Not to mention you get what you pay for. I have a super cute, cheap car. And it's a pile of shit.  A not yet a year old dies driving down the street with your kids in it twice in four months and you never quite know when the thermostat is going to come on pile of shit.  Not good.  But cute!  And cheap!  And fiercely practical.  For a single girl.  Who lives in the city.  So, something to think about.  A smallish vehicle that can fit 3 car and/or booster seats in it. And it can't be too big. I already said no minivan.  But I also don't want a big SUV.  We have one now and have had even bigger ones and they're just not my cup of tea even if they are cool and tough and rugged.  So the playing field has been narrowed and it's time to start considering some makes and models.  If there's one thing I love, it's a research project so I've added best cars for 3 kids to my to do list.  I probably have to get serious about it sooner rather than later though. While we think we're a couple of months from finding out who baby sister is and about 6 additional months from then of traveling to pick her up ... as you've learned, we don't have ultimate control over any of this so I need my wheels to be prepared in case we get a call in 1 month and have a medical expedite or some other unplanned for event.  So new wheels. Pronto.  Let me know if you're in the market for the cutest pile of shit on the road. I'll swing you a hot deal.  If there's one thing we're better at than buying and selling houses and moving around the bay area, it's buying and selling new cars.  I'm committing this time though.  Going all in .  3.  Year.  Lease.  Baby.

More food for thought, that damn list of special needs.  Have we gone over it yet?  Of course not.  We keep talking about it.

"So babe, we should probably sit down and go over the list."

Parker "Ugh.  Do we have to do it tonight?  I'll tell you what. I'll put it in my bag and take a look at it on the way to or from work and then let's talk about it one night this weekend."

Me "Okay."

Weekend comes. Kids are asleep.  Parker foils my plan by pouring me a glass of wine before I even sit down.  And by the time I do sit down, he's pouring me a refill.  By then I have forgotten all about my plan and then when I remember it halfway through the strange movie we're watching on demand because we've watched everything new or good because we stay home every freaking weekend now that we live in the suburbs, it seems wrong to look at it as a tipsy afterthought.  This, this just seems like something we should do in a cold, dark room after learning our bank account has been hacked and drained.  Or maybe over coffee while the boys are with a sitter so we can actually give it the thought and respect it commands.  We also have a great resource that we need to tap into for help.  Parker's buddy from college's wife used to be the coordinator for the China Waiting Child Program at an agency in DC.  It would be great to get her thoughts on what does this type of special need really mean .. what ages are most of the kids from this special need .. what's the most common of the minor/correctable. And how many kids get put on the list each month. We've heard anecdotally that our agency gets a list of a hundred kids each month and some are easy to place and she locks their files immediately while others with more moderate to severe needs get put on a shared list for others to review. Our agency is great but they also play the you make the call card well.  i.e. it's all subjective. Some families consider Hep B to be a big deal while others think it's minor.  So first-hand insight will be tremendously helpful.  Another note for the to do list. Make contact with important all knowing individual who is married to Parker's friend.

Still haven't looked at the I-800A application.  I may wait until I print it out and can sit and read it in peace and quiet.  Like I could have done today instead of writing all of this.

This image is the back of a photo I posted back in the beginning of my blog. The photo is of me with my foster mother.  The back of it is some info.  My name at the time was Rachel Anne.  I was also a number.  The date was 7/25. I was almost 5 months old, but was about the size of a newborn.  I was 2 pounds 9 ounces when I was born.  It would be a feat in today's world to keep a child that size alive given my rough start at being born about 3 months premature, so imagine my little struggle almost 39 years ago.  My parents were told that I may have hydrocephalus and would probably have developmental delays.  They took me anyway.  It doesn't have to be nature to be natural.  My parents opened their hearts to a baby that wasn't perfect and that probably has a lot to do with why I'm about to do the same.  As for my husband?  This is another testament to what an amazing and inspiring person he is.

Creeping steadily along

Alrighty, so our homestudy is done but the finalization part is what we've been waiting on.  Our social worker had to submit it to our agency. Agency then finalizes it. I'm not sure what this means but I know the end result will be an envelope arriving at our home with 2 notarized copies along with our I-800A application packet.  I couldn't stand the wait so I sent a very polite message to the woman at the agency who handles these things.  I played the I'm so dumb and nice and ass kissing that you can't help but respond kindly card.  It worked!  I got a quick reply saying we normally need 2 weeks and we just got yours on the 6th .. BUT .. I'll finish it up and have it out to you in the next day or two. Voila!  For all I know it was ready and waiting, but I feel a tad bit victorious.

And she also emailed the packet for the I-800A application.  It was so intimidating to see the little attachment at the bottom of the email. I finally downloaded it and saved it to our computer but I haven't had the balls to look at it. It's the next big hurdle and it's in our hands. Eek!  The I-800A is a big freaking deal.


Purpose of Form:
For adjudicating the eligibility and suitability of the applicant(s) to adopt a child who habitually resides in a Hague Adoption Convention Country.
Number of Pages:
Form:  9; Instructions:  11; Supplement 1:  2; Supplement 2:  1; Supplement 3:  4

We can't make a mistakes on it or the USCIS will reject, yes REJECT, our application.  Wouldn't that totally suck!  I think you can rectify it if this happens, but still, it sounds so much scarier if you think you either get 1. approved or 2. rejected.  


My mom is coming to visit for the long weekend so hopefully having her here for entertainment will give us some time to focus on completing the I-800A.  We've been told the approval process takes couple of months from the time it's submitted. We have to send it in along with one of the notarized copies of the homestudy.  (The other copy will go with our dossier to China.)  Sometime after it is received, USCIS will set up a fingerprinting appointment for us and will send us a letter to let us know when and where the appointment will be. This is a little overkill because we already had Live Scan fingerprinting done. Those digital fingerprints go through the Department of Justice and FBI for background check clearances... so it seems a little redundant to have to do it again.  But they say jump, we jump!  So we'll do another round of prints then wait for our approval which is another lettered, numbered name of a document.  Once we get that, we're ready to send our dossier to China.  Also known as the DTC.  


Short and sweet.  Love to all.

What made you decide to adopt?

I'm circling back on a question that I just sort of breezed over in the beginning of my blog.  A question that always comes up from acquaintances and even some friends is "What made you decide to adopt?"  I'm sure our family and close friends wonder about this question too but have never asked us, knowing that we've pretty much always said we'd like to adopt someday.

The reason I breezed over it is because it was an easy decision for us.  But understandably, for many, it's tough to wrap your head around it.  When one of my good friend's was struggling with infertility I naturally, and maybe naively, asked if they would consider adoption. Her answer both surprised and offended me.  It was because her husband didn't want "someone else's kid."  Over the last 10 years or so I've often thought about that and I think he's not alone in not wanting someone else's kid. Maybe not that they wouldn't want someone else's kid.  But rather the uneasiness with taking on a child who is not biologically yours. For us, the concerns are practical. We worry about baby sister's medical needs and that she may have attachment disorder and the road to becoming fully bonded may be a long and tiresome one. And an expensive one.  But there's no question or concern about our ability to love her. It hasn't even come up and the only reason I'm writing about it is that I know for many that concern is real.  How can you love a child who is not "yours."

I think we all have an immense capacity to love.  I don't think that's at all the issue.  If you were handed an orphaned child today and you were the only option the kid had, you would end up loving him/her.  I don't think it's an emotion you can turn on or off.  From the outside, from people who will never consider, or have never considered adoption, they simply wonder.  But on the inside, for those of us choosing to adopt or thinking about doing it someday, we hope or we pray for a child. A child to love.

The question is probably deeper rooted. Rather than it being an issue about loving a child who is not yours, it's probably more about accepting a child whom you know nothing about... you don't know their ancestry... their genetic or medical background... you don't know what has or has not happened in their life... how messed up their parents may have been.  Too many unknowns make people uncomfortable. I get that.  But guess what folks, even if you and your partner get together and make a baby, there are a thousand combinations of unknowns that may manifest in many different ways in that baby of yours.  Yes, you can test for this or that or the other. But for all the things you can test for, there are many that you can't.  You also can't account for natural occurrences that happen in utero.  You may not know that you and your partner are both carriers of some mutant, recessive gene that is a volatile combination when it comes together in your child's DNA.   And for us it's even simpler.  Our kids could have come out with some really messed up stuff given we knew nothing about what may be going on in this body of mine.  We got lucky. They're perfect.  And they didn't even get the webbed toes that we know run in my husband's family!  We knew going into it that it was a crapshoot.  Now we're rolling the dice for the third time, but this time, we're doing it with a medical file in hand and our eyes wide open.  And like I tell the boys a thousand times a day "you get what you get, and you don't get upset!"

This subject also brings me back to something that occurred in junior high. Catty, immature, ridiculousness.  I was at a sleepover and a few of the girls taunted me with "how does it feel to know your parents didn't want you?"  Much like the question that started this post, I had never given this one a thought either.  IT doesn't feel like anything because IT is irrelevant. I think it feels pretty much the same to be adopted as it does to be biological. At least in my case. I'm sure other cases are different because every child is unique as are family dynamics. When I got home from school I didn't greet my parents with "Hi adopted mom.  Hi adopted dad."  Nope, my parents were just plain old mom and dad and they're all I had ever known or remembered. They loved me from the moment they met me and I'm sure I fell in love with them pretty quickly as well. Infants needs are pretty simple and if you meet them, it's just a natural progression of feelings.  We will be coming at it from a slightly different angle this time by becoming parents to a little girl who already has established relationships and feelings so we have our work cut out for us but at the end of the day it comes down to creating a comfortable, safe environment in which all of her needs are met.  Consistently.  Rinse and repeat.

And I'll share something funny that my dad said to me in response to the above situation. It was supposed to be a sleepover, so he knew something was wrong when I called to ask him to come pick me up.  When I got into his truck he asked me what happened. It took me a while to say anything because I didn't want to cry and I really didn't want to make him feel bad.  When I finally got the nerve to tell them what the girls had said, his response was "You tell those little brats that at least we got to pick you out. Their parents got stuck with them."  How do ya like them apples?  I know it was a totally inappropriate response but it made me feel better and we both laughed about it as a result.  And if you're wondering, no, I never told my friends that because the next day we were all back to normal, passing notes, swapping clothes, ratting our bangs, typical, junior high stuff.  I probably said something equally as catty, immature and ridiculous to one or all of them within a few days.  Teenage girls!  I'm sure baby sister will be sweet and drama free as a teen.  As if....

I also think there are a lot of you out there who have never even really thought of adoption and that's why you wonder wow, how in the world did you guys come to the decision to adopt.  Maybe you don't want kids at all. Or maybe you have enough bio kids. Or maybe it's simply never come up.  Some of you have pondered adoption a bit but maybe not knowing how to even begin the process or being an adoption outsider altogether makes it that much more overwhelming.  I think this is where the majority of the interest comes from.  It's sort of a fascination with a process that has such low visibility in the mainstream.  We often get "I know someone who knows someone whose cousin adopted a child from Mozambique." And then the litany of questioning begins.  

So for all of you the long and short of it is this.  We were both fortunate to grow up in small towns where we spent a lot of time with our families and enjoyed big family celebrations for birthdays and holidays. Some of my fondest memories were of being crammed into my grandparents home with all of my aunts and uncles and cousins... stealing olives off the little crystal dish on Mamo's table while we waited for dinner to commence and sneaking as much cinnamon and sugar lefse as our bellies could take, and acting surprised when my same age cousin and I got the same gift, in different colors, year after year, after year.  We want nothing else than to give our kids those sorts of memories, but since they don't, and probably won't, have any cousins, we need to add some more kids to the mix. We also realized that we love being parents. It's made us better people and a stronger couple.  To us kids = joy. And when we're old, kids = company!  So we set out on this path to our forever knowing we wanted a big family and that we (Parker) would consider adoption after having our own bio kids.  Parker wanted to test the parenting waters first, and I don't blame him. He's a boy. With boy brains. I can't make him think like me. 1. I'm a chick. and 2. I'm an adopted chick.  It's like we're from two different galaxies, not just two different planets.  So it wasn't really that something made us decide to adopt or that we had in depth discussions to help us come to this decision, but rather that for us, it was really just a question of when.  Every adoptive family arrives at this place in a different manner. I think it was easier for us than most because I am adopted and to me it's second nature.  For others, maybe it's God's calling. Maybe it's because they've exhausted all other ways of having a baby.  But I guarantee, none of us ever worries about loving a child who is not our own. Because orphans don't have parents. They don't belong to anyone. They are simply children who are waiting for someone to love them and call them their own.

Anticipation of a moment

The other day I read one of the blogs that I follow. The family is celebrating the 6 month anniversary of bringing their daughter home from China.  The post began with a simple, raw review of the day they met their daughter. I got tears in my eyes and goosebumps on my arms as I read it. When I was telling Parker about it last night he joked that I played it tough until we got married then I became a total wuss.  The truth is, marriage didn't soften me, becoming a mother did and that's why this mother's retelling of such an amazing moment got to me.  I am going to live that same moment and since reading about hers, I can't stop thinking about what mine will be like.

This blog post said that when they met, the little girl cried. She said she seemed small and fearful but her brave soul persevered.  She said that the tears welled in her but she just smiled and took her daughter's hand.  I can't even imagine the powerful emotions that will overcome me and baby sister at this moment. I learned very quickly one day that while I can be a very strong woman, I am not a woman that has the strength to control her emotions in very stressful situations.  Our little guy got very sick a couple of years ago. By the time we got him to the hospital he was losing consciousness and didn't come to for a few hours.  I cradled his lifeless body and walked from the ER, down the hallway to get xrays.  We watched helplessly as they put in an IV and he didn't so much as flinch.  All the while, tears rolled down my cheeks. One of the asshole nurses asked me what was wrong. What's wrong?  WHAT'S WRONG?  What's wrong is that my baby won't wake up and you haven't got a clue why. THAT'S what's wrong.  After I snapped at her, I cried some more.  I knew that I should have been stronger in those moments but the emotion overwhelmed me.  If there was one time I should have held it together more, that was it!  So I know that while the author of this blog, and new mother to a brave little girl, cried on the inside and smiled on the out, that I don't stand a chance at being so tough. Much to my husband's chagrin.  He cries too, but just at movies like say, The Time Traveler's Wife.  As we walked out of the theater, I could see him wiping away his tears and I said "Are you crying?" (insert dude, seriously?)  He responded with "Yeah, aren't you?" (insert you cold hearted beast!)  See, he's a baby too, but for wimpier reasons.  At least my tears are relative to real life!  And 99% about the lives of children. Mine, yours, theirs.

When we had our bio children, our "moments" weren't quite what we thought they would be. I'm sure many of you concur.  You prepare for this beautiful, blissful moment in which you watch the doctor guide your baby out, wrap him in a flannel baby foot-printed blanket and hand him right to you and it's magical.  I love that it happens for some like that. But for us, not so much.  To be totally honest, I was so out of it the moment I finally got to meet our older one that I don't even have a vivid memory of it.  It was a rough ride with enough drugs to require 6 infusion pumps on the IV pole and as many lines going into and out of my body.  By the time I met our baby, I was in the recovery room and just starting to wake up.  I loved him before I even met him but we just didn't have that crazy, magical moment you see on TV!

We had more of a moment with our little guy. I wasn't quite as doped up, nor as tired, thanks to a scheduled c-section (skipped the laboring and pushing altogether, woo hoo!) but what nobody tells you is that you're not just numb when you have an epidural, you're downright loopy.  Add to that a surgical assistant counting loudly, doctor's turning from chit chat about baseball to their plans to take off that old scar and give you a new and improved one, and the magic just sort of slips right through your doped up hands.  I did get to hold our little guy right away though.  I saw some of his first breaths, watched him look around and squint at the light, and soothed him with my voice and later, my boobs, so we got a little bit of magic.

The road ahead is still a long one, but I can't stop thinking about the moment we meet baby sister.  It will be the first time I'll be completely lucid as a new mom.  And it will be the first time I'll become the mother to a little person as opposed to a squishy newborn.  I cannot wait for that moment.  The pure joy in becoming a mother again, no matter how she reacts, no matter how overcome with emotion any of us will be.

Differences

Now that we're back on track and making progress with the adoption process, it's time once again to tackle the dreaded special needs checklist.  I haven't slept well the last two nights.  The first night was because we had our sick kid in our room.. on a cot.. on the floor.  And every time I heard him move I jumped up to make sure he wasn't throwing up again.  I must have gotten up two dozen times.  Last night I kept waking up thinking about who baby sister is going to be.  We read the story The Seven Chinese Sisters last night at the boys' bedtime.  We talked about things they noticed about the sisters.  They all have black hair.  They all have black eyes.  They all have "Chinese" clothes.  And so on.  I think that, and the excitement of being one step closer, got me thinking a lot about baby sister.

One thing that's been heavy on my mind is making sure we're doing the right thing by raising our family in the community we are in.  I went to the city a couple of times this week, and for those of you not familiar with the bay area, we now live in Moraga, which is a 25 minute drive to San Francisco if you time it perfectly, which I've gotten very good at!  When I was in the city on Tuesday I started getting anxiety wondering what in the world have we done... we traded all of this diversity and opportunity for a sleepy little town with much less diversity and not much else aside from fantastic public schools and big lots. But is that the right thing for baby sister?  There are huge differences between the city and Moraga.  Would it be better to raise baby sister in the city where she will see more people like her, where she doesn't look different than a majority of her classmates, where it will be easier to cultivate her identity as a Chinese-American.  I spent the good part of 24 hours totally stressing about it. I know, I know, I know, those of you (really just my husband's family) who already like to poke fun at how much we move are getting a big kick out of this.  But every move has had a purpose and if the housing market hadn't crashed, we would have been 3 moves fewer at this point.  In all honesty though, this is a BIG deal.  Raising a comfortable, confident young woman from another country is a huge responsibility and before we bring her home, we need to have our feet firmly planted.  As much as I wanted to talk to Parker about what was on my mind and distracting me, I didn't want to say anything until I had thought through it enough to come full circle. I thought through everything.  Who would the city be good for?  Us, baby sister, the boys?  Who would it negatively impact?  The boys.  The boys.  The boys.  What are the benefits of staying in Moraga?  Quality of life, more $ in the bank.  And the overall financial implications.  Selling another home.  Moving costs.  3 private school tuitions.  By last night I was ready to talk to Parker and before you gasp at what the result may have been, I will save you the shock.  We are not moving.  Yet.  Ha!  The yet part - we've always said we would move back to the city.  Maybe the kids will want to go to private high school in the city.  I doubt it as the public high school they are slated to attend is one of the best in the state.  So if not, we'll high tail it back the day after baby sister graduates from high school.  How ticked will she be when we're packing up on graduation day.

While there is tremendous upside to raising baby sister in the city, we also have to balance what is best for our entire FAMILY.  And what's best for our family is to stay put.  Our boys are happy out here.  They love the slower pace, hours spent playing in the backyard, friends in the neighborhood, and they each love their respective schools.  I love that they're happy and that Parker is less stressed at home (work is a whole different story).  Parker loves that the boys are happy, our mortgage is a lot less and school is cheap.  It isn't free.  If we wanted free school, we would have moved to Oakland.  You get what you pay for kind of thing. Hey, that's a good spin for our school's fundraising campaign:  "You want free school, move to Oakland!"  or San Francisco, or Richmond.  See what "free" school does for your kid!  Otherwise, buck up and stop letting other families foot the bill for your kid's PE, music, speech, etc. Stepping off my soap box now.... moving on.

Of course we can't change the ways in which Moraga differs from the city.  The upside is that this is a great community.  The people are friendly. It's safe.  The schools are phenomenal and our basic needs are easily met.  And did I mention it's really peaceful and pretty out here?  The view from our older son's elementary school alone is almost worth it.  A far cry from the rooftop playground of a private school in the city.  Sure baby sister will look different than a lot of her peers, but there are some families of color out here so she won't be totally alone.  Thanks to our son's kindergarten teacher, we met another family in our town who just brought home their daughter from Taiwan last spring and she and baby sister may well end up as classmates.  And it will be up to us to raise and educate her in a way that her differences don't define her or make her less comfortable or confident than any of her classmates.  We will also stay connected with the city to experience places and activities where her culture is alive and vibrant and celebrated.  Ways for all of us to learn and develop as a multicultural family.  Our plan is to get an apartment in the city in the coming years so that we can spend more time there and do more cultural activities.  Not just Chinese stuff.  But music, museums, movies, food, celebrations and activities that will provide our kids a well rounded education.  Opportunities neither of us had as kids growing up in small, predominately white, working class towns.  It's more a case of the tools we will have access to ... and they're all available. We just have to work harder and travel farther to access and utilize them.

The other differences that are concerning me are physical differences that baby sister may have and this is where we need more resources and more tools.  We have to fill out the dreaded special needs checklist.  There are some things on there that, to us, are no brainers.  Cleft lip and/or cleft palate.  They're easy fixes in our opinion. Surgery and orthodontia.  But hey, if she was our bio kid she would have needed plenty of orthodontic work anyway.  Those of you that grew up with me know what a mess of teeth I had.  Until I was twenty freaking one!  But along with surgery comes a scar.  I know it seems like a really minor issue when you're thinking about it as a rational adult, but for a young girl a scar on her upper lip may very well be a big deal. And I know a little bit of my heart would break the day she comes home crying because some little brat, most likely a 13 year old girl, made fun of her scar. Much like the night my dad had to pick me up from a junior high cheerleading slumber party because the girls were making fun of being an adopted kid.  Another no brainer for us is a child with a heart defect.  It could be as slight as a murmur or as major as something requiring open heart surgery.  Another case of worrying about a scar.  On her chest of all places.  We have friends who went through this and they provided great perspective, not only on heart defects in general, but specifically as it concerns scarring.  She told us that when she asked the surgeon about the scar, he looked at her like she just asked the most moronic question he had ever heard and he said something to the effect that the surgery was going to save her life, so who cares about the scar.  (another lesson in perspective - like our friend says, this guy fixes tiny baby hearts so don't go thinking you are doing anything meaningful with your life!)  So there you have it.  I like the simplicity of it.  Well, sweetheart, you do have a big scar on your boob but at least you're alive.  I hope she says yikes, you're right, my lucky to be alive scar! Hey, maybe we could use the same approach with the cleft lip scar. Well, what would you rather have, a tiny pink line above your lip, or a gaping hole with a close up view of your summer teeth?  I think I'm getting caught up on the wrong details!

Or it could be a different issue. We may mark yes to malformations.  This could be webbing of fingers or toes. Which, I have to point out, could have very well occurred with our bio kids as it runs in my husband's family.  So we should mark yes to it.  This would be an obvious physical difference.  Some cases may be correctable with surgery, and a scar on a hand or foot really is minor.   We could make up one helluva story for her to explain it.   If it isn't correctable then she could have hands or feet that look different than most.  Or maybe she will have a hearing issue. We have friends going through such an issue with their son.  Watching them has been a very eye opening experience.  And a great learning experience. The example they are setting is a great one for us and we know, with their guidance we could tackle a hearing issue.  Part of that package would include a hearing aid.  I will punch the kid in the mouth who makes fun of her hearing aid.  And his mother too.

There are plenty of things that we will unhesitatingly mark no to. Things that would give us a baby sister who would be so different from us that she wouldn't be able to be an active participant in our family life.  These aren't limited to just physical issues, but also mental, emotional and social issues as well.

I'm not really sure how to sum all this up other than this is just another peek into the thought process that goes into adopting a special needs child from another country. If I was pregnant, I'm sure I could write just as much about my thoughts and concerns about my unborn child, but the real difference is that when you're pregnant you don't have to make choices about what your child will look like on the inside or out.  It's those choices that are proving to be the toughest part of this entire process. I have read about many families who adopt from the special needs program and don't struggle with any of this and I applaud that.  It's noble.  I wish I could just open my heart and mind and not worry so much about the differences.  But it's who I am.  It's who we, as a couple are.  But like one of the women from our agency told us, we don't need to feel guilty about it because there are thousands of kids who fit the bill for baby sister so it doesn't matter if we check yes to one box or five boxes.  Saying yes to one is changing the life of a child who otherwise has no future.

Babymooned & Homestudied

Well, it's been a good and busy week.  Vegas feels like a thousand years ago thanks to school, activities, meetings, grocery store shopping, laundry and the cherry on top - vomiting. 


We took the last flight out on Friday night.  Everything went smoothly from the goodbyes (boys were so excited to be with their old babysitter) to the non-existent Friday night traffic heading east towards the city/airport (seriously!), to the on-time flight, to the in-flight drink service to the bags and our driver showing up at bag claim precisely when we did.  We checked into our hotel, went to our room, dropped off our bags, spiffied up and headed out.  At 10:30pm!  Party on Wayne.  


We had a late night dinner at Hubert Keller's burger bar.  Fancy in that there are all sorts of exotic meats and fixins to choose from but not fancy in that there were plenty of boobs, bellies, fupas and floating pupils on display.  It was Vegas after all.  Leave your class at home folks.  Like a total douche I ordered a glass of wine when we sat down. Wait, burger.  Bar.  Stupid move. I don't drink beer because it tastes terrible. Like abc'd saltine crackers mixed with tonic water. So, I regained some semblance of being able to hang with the drunk and trashy and ordered.  Wait for it.  A hard cider.  Hard core!  They're actually really tasty.  And light. And totally girly.  Burgers were great!  We ordered a triple of the sides... skinny fries, onion rings and the most decadent croquettes to ever melt in my mouth.  Mac n Cheese croquettes to be exact.  Oh.  My.  God.  Becky.  They landed on my butt!  But worth every krafty, cheesy bite.  Get 'em if you're ever there. Skip the fries, skip the onion rings, and if you're feeling really frisky, skip the cider. Go all in on the croquettes!


After dinner we hit the casino.  After about a dozen laps around the tables to find just the perfect table, Parker finally settled on one.  I'm not into gambling. My main issue is that you can lose so much money, so fast!  I spent too much of my life being poor to watch the cash basically lit on fire in seconds flat.  The other thing that skeeves me out is having to sit right next to people who are one of a handful of things that I won't mention because it would come off as rude and intolerant.  Bottom line - I don't want to sit so closely to a stranger that I can smell or feel anything that has gone into, or is seeping out of, their body.  Blech! 


Obviously  I didn't sit down at the blackjack table with Parker. He hands me some cash off of his roll of bills (he doesn't normally "roll" like that but it's Vegas...) and I saunter over to one of those wheel of fortune slot machines. I love those things. I don't even care about winning. I just can't wait to hear the crowd (in the machine) yell "Wheel!  Of!  Fortune!"  Then you hear the fake wheel start turning just like on the show, press the button and see where you land.  I got up a hundred bucks, down 25, up 50, down 100, up 15, and went on and on like this for about 45 minutes till I was back to zero.  I had a lucky round though. I think I got to spin 6-7 times. One of which was a triple spin!  I should have just stopped after that one but I didn't and ended up blowing it all.  I walked back over to the smelly table of strangers and put my hand out like a jobless teen and Parker peeled off another bill for me. Thankfully nobody swiped my machine.  Well, of course not, it's not like it was lucky.  It was just stupid fun.  That round lasted, oh, about 20 minutes.  Done.  I couldn't waste more money.  The satisfaction of the spin just couldn't offset the thoughts of all the things I could have bought and possessed for all that cash.  It was 1am and Parker had already lost a bit of dough as well.  So we walked away from the casino. For a hot minute.  To use the restrooms.  Then he said he thought we should get a drink before heading to our room.  So we did!  We went to what we affectionately referred to all weekend as "da club."  It's actually called something like the Sound Lounge and it's a sort of club right in the middle of Mandalay Bay.  But there's no cover and all the young hoochies are at the real clubs so it's more our speed. We had a cocktail.  Yawned and sipped through it then hit the hay.  


We met up with our dear friends on Saturday.  We went to Border Grill, Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger's mexican restaurant. Yes, I'm a celebrity chef stalker. On that note, I almost ran over Hubert Keller in the city last year. And I actually had to think about it.  (The fact that I actually had to think about whether or not to run into/over Hubert Keller is a little crazy, I admit.)  He was jaywalking in the financial district and I spotted him.. thought about it.. it would mean I could be face to face with him in seconds and rather than sue him I could wrangle him into fleur de lys reservations for life!.. but alas I didn't want to kill the badass so I slammed on my breaks, nearly deploying my airbags.  Back to Vegas.  Our friends met us at Border Grill. We got there first and sat down. The restaurant was empty. But within minutes it started to fill up and I started to panic knowing our friends would have their two kids and kiddos need room and we were smack in the middle of the restaurant. They showed up and in their flamboyant way, pushed their way through the maze of people, tables and chairs with their stroller, car seat with baby on top of the stroller and their 2 1/2 year old riding on top cowgirl style saying "hey guys!  how do you like our version of the double stroller."  I love them.  So much.  They're like the honey badger. They don't give a s&*t!  And it makes me love them even more.  Thankfully the host saw our predicament and moved us to a table against the wall in the back, near a secret exit.  Which was really handy when the sweetest, quietest little baby girl I've ever met had a near blowout (all you parents and Tommy probably know what that is) and they had to make a run for the bathroom changing table.  We had a delish meal.  I came for the guac and stayed for the huevos.  Even though my genetic testing tells me otherwise, I'm still convinced of my inner Latina.  So many laughs over lunch.  The longest and loudest of which was when our friends recounted a story about a recent trip to Whole Foods (she's a recovering vegan, vegetarian, hippie who I hope someday goes back on the deodorant) in which their 2 1/2 year old nearly took a spill taking a corner too fast with her "shopper in training" cart causing her to yell out "Oh S#$T!"  And as they're telling us this, little miss cutie pie herself who is sitting on my lap, turns to me and says "The nice thing to say would have been HOLY COW!"  Hilarious.  


After lunch we took the girls over to the Shark Reef aquarium.  That's when the guilt set in. Who in their right mind goes to Vegas then does kid crap?  Gluttons.  In more ways than one.  We hadn't been there since taking our older son when he was a baby.  That was a bad idea too but Parker's dad had just died and we were trying desperately to reconnect with the word fun. A quest that took years.  We did have a lot of fun at the aquarium.  Being constantly goaded by pint-sized Oh S#$t with "come on!"  "come on you guys!"  It's actually a pretty sweet aquarium.  Unlike the Monterey Bay aquarium, I don't think this one is in the business of helping and protecting sea life but instead probably paid big bucks for all the cool stuff they have. And we enjoyed it.  Gluttons.    After the aquarium it was time for Oh S#$t and blowout to take their naps so they left to head back home. Parker and I went back to our room to drop off the giant plush sharks we bought for the boys.  I wanted to take a shower and spend some time actually doing my hair and putting on makeup. Parker's plan was to hit the tables.  HA!  I came out of the bathroom and found that he had fallen asleep while reading.  We can't get crazy if we try.  Well, till the sun sets at least and we make a last ditch effort.  


We were meeting back up with our friends for dinner at Stripsteak.  Michael Mina's first venture into a steakhouse. On the walk through Mandalay Bay (our hotel was in the same building/property) Parker saw his dream girl walk by. You know how every guy has his fantasy dirty girl. Maybe she's got huge cans, tattoos, her butt crack shows out the top of her jeans or her cheeks peek out from the bottom of her skirt.  Maybe she smokes or takes shots of whiskey.  Or maybe she's all of that wrapped into one hot mess of a trashy package?  Well, my husband could care less about all of that. Not that he'd kick her out of bed. But, ah hem, his dream girl walked by in a plaid, belly bearing shirt, tight jeans and a cowboy hat made out of a coors light half rack box.  For real!  rectangular boxy cowboy hat!  That set the mood for our night.  We got to the restaurant before our friends arrived and were seated right away.  We ordered drinks and started reviewing the menu.  Our friends walked in a few minutes later with party cups in hand. Only in Vegas can you walk into a Michelin Star restaurant with a party cup of sprite and vodka.  See, they don't give a s$%t!  And I love it.  Every time we get together I love them more.  They are free thinkers and free doers!  We had a really enjoyable dinner.  Lobster fritters and salads to begin. The boys had steak and us girls had fish. I'm not sure if the boys even tried the sides.  They may have even grunted and swatted off each other when devouring their steaks!  Good meat brings out the caveman in every guy.  My girlfriend and I shared a decadent dessert and the cowboy asked for some to go cups of ice.  And they obliged.  Only in Vegas.  After dinner aperitifs mixed right at our table from the contents of a black plastic liquor store bag!


Now we get down to business and finally head to the concert.  That's why we're there after all.  To see Scotty McReery, The Band Perry and Brad Paisley.  The only problem is that we had so much fun at dinner that we missed the first act, and the second act. Such a bummer!  I didn't give a rat's ass about Scotty but I really, really, really wanted to see The Band Perry.   Oh well, like Parker said, don't be sad, let's just have fun with what's left.  Which was a lot!  We found our way to our seats and got all pumped up for the show to start.  I think it was about mid-way through the first song when a short, squat troll tapped my friend on the shoulder and growled "these are MY SEATS!"  we all started looking around, confused because we thought they were our seats.  I pulled the tickets out of my back pocket and showed them to the troll.  She said ok.. then a few minutes later, informed us that we were one section off.  Whatever trolly two shoes, honest mistake. So we hightailed it to the right seats and sat right down.  It was a little strange that so many people were sitting down, including us.  But as I scanned the crowd I realized why. There were lots of old people.  And people who may have had a hard time standing upright for long. And others who probably couldn't have stood up if they tried. And the row behind us was full of racked out little kids. Weird, I know.  I think it was the mommy guilt goddesses trying to ruin my buzz!  We sat for a while but finally had to stand and dance a little during "Alcohol" and then the old bitty next to my friend taps her on the shoulder and motions for her to sit down. We all did.  But then about 3/4 way through the concert more people started standing and it was contagious.  You can't just sit there, tapping your toes at a Brad Paisley concert.  The next time bitty made a move, my friend put her politely in her place and we happily danced and sang all the way through the encore.  Thankfully Kimberly Perry came out and sang with Brad as did Carrie Underwood. The cowboy tried to ruin it by saying it was only a hologram but I'm convinced it was her!  In all her beautiful, supple, blond, white teethed, angel voiced amazingness.


After the concert we found our way to another lounge in the casino area.  A really entertaining cover band was playing all kinds of songs from the 80s and 90s that drunk 30 somethings love to sing along to.  We danced and then a Kid Rock impersonator joined the band on the stage.  People were going nuts taking video and pictures.  Then he said he was a local entertainer, etc.  Now our friends are totally convinced it WAS him.  Wait, total impostor = real and the real thing = hologram?  No way!  We left that bar and found our way back to da club.  We danced a few songs then sadly our friends had to get home to relieve the babysitter.  They already got an extra hour out of her so they didn't want to push it. We were sad to say goodbye, especially since they may be moving far, far away.  To a country called South Dakota.  I'm not even sure where it is but I've heard it's a strange, cold land.  We really hope they don't move but it sounds imminent.  After the long goodbye we walked over to THE hotel and took the elevator up to Mix nightclub.  The view from up there was pretty sweet and it was more fun then the last time we were there and I just sat there, sipping my Roy Rogers!  We made it back to our room by 2.  Almost sober and ready for a snack. Thank goodness for the trusty pringles that find their way into every hotel minibar!  We slept till 9am.  7 straight hours.  Then got up, grabbed coffee and headed to the airport.  We were shocked at how quickly we got checked in and through security.  We were sitting down by 11am.  An hour and 45 minutes before our flight was to depart.  Then about 45 minutes later, the dreaded announcement.. that our plane was being inspected for mechanical malfunction.  Then about an hour later they announced that it was being taken out of service and they were trying to find a new plane for our flight to use.  .  If you've been to Vegas for a weekend, you know how ridiculously packed the airport is with folks trying to make it back home to kids, work, sobriety, rehab.  We ran to another empty gate to see if we could get help getting on another flight.  Nada.  There was nothing available that wasn't already oversold and with a long standby list.  But wait "there's a flight at 1:40 that only has a couple of people on standby. I'll put you guys on there."  Well, we got over to that gate and saw the flight was at 2:30, which wasn't that big of a deal.  But as we realized that when we approached that flight's gate my husband barked out tourettes style, in front of the customer service desk and a couple hundred people, while looking right at me "GODDAMNITMOTHERFUCKERPIECEOFSHITSONOFABITCH"  Just like that. One big run-on of a curse word epithet.  And if you didn't know any better, you'd think it was directed at me. All of this from my normally mild-mannered, slow moving, low key of a husband.  Nothing riles the guy.  Nothing, apparently, but getting screwed over at the airport on your way home from Vegas.  I don't think we talked for at least an hour. Not because I was mad at him.  I knew he wasn't talking to me.  But I also knew there was a storm brewing and I didn't want to set it off. I just wanted to let it pass peacefully.  We didn't make it on the 1:40 flight that was at 2:30.  So we were stuck waiting for our original flight that was delayed till 3:30.  After not getting on the 2:30 flight we decided to grab some lunch.  Parker started to cheer up knowing we would be getting home at some point that day.  When I realized the coast was clear I laughed and said I couldn't believe he just yelled out profanity like that RIGHT in the MIDDLE of the AIRPORT.  He chuckled and asked if it was really that bad. Um, yeah, that bad.  He apologized.  I didn't care.  By then it was more fun thinking of how all of those people thought he was a nutcase.  


We made it home by about 7pm.  Which totally sucked.  All we wanted that morning when we woke up was to get home and see our kids.  That may be lame but so be it.  On our drive home Parker said "Okay, let's never go anywhere on a plane again without the kids."  Agreed.  Did it. Don't need to do it again.  


By mid-day Monday I was full swing into mommy mode. I had scrambled eggs, packed snacks and backpacks, washed dishes, dried dishes, grocery shopped and skipped my shower. Just like any other Monday. Far, far away from a Vegas Saturday night.  


We didn't do much in the way of adoption stuff last week so this week I got organized and got back in touch with the assistant stork. I set-up our FedEx account number for her to use so she can get documents to and from states and embassies with ease.  I also sent in our fee and other information she required.  Some of the documents she needs have to be sent to her from our agency so I shot them a note asking them to FedEx them straight to her with our fancy shmancy very own FedEx account number.  I also sent our social worker another note to check in.  It had been a week since I last pinged her. I didn't hear right back from her.  

By Tuesday night I was feeling pretty good.  I was ready for the meeting I was going to on Wednesday night and I had made some progress with adoption stuff.  At a snail's pace we were once again making forward progress.  Then it happened.  I checked my email and it was there. Not just a reply from our social worker but the homestudy itself.  The draft version, ready for us to read and proofread.  YeahhoohallelujahHOLYCOW!  And it's better than we expected.  Just a couple of minor errors such as stating that Parker is 5' 7"  I don't know why I think that's funny, but I do. If she had made an error on my height, no big deal. I'm short.  I'm 5' 3" - but to say a guy is 5' 7" when he is actually 5' 11" is somehow emasculating.  Not to mention it would throw him over China's BMI limit so we have to make sure it's corrected.  So that's one of the only factual errors.  A few things she wrote aren't really our words, even though they're in quotations as if they were, but they don't change much so we may just leave them alone if it speeds up the process of getting the notarized copies of the homestudy to us sooner.  One minor thing she wrote that totally gets under my skin is that I talked about my dad being sort of the authoritarian, disciplinarian and "decider."  Okay George W.  I would never, NEVER say such a stupid word. I may type made up words on my blog but that is one word I wouldn't use. I wouldn't even use it to make a wisecrack about George W.  He's a nitwit.  Not worth my time to heckle.  Minor issues aside, we're going to email the factual corrections back today and hope to get the notarized copies within a week or so.  If I understand correctly, our agency will send us the notarized copies along with our I-800 application for USCIS.  We will submit that promptly and then wait.  We've heard anecdotally that the wait is at least a couple of weeks, maybe a couple of months.  Once we get the approval back, that will complete our dossier and we'll be ready to send it to China. Hopefully we're about 10 weeks away.  We get our referral after that and travel 6 months later to pick her up. We finally have a timeline, give or take a few weeks here and there.  


On the road again!