I believe I’ve mentioned previously that I am a ‘planner’. Not just like a whats-for-dinner kind of planner but like a outfits-for-a-week, I-need-a-months-warning for everything, and the calendar-is-filled-out-a-year-ahead type of planner. Everyone in my life tells me that the planning is a positive and that it keeps our family going but at what expense? If I plan something and then it doesn’t go as planned its frustrating. If I plan something and somebody doesn’t like the plan, thats frustrating too. If you ask someone to plan something without you and they are physiologically unable to make a plan to save their life, you’ll want to stab your own eye out. Its a fundamental difference in people and no matter how many times I am told ‘just do your own thing and don’t worry about it’, I WILL CONTINUE TO WORRY ABOUT IT.
One of the most embarrassing and infuriating parts to this is that people will say to me ‘we should get together’ or ‘we should do this again’ and I immediately pull out my calendar to look at available times. Then, they look at me puzzled and say they’ll call or text me. As if I’m a desperate freak for wanting to make sure they get time in my life. Listen, I’m trying to stay connected, make the same effort! I get that things can come up but at least make the plan and then cancel if need be.
What is the point of this story? There isn’t one. I’m just venting on the fact that I am increasingly considering going to live on a commune somewhere except all I can do is make a mental packing list of what I would need to pack to be successful at a commune. Will I want to bring more sundresses or hemp sandals? Should I pack the kids a towel? Do you see my struggle?! It is constant.
So in the future, when dealing with me, please know that I already know this about myself and am aware that I am doing it. Further, please be aware of yourself and know that your actions (or inactions) will lead to very predictable outcomes that are not fun for either of us. Just because you can live without knowing what you’re doing this weekend doesn’t mean you should. Go ahead, try it out. See how it feels to have everything organized and be prepared. No last-minute scramble. No oh-I-forgot-blah-blah-blah. No added stress on your friends/family members.
For the love of Pete, lets have a planning revolution where its cool to be responsible!
I’ve said before that when adoption has a positive, I cling to it like a fat kid to a cupcake. Okay, I haven’t said it quite like that before but I could really use a cupcake this morning. Anyway, I found another positive to the adoption process… name changing for the win! The day of the adoption finalization the kids get to change their names. Not only do they get to change their last name to match ours but they also get to change/switch/delete/add any other names at the same time. This really made the kids excited and boy did their creative juices start flowing.
Miss D tried on Ashley, Sarah, Abi, and several other popular names because she was ‘tired of hearing her names in church’. Ultimately she decided to keep them but add a middle name. This is where the fun starts… Lady H was insistent that Diamond would be her new first name. Once vetoed due to its stripper-like nature, she decided it would be her middle name. When Husbando vetoed that, she just couldn’t decide what to do so she asked me what my middle name is. I asked her if she wanted it and she said she wanted to use Sparkle instead. Fast forward a few days when we are talking about names again. The girls have now both decided to keep their first and middle names but add another middle name. Miss D asks me if she can use my middle name with her middle name and I said sure. Fast forward a few more days and Lady H comes back and says she wants to take me up on the offer to use mine. I explain that she can but her younger sister already decided to use it and that would mean they would both have it as their second middle name. This didn’t seem to bother them a bit but it definitely struck me as odd. I mean, I want them both to have a piece of my name but I also think its weird to name your kid like George Foreman. I let them sit on it and I have too but they haven’t wavered from that decision for a second. Even the day we had to email the attorney our final draft I pushed it an they didn’t budge. So we have two girls with two middle names that both happen to be my middle name. I’m still marinading that.
Agent K was a whole different story. We went round and round with him wanting to change his first name. The way he was talking about the name stuff had me concerned so one night I asked him why it was so important for him to lose his first name. He previously made comments about hating his name because no one pronounces it correctly and that it would be fine if he was Hawaiian but he is not Hawaiian. I asked if that was true or really he wanted a fresh start because his birthmother gave it to him. He didn’t answer my question but promised to think it over. After about a week he started up again. He kept pushing for Kevin (for Kevin Durant) and Michael (for Michael Jordan). I explained to him that those names were fine but naming yourself after an athlete was ridiculous. Further, Kevin Durant isn’t a legend and (hopefully) we can all forget about him in a few years. Michael holds several bad memories/feelings for me so it was out too. After I crushed that dream he decided on a middle name that happens to be the name of both a Ninja Turtle, and Agent K’s favorite artist. He said he is going to try to get everyone to call him this if we ever move so we agreed as long as he kept (and let us use) his first name.
It kind of sounds like we didn’t give them much of an option at all but I assure you all reasonable request were evaluated. Problem is, with our crazy kids, nothing is ever reasonable. No Sparkles or nasty ex-boyfriends allowed apparently! But with all this decided we are ready to roll and that is the best part. I remember how excited I was to take on my husband’s last name so that we felt like family and now I am excited for our kids to get to do the same.
… a day which will go down in infamy. We finally got our finalization date so with our ridiculous visit last night and our fighting with them about Miss D’s ear tube surgery, I am SO ready to be done with these DHS people! I am ready to stop living under their schedule, their rules, and their absolutely ridiculous timeline. No, you cannot require me to take off any more work. No, you cannot pull my driving records for a sixth time, wasting my own tax money. Lastly, no, you cannot treat me like a common criminal instead of the loving potential parent I’m trying to be. I’m SO done with you suckers! You know, until its time to do this all over again…
But seriously, we did get our court date and are sitting on go. Even the kids are tired of talking about it and are ready to DO this. We’ve had this mystery countdown going long enough and its time to legally be the family we know we are. We’ve invited everyone and their dog to the courthouse and lunch and we are excited so many people want to come to participate in this. I hear its a lot of waiting then a fifteen minute court proceeding followed by five minutes of pictures. You better believe I’m prepping our support staff with a photography lesson because for once, I won’t be the one behind the camera. In fact, we are having our first official family photos made in the next couple weeks to celebrate the occasion. A friend from high school is going to take the pics and I can’t wait! I don’t remember ever having family photos made (not sure one of the four of us even exists) so this is super special to me.
We are so blessed to have gotten the three best kids in the world and in the best way possible. We know this process taught us a lot and continues to every day. Plus, I didn’t get any stretch marks (at least not from pregnancy) and there were no hospital bills! Really, its just such a blessing that I was able to fulfill my life’s destiny that God put in my heart so many years ago. Throughout my entire life I have often thought to myself ‘are You sure about this, God’, but I was persistent and so was His favor so I really feel like I’ve done something I was born to do. I feel that in my bones and that contentment is like nothing of this world. I hope you get to feel that one day.
I have a banquet room to reserve ; )
The longer I am a working mother, the harder I feel it in my guts that I want to be a stay-at-home mother. I know with our life and circumstances that I will most likely continue to be a working mother but it doesn’t make me want it any less. I know my stay-at-home friends may think I’m nuts because we all want what we don’t have but I swear I would trade my work wardrobe for the option of wearing jeans on a Tuesday, even if I got kid snot on them. I would trade the adult interactions for listening to SpongeBob while I sort laundry. I would even switch my sub sandwich for Vienna sausages and Gogurt if I absolutely had to.
I look at my house and wonder how there is constantly so much to do. I have at least six projects I want to work on but every evening after baths, laundry, kitchen cleanup and general chores, I’m just not in the mood. Welcome to parenthood, I know, but it doesn’t make me want that time any less. I haven’t scrapbooked in almost 7 months except last Saturday when I had the pleasure of teaching Lady H to use her scrapbook kit several months after she received it as a gift. If you know me at all, you know those comments are seriously disturbing. I need to be creative. I need to have time to create things with my hands. I was bummed last month when I, oh I mean the kids, didn’t get to decorate boxes for their Valentines parties. I NEED TO GLUE SOMETHING GLITTERY TO SOMETHING PINK RIGHT NOW OR I WILL DIE!!
I also want to do things like re-organize all the closets and go to the magical land of IKEA for ideas on how to store our belongings cuter/better. I would love to be able to actually sort the laundry into different piles before shoving the barrel full. This shirt was always blue-ish, right? Man, that sounds so nice but I feel like such a loser saying it. I’m 32 years old and all I want to do is laundry on a Monday morning, not an Excel spreadsheet. *Sigh* I guess I’m just venting and hoping if there are any rich people out there that want to make this happen, they will find it in their heart to pay me to tutor my own kid with her times tables or to clean out the condiment shelf in my refrigerator. Please leave your name and bank routing number in the comments because I will DEF be in touch ; )
Agent K’s foster dad was a single older man that seemed to have nothing against us except that he was disappointed Agent K was leaving. For a long time it was just the two of them and he deeply cared for our son. We are very grateful for the things he did but we haven’t met him in person. Lady H and Miss D were in an older couple’s home and that couple refused to meet us or put a drop of effort into the kids finding a forever home together. They were unhelpful, uncooperative, and vindictive to our daughters and for that I will not forgive them. They impeded the transition process and we are still paying for their actions.
I have a real problem with several things the girls’ foster parents did. I have evaluated my feelings more than once and talked them out with Husbando. We came to the conclusion we are not being nasty adoptive parents, they are just nasty foster parents. Big shock, right? I don’t hate them because they loved my kids first because I appreciate Agent K’s foster dad for doing just that. He loved him like his own and in fact, I’m entertaining the idea of inviting him to the finalization court proceedings because I want to meet and thank him and allow him to see what he helped create.
I feel like the couple used the girls for income and cute accessories for them to parade around at church. The girls were dressed up in fancy dresses and shoes for church but ratty clothes and shoes that didn’t fit for school and visits with us. Before we were even done with our mandatory visits, the couple had moved another little girl (and her $900 paycheck) into the house. According to my girls, the couple kept most of their books, toys (including their bikes that were Christmas gifts to them), personal products, and clothes for her use. I feel like anything you buy for them with that $1800/month you were given should have been sent with them. Its all they had in the world and they were cheated out of it. This Mama Bear doesn’t appreciate it.
The nasty couple refused to allow us to come to their house to pick up and drop off the kids. Once when the girls called them a couple months after moving in and asked again if we could come pick up their bikes, the foster mother claimed that the new little girls were using the bikes and ruined them so we simply could not come get them. They were devastated. Who does that?! Their aunt and uncle hooked them up at Christmas but that is not the point. I just don’t like them.
The kids had Valentine’s Day photos taken and then I made up homemade cards with the wallet-sized pics attached. There were about 16 and they went to our closest friends and family. Against what I wanted to do, I sent both foster parents a Valentine. I chickened out at Christmas and didn’t send them a card. Our address was on the envelopes and I wasn’t prepared to give them that information. I don’t think for a second they would use the information to actually contact them, but may sell the info to someone if they came knocking on their door.
Anyway, the card obviously made it to them because we got a valentine card back (addressed to us, not the kids) and another envelope with some pics in it of the girls. They are out of focus and obviously candid but the thought was there. I’m taking it as an olive branch and I’ll send them the Easter pic we have made in hopes of getting more cherished photos from before they knew us. Those are as good as gold in my book. I’ll keep you updated…