The hearing for Amy/ Chris has come and gone. O and I did not go, but according to Amy, not much happened. The G*A*L seems to be the only one involved in the legal process who is concerned by the fact that Chris has been in foster care his entire life. He was also vocal in asking why we had not been seriously looked at for Chris. The judge’s response was something along the lines of “That will be discussed at the next hearing”. It seems that during the next court hearing a decision will be made as to whether this case will move to reunification or to TPR. If the plan is reunification, of course we’re out of the process. If it’s TPR, I guess theoretically we have a chance. But again, D*C*F*S makes that decision – not the judge – and last we heard, we were not going to be considered. So forgive us if we’re not turning handsprings at this latest development.
(Note to D*C*F*S worker in other state– IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO CONSIDER US, SEND US BACK OUR DAMNED SCRAPBOOK, OR THE $40 TO REPLACE IT. I SENT YOU A SASE. HOW DIFFICULT IS IT????)
I did hear from Amy in response to my letter asking if she still wanted us to adopt Chris. The message she left was very sweet – that she hadn’t forgotten about us, that D*C*F*S was giving her the runaround about where her case was going, but that if Chris could not/would not be returned to her, she definitely wanted us to raise him. Again, no handsprings as D*C*F*S doesn’t care what Amy wants for her son, but it’s nice to know where she stands. She didn’t bring up the soon-to-be-born baby, but I didn’t expect her to. At least she knows we’re willing to adopt him/her. That’s good enough for me.
Did I mention that O and I went to the Gulf Coast for a few days? Oh my, if ever two people needed to get away, it was us. O had to work down there, so we went a couple of days early, got an oceanfront room with a balcony, and had a wonderful time. We arrived in the middle of a steady rain and couldn’t have cared less. We bought O his first pair of flip flops (how does a man make it to age 49 without having owned flip flops, may I ask?), marched out to the beach, took pictures and got soaking wet. The waves were really crashing, the sand was its’ usual beautiful white, and all was right with the world. In between beach/balcony time, O did his part to support local fisherman, eating seafood for every lunch and dinner. I researched the area locations that had been featured on “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” and we visited two or three of those. Yummmmm. We did a little bit of antiquing, walked on the pier to watch the sunset one evening, and generally relaxed.
We were on the Mississippi Gulf Coast for a couple of days for his work projects and we were shocked at all of the destruction that still remains from Katrina (5 years to the day, in fact). Mile after mile right on the beach where homes and businesses used to stand were still sitting vacant and overgrown.
This week I’m gearing up for a garage sale at my mom’s house to make some "mad money" for our upcoming New England trip. Why do those things sound like such great ideas until it’s time to actually HAVE THEM??? So, I’m off to find my masking tape and get back to pricing. I’m selling three boxes full of Mark’s clothes and toys. It was hard to pull them out one at a time and remember how excited we were when we bought all those things, and remember him playing with and wearing some of the them, but it’s even harder having them in the closet and seeing them every time I open the doors for something. I dread having to explain why we have so many brand new clothes and toys for sale. I know someone will ask. Boy oh boy, do I have a story for them.
(Note to D*C*F*S worker in other state– IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO CONSIDER US, SEND US BACK OUR DAMNED SCRAPBOOK, OR THE $40 TO REPLACE IT. I SENT YOU A SASE. HOW DIFFICULT IS IT????)
I did hear from Amy in response to my letter asking if she still wanted us to adopt Chris. The message she left was very sweet – that she hadn’t forgotten about us, that D*C*F*S was giving her the runaround about where her case was going, but that if Chris could not/would not be returned to her, she definitely wanted us to raise him. Again, no handsprings as D*C*F*S doesn’t care what Amy wants for her son, but it’s nice to know where she stands. She didn’t bring up the soon-to-be-born baby, but I didn’t expect her to. At least she knows we’re willing to adopt him/her. That’s good enough for me.
Did I mention that O and I went to the Gulf Coast for a few days? Oh my, if ever two people needed to get away, it was us. O had to work down there, so we went a couple of days early, got an oceanfront room with a balcony, and had a wonderful time. We arrived in the middle of a steady rain and couldn’t have cared less. We bought O his first pair of flip flops (how does a man make it to age 49 without having owned flip flops, may I ask?), marched out to the beach, took pictures and got soaking wet. The waves were really crashing, the sand was its’ usual beautiful white, and all was right with the world. In between beach/balcony time, O did his part to support local fisherman, eating seafood for every lunch and dinner. I researched the area locations that had been featured on “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” and we visited two or three of those. Yummmmm. We did a little bit of antiquing, walked on the pier to watch the sunset one evening, and generally relaxed.
We were on the Mississippi Gulf Coast for a couple of days for his work projects and we were shocked at all of the destruction that still remains from Katrina (5 years to the day, in fact). Mile after mile right on the beach where homes and businesses used to stand were still sitting vacant and overgrown.
This week I’m gearing up for a garage sale at my mom’s house to make some "mad money" for our upcoming New England trip. Why do those things sound like such great ideas until it’s time to actually HAVE THEM??? So, I’m off to find my masking tape and get back to pricing. I’m selling three boxes full of Mark’s clothes and toys. It was hard to pull them out one at a time and remember how excited we were when we bought all those things, and remember him playing with and wearing some of the them, but it’s even harder having them in the closet and seeing them every time I open the doors for something. I dread having to explain why we have so many brand new clothes and toys for sale. I know someone will ask. Boy oh boy, do I have a story for them.
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