Monthly Archives: March 2013

Hippity, Hoppity


HamThis weekend the Nannykins, Papakins, Madre, Schnookie, Sister-In-Law and Nephy-Niece are coming for Easter. Originally we volunteered because our new house was such a nice place for everyone to meet and the G’parents hadn’t been up to see it yet. That and we were very excited to make our very own Easter dinner of whatever the heck we wanted. None of this slaving for hours in a hot kitchen for a large chunk of meat and some potatoes. Delicious and all but we wanted to do something that wouldn’t require so much time in the kitchen. We were going to go non-traditional with Indian Tacos or spaghetti & meatballs but then I got cornered by the Nannykins. In her kitchen. On her turf. The weekend she told me they were moving to a retirement community. She def had the advantage.

Nannykins: Honey, can I buy a ham for you to make on Easter?

Me: … uh … *visions of Indian Tacos dancing in my head*

Nannykins: I just love Schwabs hams and I just really want to buy this so we can have a really nice meal.

Me: … uh … ok. *visions of pigs STOMPING on my Indian Tacos*

Nanny: *big hug*

What could I have done? The woman is a mind sorcerer! So I waited a couple days and broke the news to Husbando who was a champ and took it well. He said at least we could make the sides our own and feel like we were still cooking for everyone at our new house. Until I go this call:

Nannykins: Honey, listen. Can I bring coleslaw for Easter?

Me: … uh … sure.

Nannykins: Oh and your mom is going to make scalloped potatoes. And I’m bringing the corn. Can I bring anything else? You need anything else? Am I being bossy? Am I taking over? Honey, you just tell me if I’m taking over.

Me: You’re taking over.

Nannykins: *laughter* Oh honey, I just love you. You’re so sweet. See you in a couple weeks! *click*

So I called Madre and was like oh my gosh mom Nanny is totally taking over Easter and why didn’t you tell her to chillax and she was all like yeah right she is my mama and I know better. Fast forward a couple weeks and the ham is delivered to me. Ham is not the right word really. Hog is the right word for this EIGHTEEN POINT ELEVEN POUNDS OF MEAT. Luckily we have a big roaster.

So at our first Easter we are in charge of rolls, deviled eggs and putting this hog in the oven. I think we can handle that : )






ImageDo you see these boots? Cutest thing of my life. Since I have a friend with a new-ish baby (and good sense of humor) I bought them for her. After I bought them and I sang this song for two days straight. Just ask anyone at work. Or Husbando. Or the people at Walgreens. Sometimes you just have a song stuck. And sometimes you just want to think about boots with the fur all day instead of grown-up things like work and bills. Very good possibility that was the case.

Currently we are waiting patiently (until tomorrow morning) to get our fingerprint cards and the schedule for our 27 hour training course. We’re not necessarily looking forward to the actual events but we are looking forward to moving forward as always.

Boots With The Furrrrr, The Furrrrr

Grown-up Sick Days


Sick Couch

I have never been one to use sick days. In fact, I think I have about 745 days saved up at my current job. I guess I’m just always afraid of missing something good! In fact, I never missed one class all through college, something I plan to use against my future children. But one day this week I found myself needing to use a day. Not in the I-sneezed-a-couple-times-therefore-I-must-watch-an-SVU-marathon kind of way but in the I-hope-I-don’t-lose-a-lung kind of way. At 7am I texted the boss lady and went back to the couch I had been dozing on since 3:15am. I turned on the tv for noise but then got completely obsessed with cleaning out the DVR. By 8am, I deleted almost everything I knew wouldn’t get me divorced and then was left with cable. Regular non-fast-forwardable cable? What are these three minute interruptions in my viewing pleasure? Four thousand channels and every one had commercials! I found myself really wishing for the old days.

Back in the day of elementary school I remember sick days being the BEST. THING. EVER. Mom would fix us up and nursemaid like a boss. When we were sick she put sheets on the couch and a tv tray next to it to hold our meds, phone, remote control, tissues, 7-up, etc. Trashcan for trash or… ya know… puke. Then everyone left and it was an entire day of Designing Women, Golden Girls, and Northern Exposure. No one called (or texted since it didn’t exist) because they didn’t want to wake you from a nap. The only thing you had to worry about was getting up to pee and since I have the bladder of a beluga whale, that meant only once, if at all.

Now in my old age (of 30) I find myself cruising the cablebox for things like Disney movies or episodes of Rob & Big. The tides have turned! I have to make my own meals, fix my own “sick couch”, pour my own 7-Up (not that we had any) and do we own a spare trashcan? I’ll give you one guess.

So in an attempt to make this blog have a point, I will relate it back to our poor future children. I hope you appreciate your future Nana for teaching your future Mama how to be one boss of a nursemaid. You better sit at home watching grown-up shows and sipping that bubbly  beverage while you can because eventually your bladder could shrink and you will find yourself disappointed that Sponge Bob is nowhere to be found on any of your 437 channels. Soak it up, kids. Soak it up.

They Called Our References!!


DISCLAIMER: I am so hyped up on cold meds that I can’t quit singing the Elephant Show song to Husbando. Its 11:55pm and he is snoring between verses. Rude. I also couldn’t stop typing so this post that I intended to leave at one paragraph turned into this novel. Sorry :/

Every job application I EVER filled out had me put references on it. I thought long and hard each time about who to choose, what they would say about how awesome I was and stupidly thought maybe one of them would be contacted. Never. Like… never, ever. Not one person I ever put on my very prestigious applications was ever called. Obviously that was because I was so very awesome in person, they didn’t care if I murdered anyone in my past.

Husbando and I thought long and hard about our six references for the adoption application. We needed six total and three were going to have to fill out a pretty intense worksheet (called a “letter” but really had questions with lines to answer- no fluff). Only one could be a relative. We went as far as asking other adoptive parents how they picked and who they thought we should pick. The advice kept coming back that it needed to be people close enough to know our daily life and also write a very articulate letter. Hmmm. Okay, we have some seriously awesome friends and some with seriously high levels of letter writing ability so surely we could come up with a good list. And we did. In fact, we had an overabundance of people offer and had to actually narrow the pool! Thank you again to everyone that offered! I, myself, would like to have all 38 letters to submit but sadly, there were only six spaces. We chose two people who knew us together the same amount of time, two who know me best and two who know Husbando very close. So references selected, addresses gathered, info submitted.

Home visit day comes and when reviewing the application with Phoebe, I ask when we designate what three references we want to be the letter writers. She says no need for that because DHS just calls them now. What?! Okay, when do I tell you what three we want for that? She says they call all six. WHAT?! This was not in the plan!  Call them if you want to ruin my perception of how this goes! I’ve already decided what stationary everyone will use and now you are taking that away from me?! Ugh.

Fast forward to Friday around 4:30pm when I am in my office getting ready for the weekend working my butt off. Reference #1 walks out of the restroom and into my office area, to show me the latest pics of her adorable baby  discuss very important work-related business. Mid-stride her phone vibrates and she answers it. “Hello?… Yes… Yes…*looks at me wide-eyed and mouths D-H-S then turns to go to her own office*… Uh huh… Yes…” I text Husbando as fast as my fingers will move and tell him they called. He does not immediately respond. Dang it! Reference #2 is off work so I text #3 and #4 to give them a heads up. Both reply and say no one has called yet. One of them is my ace in the hole! I helped keep her five kids alive and darn it, DHS needs to know they turned out mostly fine. Mostly. Husbando texts back and says that Reference #5 just called to say they interviewed her and it went well. Reference #1 is back to my desk to report and Reference #6 texted Mother-In-Love and let her know they called him too.

Okay, so in the event you kept reading through all that, thank you and I owe you a drink. The moral is that it was a frantic text-storm of curiosity trying to find out what they asked, how it went, etc. From everyone’s report, it went great. They told them we have a good support system, a good relationship and a good home for kids. Better than any stationary I could have picked I guess. Another step done and I am really getting to like this sigh of relief feeling 😀


Hoarders Hoarders HOARDERS!



Every time Husbando is away (or I grab the remote fast enough), I watch a marathon of Hoarders. I am completely fascinated with the show, the people, the things they find, the reason they do it, the ridiculous way A&E keeps you coming back through commercials… everything. Why you ask? Because just like cruising WebMD, I just know I am one.

Examples include:


These people feel overwhelmed, sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Mostly when I have two pairs of shoes on the floor in my closet.

These people lose hope, sometimes I lose hope. I have given up hope of ever finding the perfect way to organize my spice cabinet.

These people get lazy and give up, sometimes I get lazy and give up. I often put recyclable items into the trashcan on accident and am too lazy to dig through to get it out.

These people have a lot of clothes, I have a lot of clothes. I just tend to leave them on hangers, not on the floor covered in puppy poopoo.

I could watch this show for days straight if there were enough new episodes. If you haven’t watched it before, and you have a strong stomach, I suggest you sit through an episode or two. Each episode has at one or two people and their cleanup story complete with psychologist and clean-up team. Most of the time they are success stories by the second day and the house looks great at the end of the show. Rarely they are hopeless and won’t ever give anything up. There is always fighting, a therapy session or two, gag-worthy moments and hidden treasures. It is fascinating to say the least. I think one reason I like it so much is because it makes me feel like I have my life together at least better than the 3 million hoarders in the world. Small victories.

They Came, We Conquered


For all my three followers (I know… I’m up to three!!) I wanted to send an update from our DHS visit today. Just like everyone told me a million times, there was nothing to worry about. It took exactly an hour and I feel GREAT about where we go from here. We submitted all the paperwork and she said we should be approved to adopt in 60 days. SIXTY DAYS?!


Once we are approved, we are good to go at any time. First of many things I learned: The caseworkers of all Oklahoma meet in Norman once a month to review cases of all available children. If they think they have a good “Resource” (foster or adoptive parent/family) then they snag the child(ren)’s file and bring it back to us for a look-see. We have two weeks to review it and decide if they could be a good match for us. If so, we have a few play dates in public, then one full-day home visit and then one weekend visit. If we want to proceed after that the kids move in and we start our six month pre-adoption time period. After that six months, we go to court and they are ours forever! 

Another thing I learned is that all DHS children get free healthcare until 18 even after they are in a permanent home. Nice.

Next, if kids are adopted past a certain age (most likely 16) their college tuition is covered to state schools. Nice.

Lastly, I found out DHS pays for our adoption attorney fees. No out of pocket for that either!  Nice.

So after she talked us through the entire big process, it was time to look around the house. I knew Phoebe* wasn’t going to inspect my house with a white glove but I at least thought there would be a look in a closet. Or the garage. Or the backyard. Nope. Took less than 30 seconds to show her around. Which was awesome since I didn’t finish bleaching my grout but slightly disappointing that she didn’t notice my alphabetized canned goods. Oh well, maybe someone else will notice. 

So it was a great time and Phoebe could not have been more informative or helpful. She was very honest and I really think she set us up for a positive and realistic journey.  Thank you for all your prayers and kind words over the past few weeks. We really appreciate everyone who supports us!


*name has been changed to protect their privacy… or because I don’t remember it.

Home Visit & Hot Flashes


Whew! Is it approximately 167 degrees in here? I’m sweating like… well… I probably shouldn’t use any of those examples here but I am sweating. Could be because I’m sick as a dog or could be because our homestudy is tomorrow. Yikes! Tomorrow? You mean like less than 24 hours? Dang. No time left to paint that portrait of Husbando and I to put over the fireplace. No time to level each blade of grass, and no time to alphabetize my canned goods. I did, however, get up an hour early this morning and install the toiletpaper rod in my bathroom. Because, you know, the caseworker will totally be judging our ability to take care of children by the amount of new hardware in my bathroom.Image

Want to know something funny? I have been working on the shape/placement of our photo collage wall and totally forgot about actually putting our photos in them. Last night Husbando asked when I was going to fill them. *crickets chirping* “Can’t we just pretend we know them?” So we are going to pretend we know them. Man we have some good looking relatives!

I am ridiculously nervous about tomorrow and not in a they’re-gonna-find-something-wrong way but in a oh-my-gosh-this-is-really-happening kind of way. Madre compared it to the first trip to the OBGYN when you’re pregnant. Stuff gettin’ real again, y’all.

Hef n’ Lumps came over and entertained me while I cleaned up the craft room so shoutout to them for keeping my mind somewhere else tonight. I’ve only taken a half day off tomorrow so I can focus on the large tasks I have at work and not bleaching my grout. Husbando took the whole day and hopefully won’t burn the place down before I can get home. Wish us luck!!