Mostly Pissy With a Chance of Increased Grumpiness

Man alive I’m grumpy. I was awakened just after 5am by a thunderstorm and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I decided to zip off an e-mail to my best friend. Basically I told her that I had a bone to pick with her and explained the reasons why.

As I wrote about on this blog earlier in the week, I had a couple of issues:

About a month ago I told her that I was having some irregular bleeding and was going to see the doctor the next day. I told her that while it was likely nothing, given my history, I was nervous about it. I phoned her the day after the appointment and literally the first 40 minutes of the conversation was about her and the D*ave Ram*sey class she was taking. By the time she was through talking about herself, the time I had available to be on the phone was over and I had to go. No mention from her then or since about how that appointment went.

More importantly, I told her at least twice that we had what we hoped would be our final meeting with our social worker last Tuesday – that it would be the meeting where we’d find out if we would be recommended as adoptive parents. Other people that I mentioned it to called or e-mailed with their “good luck” wishes, and/or got in touch afterwards to see how it went and share our excitement. Yet, nothing from my best friend. Not a word. For a week.

In her response, she remembered nothing of the conversation re: the irregular bleeding – not a word. She chalks that up to me breezing over it as if it wasn’t a big deal (though if she doesn’t remember the conversation, how can she remember THAT?). Hmmm – let’s see. I told her I was nervous. I told when anything like that happened, I was concerned about it being cancer. I don’t think that’s glossing over anything. I chalk it up to her paying so little attention that she was unable to retain the information.

As for her explanation about her not getting in touch to either wish us luck or see how our final meeting with the SW went, this was what she said: Her cousin (I think) found out on the same Tuesday that they were getting a baby from Russia. She was just too excited to hide that from me, was afraid of hurting me with the news, so she chose to not call or e-mail at all. (FOR A WEEK)

Can I just call SHIT for a minute?!?!

My response was as follows:

I have to say, your reason for not calling last week baffles me. O and I were in the midst of probably the best thing that could happen to us as it relates to becoming parents, other than getting the news that we’ve been matched with a child. We're not in the middle of infertility treatment. We haven't just been given a horrible diagnosis. We’re simply thrilled and excited about adopting.

One of my dearest local girlfriends is pregnant and I couldn’t be happier for her. Monday I am having lunch with a girl who is adopting a baby from Kazakhstan. She just got her first batch of pictures of him and is dying for me to see them. I recently had lunch with another dear friend  and her soon-to-be-adopted son and it was the most fun I’ve had in ages. Babies and adoption and pregnancy are everywhere in my life.

On top of that, I don't know T. or S.. (I'm assuming one is your cousin? I don't remember.) I've never met them. I doubt I ever will. Yet you made a conscious choice to simply blow off one of the best things that's happened to me in a long time - to not even CHECK ON IT - because I might be hurt by news of strangers adopting a child from overseas. If that was your concern, why not send an e-mail? Surely you could hide the excitement about your new second cousin in an e-mail?

And by the way, writing or calling to wish us good luck on the meeting would have happened BEFORE T and S's news . . .

I swear, I would have felt better if she’d just forgotten the meeting all together.

Then, I called my social worker this morning re: the e-mail I sent on Monday that SHE STILL HADN’T RESPONDED TO. I found her working away at her desk. Our paperwork is expected to be completed by the end of next week and on its’ way to the state office. I’m not sure how confident I am about that, but we shall see, I suppose.

PISSED - - - - PISSY - - - - PISSED!

Dear Social Worker

Dear Social Worker,

Ummmm . . . so . . . did you happen to see the e-mail I sent you 78 hours ago asking when you expected to have our final paperwork complete and on its’ way to the state office of adoption?

I guess not, since I haven’t heard back from you. Nope. Nothin'. Crickets.

I really do hate to be pushy, but do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to be a mother? Seriously – we’re talking at least 35 years here. That’s like eleventy gozillion days! That’s a long time.

I know you’re aware of all the hoops we jumped through to complete our home study. How many invasive things you / your forms asked and we happily answered. And what about those forms? There were a lot of them, huh? And the scrapbook I put together? Do you have any idea how much I spent at the scrapbook store trying to make it perfect?

Let’s not forget that we had to visit not one but TWO jails to be fingerprinted. My favorite was the one where the fingerprint machine was in the middle of the booking area and we were surrounded by 10 newly-arrested men and women giving us the evil eye from their respective cells. They were clearly trying to figure out what Mary Poppins in her fun spring skirt and darling sandals was doing there and what the street value of her jewelry was. This was the same jail, as you may recall, that never submitted those fingerprints to the state, so we had to participate in "Fingerprints 2, the C's Go Back to Jail".

What about this cute room we’ve got all set up? Did you remember that we dragged O’s mom’s childhood bed out of the barn where it had been for 50 years, stripped, stained and had a mattress custom made for it? And how cute is that quilt I made for it – all bright and fun?! Yeah, but see, there’s nobody here to snuggle under it at night. And you should know that the room has been painted so many times that it measures ¼” smaller than when it was built 3 years ago, as I had to find just the right shade of yellow – much more difficult than you might think. But alas, it is the perfect color yellow now, isn’t it? Yes, I thought so too.

Did you happen to notice the bookcase already filled with children’s books? I know, all the classics! But you see, there is no one to read them to. Surprisingly, O isn’t so interested in the collected stories of Winnie*the*Pooh, and reading to the cat is, well, just unsatisfying on so many levels.

And you know, Easter is coming right up and I don’t think I’m going to be able to convince my 47-year-old husband that dyeing Easter eggs is fun. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if we just had a CHILD to enjoy that with? You’ve seen our land and all the trees. Wouldn’t we have a fantastic Easter Egg Hunt? But the thing is, it’s no fun hiding eggs for the cat to find. Cats don’t really care about eggs, even those delicately dyed in shades of pink, purple, and blue.

You don’t live far from here so you must have seen how beautiful the last couple of days have been! Perfect swing-in-the-hammock-with-mom days, or bug-dad-and-ask-him-a-million-questions-about-the-lawnmowers-he’s-working-on days. Except there’s no one around here called “mom” or “dad”. But you, YOU have the power to change all that!

Yes, I know that despite your best efforts, we weren’t agreeable to becoming fos*ter paren*ts, so we aren’t as high up on the priority list but still, adopting is pretty important too, don’t you think? We will be really good parents, I promise. We will do everything we can to create a happy life for a child.

All we need is for you to do one tiny little thing for us . . . . just an eensy weensy little thing.

Could you just finish typing everything up and get it on its’ way to the state office? I even hate to bring it up because I know how insanely busy you are but gosh it would be nice to be a mom.

If there’s anything at all that I can do to speed that process along – wash your car, take care of your grocery shopping for the week, give you a lovely pedicure (I detest feet, so you can see right there how motivated I am), prepare your taxes, whatever you need, I’m SO there!

Oh, and if it’s not too much trouble, could you zip off a one-line e-mail letting me know just WHEN that whole "get all the paperwork on its' way to the state office" thing might happen?

So that I don’t go completely bonkers?

And start trying to teach the cat to carry an Easter basket?

I’m sure my husband (and the cat) would appreciate it, so thanks in advance from them.

Love and kisses, K

A Bluebird Day

So it's been a somewhat strange 24 hours.

My husband fell off a ladder at work (missed the bottom rung), so yesterday afternoon/evening was spent in the ER waiting to get him x-rayed. Oh, and did I mention that we were there for 3+ hours and that the ER was locked down twice while we were there. No one in - no one out. I was never brave enough to poke my head out of our little curtained cubicle to find out why, though I think one was a severe gun shot wound. But let me tell you, there were so many sneezy, snotty, disease-ridden people in that ER that if we don't get the flu in the next few days, we officially have immune systems of steel.

Happily, O has no broken bones, though he was walking like a 96-year-old man last night. He slept like a baby after I drugged him up with Ad*vil PM (GOOD STUFF) and is feeling much better today.

Anyway, I was laying in bed this morning and O was bustling around getting ready to hop in the shower (or to climb verrrryyyy carefullyyyyy into the shower) when I saw a freakin' COYOTE racing through the field across from our house, clearly after something. Since our cat Barney likes to hang out in the field, I was convinced that he was a goner. I called to O threw on my clothes, jumped in the car and drove over. I found the coyote fighting with a dog about its' size. I couldn't tell if they were fighting over something, or whether they were just after each other.

(By the way, when two dog-like creatures are fighting, honking your car horn, screaming "Hey! Stop it!", and waving your arms as if you are about to take flight does absolutely no good.)

They eventually broke apart and went their separate ways. Neither had Barney in its' mouth, and there was no sign of him in the field where the fight had been. But I spent much of the day going outside and calling him. He came moseying home about an hour ago, little shit. I'm sure he spent the better part of the day curled up napping in the sunshine while I had visions of him being the main course for a coyote.

Also, I've had a bone to pick with my best friend EM for about a week. I'd told her several times that we were meeting with our social worker for the final time last Tuesday, and what a big deal it was for us - that once we cleared that hurdle, we'd officially be okayed to adopt. Do you think I heard from her at all last week? No "good luck" call - no "how did it go?" call. Nothing. I did send out a group e-mail on Monday night to a lot of family and friends giving them the happy news that we were a "go" to be adoptive parents through the state. EM quickly sent back a two line e-mail about how happy she was for us. Still no call either Monday or Tuesday. Today however, she has called not once but TWICE. I haven't spoken with her - I'm not really angry - I'm just kind of "over it" for the moment.

When really good things are happening for me, she tends to withdraw. For example, she had an extremely hard time when I got engaged. (She is mid-40's, divorced 10+ years and very much wants to marry and have a family.) She was my maid of honor but was mostly checked out, even to the point of making arrangements with our mutual girlfriends behind my back to step in for her if she decided to back out of the wedding at the last minute. She actually tried to, three days before ("back pain") but by then I'd had enough and when I tried to replace her, she was suddenly able to come.

I forgave her for that long ago, but would be lying if I said that I'd ever be able to forget. She was the one dark spot during the most blissful time of my life. ANYHOO, I don't know if that same phenomenon is what has kept her MIA - if we're having a repeat of that behavior, or if she simply didn't remember/care. Either way I'm not in the mood to talk to her right now. I'm not one to hold a grudge or let bad feelings go on for any length of time so I'm sure I'll catch up with her in a couple of days, but in the meantime, I'll let my Vo*ice Me*ssaging do the chatting with her.

And now to the title of this post, this wonderful "bluebird day". That's what we Southerners call a day with a perfect blue sky. Seventy degrees, not one cloud, slight breeze, the smell of spring in the air. O & I spent the afternoon outside. He did his favorite thing - changing the oil/filters and sharpening the blades on his lawnmowers. A certain sign that spring is upon us. Lord how that man loves to mow the grass.

I was a bit more lazy - swinging in the hammock, getting lost in a good book, and looking around the yard making plans for this year's landscaping. Here's a peek . . .

View From the Hammock

Barney goes from Hunted to Hunter

 

 The mowers are ready! Let spring begin!

Oh the cuteness!

I could eat them with a spoon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OBlgSz8sSM

Premature Mommy Thoughts

We only finished our last home visit with the social worker less than a week ago and already I’m a worrying mom.

Ideally we believe that a child under the age of five will be the best fit for our family, but we are willing to consider a slightly older child if the right situation presents itself. Because of that, and the fact that once our paperwork makes it to the state D*C*F*S offices, we could be called fairly quickly (especially for an older child) I’ve already started thinking/ worrying about the schools in our area.

I am a complete freak about education. I loved school growing up and just devoured every book I could get my hands on. While I realize that a child coming into our home may not have that same intense love of learning, I want them to have the opportunity to have a great, well-rounded education. Because of where we live, our child would attend the county schools. My knee-jerk reaction to that is simply, “Ummm, no.” The stereotype in my head is that county schools are poorly funded and that fewer of their students attend college. I am working to find out if that’s actually true, but I’m going to have to be shown some pretty compelling evidence otherwise to change my mind.

So that leaves us with two options.

I think it would be possible to send our child to city schools ten miles in either direction. One city is considered to be one of the best school systems in this part of the state. It’s a growing community with many families moving into the area. I think that would make it easier for our child to fit in as a “new” student.

The other option is where my in-laws live and where my husband grew up and went to school. The problem? That town is, without a doubt, the cliquey-est town I have ever encountered.

People are perfectly nice but if you haven’t lived there twenty years and don’t go to the right church, you aren’t getting “in”. I’ve been here over four years and not one woman from there has ever reached out to me in friendship. My local friends are from other surrounding areas. So, I definitely have concern about sending a child into that situation. Perhaps because my husband is from there, and his parents are well known and well thought of in the community, our child would have an “in”, but I don’t know if I’m willing to take that chance.

I guess what started me thinking about all this was an event we attended on Saturday night. Our niece participated in the local high school beauty pageant. When we arrived, it was like every other event we go to in that town. My husband was greeting people left and right and I was holding his hand and tagging along behind him. Once we were seated, I just people watched for a while and was struck by how alone I still feel in that community. The best way I can describe it is like this: When my husband and I get together with his family, the conversation is quite often about people I don’t know, events I didn’t attend, places I’ve never been, story after story about “back in the day”. There is absolutely nothing for me to add – no place for me to get a foothold. (That doesn’t bother me as it once did. I love to sit back and watch O & his family tell their stories. It makes me happy because I love each one of them.) My experience with R'ville feels just like that, except on a grander scale. I guess if I'm being honest, it hurts my feelings.

O absolutely doesn’t get it, both because he’s from there and is "one of them", and because he’s a man and men interact differently. Men are SO not cliquey.

The plus side to the town is that it's a wonderful community that supports its' school events, sporting teams, etc . . . a great small town atmosphere, if you're on the inside.

Blah blah blah – I don’t know that this post even has a point. Just thinking “out loud”, I guess.

But the good news? Our niece won best freshman talent and interview, and is one of two class representatives on the court. Isn’t she beautiful? I can tell ya, I didn’t look like THAT when I was 15!

No Snow Cream For Us

So much for my day of building snowmen and making snow cream and generally frolicking in a winter wonderland. Half an inch of snow does not a winter wonderland make.

Believe it or not, it actually used to snow 'round these parts. It wasn’t often, but we’d usually get a couple of “snow days” each year. I would bounce around the house with barely-constrained excitement until my mom could scrounge up the appropriate winter clothing for me. Once outside, I would sled on “hills” that were barely more than an incline and I would make snowmen covered with dirt and leaves, but the highlight was always the snow cream. I’d be sent outside with a big plastic bowl with instructions to fill it up with clean snow and bring it back in to Mom, who was waiting to work her magic.

The basic recipe is:

1 cup milk
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 large bowl of snow (about 3 quarts)

Blend milk, sugar and vanilla. Stir in enough snow to make the mixture an ice cream consistency. Eat immediately, have sticky fingers, and be happy for hours.

Because people can’t leave well enough alone, there are now all sorts of variations using chocolate milk mix, fruit, heavy creams, even an egg for an eggnog taste. Just say no. There is nothing better than plain old snow cream. In fact, May*field Ice Cream has a snow cream flavor. They know what’s good.

But with a paltry half inch, no snow cream for us today. Stupid stupid weathermen!

Four Letter Word

The weather man said a 4-letter word this morning - a 4-letter word that sends otherwise sane and rational people in my part of the world into a milk-and-bread-buying frenzy. Yes, there is a possibility that we may get SNOW!

As a good Southern girl, I too made my required trip to the grocery store this afternoon and the shelves were already emptying in anticipation of tonight's storm. How much are we expecting, you may ask yourself?

One - two inches, and oh by the way, the expected temperature for Sunday is about sixty degrees so if we're snowed in, it shan't be for long. I'm just hoping to have enough to make snow cream! Mmmmmm!

Anyway, the most exciting news of the week by far was our final home study visit with the social worker, completed on Tuesday afternoon. These home visits have been so much easier than I'd anticipated. I think it helps that we really like and feel comfortable with our worker, and that she's an "old pro" at this, so she's not hyper vigilant like I'd imagine a first-time worker would be. We went through our home safety checklist and other than getting a letter from our local Gas Board stating that our unvented fireplace logs aren't leaking some dread noxious gas that will kill all of us, we are DONE! I can hardly believe it.

I first looked into the foster/adopt classes through the state last summer. It seemed as if there was one snafu after another getting registered. We were just days too late to sign up for one class, another was postponed and we never got a call letting us know when it was rescheduled even though I left six messages. Several surrounding counties weren't having classes until well into the new year. We attended an orientation in our county but we were the only ones there so the class was cancelled.

It felt so much like a continuation of all the fertility treatment shit. We'd get our hopes up that we could finally, finally just get STARTED only to have the rug pulled out from under us time after time.

But we did get started and now, six months later, we can finally see some light at the end of the tunnel. All that's left is for our worker to finish writing her report and submit it to the state, along with our foot-thick stack of paperwork and our scrapbook. Theoretically if that review goes okay, we'll be entered into the state's computer database and we will officially be an adoption resource for our state.

To be honest, there is a part of me that's waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for something to go wrong. I still half expect a phone call saying that there's been a mistake and they won't be able to process our application. I can see clearly that my fear of hope stems directly from the time I spent in the world of IF. Those experiences changed me, probably forever in some ways. But there is definitely some excitement and yes, some hope to balance out my fear. Those hopes keep me pushing forward, buying kids' books by the stacks and daydreaming about the day we get the GOOD call letting us know that there's a child who will be coming to our home to stay.

I have to go now. I have to figure out what to make with all this milk and bread. French toast anyone?