Thursday, April 16, 2009


Last Monday we went to our Orientation to be adoptive parents. We sat for two hours and listened to the paperwork, the steps involved, the fact that we can't give them back. (Oh RLY?)

We talked on sibling groups, and how hard they can be to place (they had one with 10 kids - TEN!?). The presenter even told a story about a family who had no children and took in five. Somehow, that seems impossible - we're looking at taking a pair of two, and I'm frightened we won't be able to handle the two. We have such a quiet life - we're like nerdy monks - we might play video games and not talk for hours.

The orientation was not torture. It was not even difficult, except that I felt like I might slide off my chair at any point. Damn plastic things! Considering all the essays I've had to write lately for jobs, the paperwork was a piece of cake. We haven't done the hard part yet, but the first bit wasn't so bad.

However: how the heck do you tell if your water heater is on 120 degree or less if it doesn't have any freaking temperature markings? I'm going to scald my children to death in the bathtub because I don't know how to adjust the stupid water heater! Am I really supposed to get a thermometer I'd stick in my mouth and test the water from the tap? Seriously? That seems so...unscientific.

Sunday, April 5, 2009


I feel just sick. We may lose our chance at the kids. Because of this damned recession, they're cutting people where I work, and I am one of them.

I don't know how to tell any one. Several have suggested fostering the kids, but even with the money the state will provide, we would struggle terribly caring for them - caring for ourselves. I doubt, in this position, we'd even be approved to foster.

I'm in an industry where layoffs are fairly uncommon, and so this is not expected. I chose this industry partly because it was a place where I'd be able to get and keep a job, and here I am without one again.

I suppose it's better; it's very early in our process, and we've only met them once. That really doesn't make me feel better.

I just feel sick and sad.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Trial by fire.

Last Sunday, my husband and I met our prospective kids.

Here's what I honestly expected: we'd play, we'd have fun, I'd love them instantly, and we'd know for sure this is what we wanted - to adopt these two beautiful children.

Here's what really happened: The kids walked into the door. They were smaller than I thought they'd be. That's no problem, I thought - I really can raise these kids! Then they were set loose. My husband I ran in circles, got dizzy, fell down, painted the house black, everything else that happens when you're with a five year old and a three year old. I was actually sore the next day from turning cartwheels with the children. They were so DEMANDING. Literally, "get me some juice!"; "get me candy!" "paint this bedroom wall pink for me!"

The little girl was lovely, but it was clear she felt a little starved for attention. Her little brother steals the show with his loudness, his antics, and his massive tantrums. My husband and I got separated several times by the kids, so it became not so much "family" time as "play with one kid and then trade" time.

The boy...poor kid didn't get his nap. We had no idea he even missed his nap, but we found out the true results! His head exploded about four times over the course of the afternoon, and the brains made a terrible mess. Seriously, I felt like I was torturing this child when I put him in time out for being disobedient (once because he ran straight for the road when we were outside playing). He screamed. This child is part banshee; I'm sure of it.

They went home after four hours. Four short hours.

I've spent the following week wallowing in despair. I have doubts, and I feel guilty about them.
I have doubts that I can handle two kids all the time. I have doubts that I want to. I have never valued quiet in my house so much in my life. I begin to doubt wanting children at all.

Then I think about flying a kite with them, or taking them to the park, or how my girl laughed when I sang to her about Bob the Tomato (thanks, Veggie Tales!). I'm told I wouldn't be making a responsible decision if I had no doubts. I guess then, I'm being responsible. I don't like, it, though.