Monthly Archives: May 2014


I do not know what happened to the post I posted last night. I know you three followers got the email but the post is lost. Sorry for any confusion :/

I write it with a very heavy heart but in hopes to explain our situation to everyone at once so the texts/emails/messages will slow down enough for me to get myself together. We went to the DHS Office yesterday and had a very loooong two-hour disclosure meeting. In that meeting we immediately knew that Single Rider was not the one for us. There is no doubt in my mind but that does not make the aching in my chest stop.

You may remember that I said there would have to be something pretty big for me to feel like this wouldn’t work. Guess God knew He had to thump me on the head pretty hard so consider me concussed. Our biggest battle was the timeline not allowing us the time to find out if we were able to give her what she needs. We were told ‘you have six weeks till finalization because she will be 18 in July’ and that was the tip of the iceberg. Maybe if we had the typical 6-8 months we would give it a trial run but I just don’t think a month is fair to anyone involved in this particular case.

Many people, even my mom, have asked why and unfortunately we can’t tell you. Not only did we sign forms saying its all confidential but we decided as a couple that we were going to be playing our cards a little closer to the chest on this one. We don’t want to re-live what we read, we don’t want to cry for her more than we already are and quite frankly, its none of anyone’s business. We made a decision and we know it was the right one so lets just all trust us.

Where does that leave us? It leaves us over at the beginning. Well not all the way over, just leaves us on the list again waiting for another match. Do I worry how we will look to DHS? Maybe a little. But I guarantee they would rather us be honest than have a failed placement. I woke up feeling good this morning that we were making the right choice for our life. I emailed the worker (no response yet) and politely said thanks but no thanks on this opportunity. We will be going back to the office soon to look at more kiddos and I pray that the guilt subsides sooner rather than later.

Thanks to everyone who is praying and I know its a lot of you!

Consider Me Concussed


This Is NOT A Drill


You guys, this is NOT a drill.

Today we got the email that says we’re approved to adopt Single Rider!!

OMG. Is that a tear?! Of course it is because we could be parents. Like real parents. She met those other people and still liked us best? We must really look good on paper : )

We just have to go down to the DHS office and have a disclosure meeting. Thats where we get to ask anything we want and they have to tell us (or find out if they don’t know). Its her worker, our worker, and us. We get to go over court dockets, medical records, school files, everything they have. They will also call the foster parents, counselor and other officials and tell them it is ok to answer all of our questions. We get to know it all y’all.

I’ve made a list of questions but honestly, I haven’t been able to think of anything big enough that would come out and make us change our minds. At least that is what I’m choosing to believe.

The meeting is Monday at 10am. Heres hoping I don’t nest myself to death between now and then. Tonight I went shopping for fruits and veggies then came home and did laundry and made tabouli. Tomorrow I guess I’ll clean out her closet and straighten up the craft room. Where we can scrapbook. Together. Forever. Oh goodness, where did I put that tissue? Who is cutting onions?!


Oh, also, Happy Birthday Schnookie. Hope unclehood counts as a gift…




Mother’s Day Drama



Mother’s Day is a joyous day for moms to be celebrated, right? Macaroni art, homemade cards, mani/pedi gift certificates, crappy, cold eggs and burnt toast in bed. While some moms dread cleaning up that mess, other will give anything for it. Adoption changes everything. So does infertility and so does just not having kids. To be honest, I sat in a room of my family with three other moms and fought back tears while I watched them open cheesy cards and gifts from the people that appreciate them. Adoption makes it very difficult to celebrate like others celebrate. I know we chose this path and I know I shouldn’t complain about what we bring on ourselves but it didn’t make those feelings any less real.

Adoption changes birthdays too. I LOVE celebrating birthdays but from what I hear from other adoptresses, there is a chance that the nagging feeling in my chest that day will be my heart aching for both my child and their birthmother that are not together to celebrate their accomplishment of the child’s entrance into the world. Obviously I’m not always “most women” so maybe that will never cross my mind but for many it apparently does.

The flip side is that we get some bonus holidays, I guess. Even if we don’t go all-out I will probably always remember the day they move in or our court date where they become our forever family. Heck, we may even have a name-changing party! My point is that from now on I am going to try to make sure I am conscious of the others around me that are urning to be a mom but are not and be sensitive not to assume anything about anyone at the holidays.

Nesting Away


While Husbando works at night, I have been nesting away at the house. I have been quite comfy to take up every inch of our 1,880 square foot house with my own belongings and now I need to make some room. I also need to do spring cleaning because there are still boxes we haven’t unpacked from when Madre AND Nannykins & Papakins moved out of their houses within months of each other. Not knowing what kids we will have has made it tough to plan. Do we need toys people are very willing to offer? Do we need a highchair someone is giving away? How about a kiddy pool? People are so generous that we like to accept all help that is given to us but now we are left with a garage full of things we need to sort and either garage sale or put to use.

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Just this last week Wal*Mart had a flash sale (think Blue Light Special) every night just inside the front doors. Random palettes of deep-discounted merch that they needed to move to make more room in the supply room. Nothing about to expire (because I checked it all) just stuff that generally took up too much room. Our prized find? Family-size boxes of Pop-Tarts for just $1. Also we found canned veggies, Pringles, Betty Crocker potato side dishes, family-size boxes of Gushers & Fruit Roll-Ups, cans of Planters peanuts, tortilla chips, and much more. I figured we could eat what we want and give the rest away. In fact, just tonight I filled a bag for my friend who has a two-year-old and one on the way. I really do believe helping, even in little ways like that, is good karma. People help us all the time so how could I not pass that along?

Back to the point. When I showed up at home with 20 boxes of Pop-Tarts, Husbando said two things: 1.You look like one of those ‘Extreme Couponers’ and 2. Where are you going to put all that?! Oh Husbando of little faith. I got all that in our pantry that appeared to already be full. I got rid of four canned goods that were expired and replaced it with 745 new items. That may be a small exaggeration. I also cleaned out and re-organized four other kitchen cabinets. I started going through the ‘purse closet’ (AKA future kid room closet) and getting rid of anything I thought I could live without. I re-organized my linen closet and purchased a few extra kid-friendly towels. Bath sheets are not for the tiny. I organized under the bathroom skink. By the way, no one buy me soap, bath gel, or lotion for the next 26 years because trust me, I’m good.

I love feeling like I am cleaning for someone. Like I have to do this so *insert fictitious child(ren)* will have room for their stuff. I love that I have a home to clean at all and that very soon we could be living the American dream and filling up this house with people and laughter. Oh boy I hope…



This blog was started months ago but I just couldn’t bring myself to work on it. I have finally done it and am happy to share it with you now. Grab a tissue.


Today my family is putting my Papa, best friend, and my #1 wonderful male role-model into a senior care facility. It has been coming for several exhausting years but for the sake of my grandmother, it is finally time. I’ve been a hot mess for a solid 24 hours and as many people with memory-challenged family can confirm, it won’t get better but probably worse. I’ve slowly accepted that Papa no longer knows my name (not that he ever called me it once in my life) or recognizes me when I walk in his home. I’ve also accepted that our traditions will all be different now. No watching the Macy’s Day  Parade on Thanksgiving. No watching Bonanza and eating ice cream together. No football games, rides in the car, egg and cheese biscuits, nothing. Only short visits and hoping he is in a good mood. I will have to rely on all our happy memories to get me through I suppose. To be honest, it feels like he is already gone in spirit and is just waiting on his body to get the memo.

I’ve worked at an assisted living center and never once did anyone ever get to go home. I know this is permanent and I also know he will probably decline quickly. Without the typical stimulation and personal interaction he would get at home, the mind dwindles. Nothing unusual, that is just a fact of life. I am sad to see him moving away from his wife of over 60 years and my nephew that he loves watching play. I am sad he won’t be sitting in his chair when I arrive with the children we will have. My biggest hurdle is that he will not be the wonderful role model that he was to me to my own children. It will be hard but his legacy will definitely live on through the stories and pictures that are some of my most prized possessions.

Update: I’ve visited Papa several times since he moved into the Veteran Center. As I suspected, he has gotten worse and I always find him catatonic staring at a wall. I can’t even begin to explain to you how much I want this to all end. This is not the man that I know. He is not the man that took me to parades, played dress-up with me or took me for driving lessons. This is a shell of a person that I push up to the dining hall and I can’t help but wonder if he can hear me. Can he hear me and his body won’t allow him to respond right or can he not understand me at all? I’m going to continue to pretend he can hear me but in all honesty, I think his mind is just longing for home. I know I sure would! My comfort is that he will save me a good spot in the choir because boy did he like to sing.

If I Could Turn Back Tiiiiaaaaaommm


If I could turn back some time, I would go see Cher 15 years ago when I was in high school. Since I can’t, I went recently to her fourth (or is it fifth) farewell tour. It was FANTASTIC! Our seats were at the front of the top bowl and we were surrounded by lesbian couples. When I say surrounded, I mean like Husbando was seriously the only guy within 4 rows. I love to people-watch so by the end I had deduced that every single couple was indeed a couple and not half of them sisters/friends like I originally assumed. Where were all the gay guys? They were taking up the entire floor section. Guess women are more practical with their spending. No shock there.

But then Husbando almost got us kicked out of the concert.

Cher’s very unique and distinct voice came over the loudspeaker saying she would be out in a while, can’t wait to have fun, blah blah blah. Everyone shouts in excitement then it gets quiet again. Husbando turns to me and actually has the guts to ask OUT LOUD who that was. He didn’t even ask it quietly! I just looked at him silently for a solid 20 seconds with my eyes wide and lower jaw in my lap. The nice couple in front of us AND beside him all four turned around and stared at me because I was obviously responsible for this. I just looked at all of them with my mouth still open until one said ‘Did he really just ask that?’ I tried to act like he was joking. I looked at him and give him a look that indicated he BETTER pretend he was or these angry women who worship Cher were going to kill us both. After that he tried (and failed) to pretend he just didn’t realize it was her because of the acoustics. Bless that man’s heart.

Luckily  no one shanked him and we were able to enjoy the concert in peace. It really was magical and I can’t imagine it could have been any better way back in high school so I don’t think I missed out on anything. Aren’t Bucket List checks the best?!