April 29, 2007

“Don’t Believe Everything You Think”I love this sticker. I love the girl who was driving this car with the sticker upon it, even though she drives a Ford.

Bumper Stickers are hard. We personally don’t condone bumper stickers on our own vehicles, however, we love love love to judge people by the bumper stickers on their vehicles. It’s so awesome. You don’t even have to bother with getting to know them, they have provided a Reader’s Digest version of themselves on their bumper for the whole world to see. Here is me. This is me summed up in a sticker.

Do I feel bad cutting this person off? No! They work for God, they clearly won’t mind.

Do I feel bad cutting this person off? No! They have 4 honor roll kids. They’re fine.

Should I let this person in? I don’t think so, his truck says “Speak English A**hole!”Should I let this person in? They have Showdogs on board, somehow that is very annoying, therefore No.

What about this guy? Should I let you in? What does your bumper say? Who Would Jesus Bomb?! Come on in my friend, welcome to my lane.

You want in too? Who are you? Tell me about yourself. Yorkies? That’s it? That’s all that you are passionate about? Yorkies? No. Not good enough. Not good enough for my lane, not here, not now.

May I help you? Oh you want in my lane? Well, your car says you’re tired of pressing 1 for English. Sorry. Go find truck guy.

And you? You recycle……… okay fine, whatever, you can come in.

Oh and you can all be as Recyclicy and Peacy and Global Warmingy and Jesusy as you want but if you don’t give me that little wave when I let you in, it’s on.

My most favorite picture of Mike with his Dad and brothers lined up in chronological order.

April 26, 2007

Well, after much agonizing and stressing and pulling of hair, we FINALLY decided on where we are going to Vaca this summer. Actually, I should say that I finally settled on a vacation destination, Mike gave 2 big thumbs up for every suggestion made along the way. And I do mean 2 Big. Thumbs. Up. - Those are some meaty, fleshy nubs on some masculine, rugged hands my friends.

The fact that I was overly panicked about picking a vacation destination should indicate the level of stress I have been operating on as of late. If no one is around to pick a fight with, I pick fights with myself.

I have been nothing short of phenomenal in the ways of tactical un-triggered explosions. Totally unprovoked sneak-attacks.

“You made Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches instead of Ham Sandwiches!”

“The house stinks! Why does the house stink?!!”

“The sun is too shiney today! I can’t just have the sun shining right on me like this!”

“Help me write a letter to our Congressman! This is important! We need to write him TODAY!”

“Whatever happened with that tool thingamajiggy that you lent to your friend?! Did you ever get that back!”

and then lately it’s been

“A Vacation!?!? I have to plan a vacation! uuuuhhhrgggghh.”

Luckily I have a husband who is all, “Um, Is my Wife in there? Jamie, are you in there?” and I usually calm down somewhat after he has injected liquefied chocolate chip granola bars into my bloodstream.

So, after a day or two of walking through each task on our to-do list by taking itty bitty baby steps, Mike helped me trade in our car, decide on an adoption agency and pick our vacation destination. Isn’t he cute?

We are going to Washington DC!

It’s perfect! And I have no idea why I immediately shot it down when Mike brought it up 5 days ago but when I brought it up later as MY IDEA - it was GENIUS!

So, I am frothing at the mouth at the thought of staying here:

Or maybe here:

And going to say hey to him:

And him: (You don’t think he’d mind if I brought along a translator for our chit chat, do you? A translator that translates Incoherentese?)
And reenacting the scene from Forrest Gump here:
And pondering the affects of decisions made here:
All in all, I am really looking forward to our Holiday. It is good timing for me, I have been rather dumpy about our Country lately. I have been sad and disappointed and confused and angry at our Country lately and the people who run it. I really do think it will be good for me to be in our Nation’s Capital and take it all in. I am hoping it will remind me of how great we have been, how great we are now and how great we could be. I am hoping I will come back with a new found pride again, because really, the gun violence, the war and the discrimination are weighing heavy on my mind. I need to sometimes be reminded of what my husband risks his life for, you know? So, here we go! Here’s hoping I’ll come home and stop nagging Mike to let us move to New Zealand (not joking).

April 23, 2007

So, Baby Fugee broke his arm.

Behold Baby Fugee with a pink cast (as if I didn’t already have issues with him being a boy and wearing pink and purple all the time):

We went over to the Fugee house the other day to take them out for our weekly American Extravaganza which so far has included A MOVIE! A TRIP TO THE GROCERY STORE! A TRIP TO THE ACCOUNTANT! McDONALDS! TACO BELL! DRIVING INSTRUCTIONS IN A MORMON CHURCH PARKING LOT! and THE ZOO! Pretty ingenious and exciting tour guides aren’t we? Low expectations people, that’s our motto.

Really, the movie trip and the driving instructional hour deserve their own detailed posts, except to say that the Fugees now believe everyone wears 3-D glasses when going to movies since their very first movie experience happened to be a 3-D cartoon AND our car now makes a strange squeaking noise ever since Mama Fugee FLOORED IT, drag race style, DIRECTLY INTO A CURB. Yeah. I had a brief moment there where I seriously reconsidered doing volunteer charitable-type work anymore.

So, where was I, oh right, Baby Fugee’s arm.

We get to their house, they welcome us in as usual, we chat for awhile, go over some bills, tell some funny stories and then load up into the car. As Mama Fugee is loading Baby Fugee into Delaney’s old car seat, Baby Fugee belts out a mortifying wail. We all look a little alarmed.

Then Mama Fugee goes, “oh yes, one thing, please? Baby Fugee arm - mmmm, not so so good.”

Mike, my incredibly sexy Nursing Student Husband, sprang into action and sussed out the arm situation. Mike’s report was not good. There was a Massive inflamed bump on his arm and he bursts into tears if anyone came near it.

We ask what happened.

“Baby Fugee fell swing 2 day ago”

WHA!?!?! “It’s been like this for 2 DAYS!”

“Um, yes?” (confused)

“You need to call us for things like this! Call us and we can come help you! This is not good! You need to call us, remember?!”

“Oh, yes, yes, okay.”

Alright. Fast forward through 4 HOURS at the emergency room in which every single person asked me to translate for them in which I replied that I am not a translator and then every single person called Baby Fugee a she (there’s that pink shirt thing again) in which I replied that he is a he. Etc Etc Etc Etc. Broken in 2 spots. Seriously. On goes the PINK cast because they were out of every other color. I give up. Put the pink cast on, whatever.

So that was that! They loaded us up with painkillers and we had to make a detailed chart for 4 days telling them EXACTLY when they could give him the meds and how much of the meds they could give him and we went on our merry way.

So, the kid has a broken arm.

But it doesn’t stop him from gettin jiggy wit it whenever he is over at the Whitey’s house:

Riding in the car with Delaney today, we are both completely tranced out and lulled by the movement of our leisurely drive home. Fergie comes on the radio,

“G-L-A-M-O-R-OUS…” and I hardly even register that the song is playing. Then Delaney, who I thought was asleep, was all:

“She is really good at her letters, huh Mom.”

April 20, 2007

I always drive. I drive probably 99% of the time. I drive so often that our friends and family sometimes don’t realize that Mike CAN even drive. We’ll be arranging a caravan to go somewhere and somebody will say “Well, who is Mike riding with then? Mike doesn’t drive! What about Mike?”

I would say that in the tally of our marital bickering causes, right after video games, comes the source of automotive tension. I drive because it is easier.

My husband is good at many things. If there was a list of things my husband is good at, the list would be about 5 miles long but on that list would not be the phrase “Good at getting places.”

People, we live in Boise Idaho. Have I mentioned that before? There are 3 major thoroughfares and one freeway here. Mike has been a Boisean for over 5 years now and still takes the most BASSACKWARDS and painstakingly longest routes possible to get to all of our most crucial and frequented destinations such as Hollywood Video, Panda Express and World Market Home Decor.

But to make matter worse, not only is Mike directionally challenged, he is embittered at being directionally challenged. He is a calloused driver, wounded and angry. He writhes in his palpable irritation as he is driving and he senses that he is about to Eff up. It builds and builds and builds until it gets to the point where he has to either A. ask me for directions or B. yell at himself for not asking me directions. The latter usually happens as he is flipping a U-turn and cursing. It’s good times for everyone in the vehicle. This is why I drive.

So, anyway, Mike DESPISES being told to do something if he is already doing it or knows how to do it already. This makes for enjoyable past times such as commanding him to shut the garage door as his finger is already pressed against the clicker or delegating him to wash the dishes as he is walking over to the sink to wash the dishes. This also holds true for directions. He is fine with receiving directions so long as you DON’T give him a directional command that he already knew!! How do you know if he already knew you ask? Therein lies the problem my friends.

Conversations like these are more familiar than I would care for them to be:

Me: “You’re going to take a right at the next light”

Mike: “Okay”

Me: “Okay, now you are going to take a left at this stop sign and then get in the left lane”

Mike: “Okay”

Me: “Okay, now you are going to take a left on that stree….”

Mike: “I KNOW babe! I’ve got it! I have had it all the way since we were on Fairview, okay?!”

Me: ………………….”We were never on Fairview”

God bless marriage.

April 18, 2007

We officially put an end to our Domestic adoption last night. It had pretty much been called off on us already but we were still lingering and waiting and standing with radios over our heads outside of the adoption agency. Yesterday, Mike said “Doesn’t it just feel like we are the ex girlfriend still obsessing?”

and I was all, “………… Ya. It really does.”

We re-evaluated and came to a final decision because the waiting game, the sitting on the fence, the questioning if this is right, it had to stop.

So, I came home and sent an email to our coordinators on both ends. The email said, in a nutshell, the following:

Dear nice people who have helped us tremendously throughout this entire situation,

Mike and I have decided to remove ourselves entirely from this placement situation. I realize that we said we would wait and see of B places the baby or not, but we have changed our minds. Even in the event that B decides to place her son and by some miracle the Birthfather and extended family agree to it, we would ask that you still not contact us.

If B has any doubts about placing her baby, then she shouldn’t place her baby. And it is obvious that she is having doubts about placing her baby. We can’t take her baby if she isn’t 100% sure it is the best decision. We can’t take her baby and then fester with guilt over the fact that she doubted her decision.

We don’t know all of the circumstances surrounding B’s decision to place her son in the first place, but we get the idea that those reasons are temporary reasons. From what we know about B, she is incredibly strong, intelligent, reasonable and quick. We believe she can do this, we believe she can raise her son. We felt the temporary reasons for thinking she needed to place her son included not having enough money. We feel that B is capable of changing her circumstances in order to provide for her son. We feel her financial situation is temporary and that in a few years, her situation could change, and yet, we would still have her son even though she is capable of caring for him. It just doesn’t sit right with us anymore.

Please let B know that we care about her and think about her constantly. Please let her know that we support her and I would hope she would contact us at any time. If she needs to talk, needs to be told that she can do this or needs baby tips, I hope she calls me.

Sincerely,

Mike and Jamie

And so after pouring my heart out in these emails to both coordinators, letting them know how thankful I was for their patience and support throughout this situation and explaining in detail how we can’t take B’s baby and how we have decided to move on to International Adoption …

One coordinator never responded and the other sent an email back saying “Thanks for letting me know. I understand. Good luck!”

That’s it.

oooooookkay. I guess thanks. goodbye?

So here we are.

I have to say that we just need a break from adoption OBSESSION for awhile. I am drained of adoption. Especially these last 2 weeks of continuous wondering and contemplating. UGH! I feel like I have been eating, sleeping and bathing in adoption. Time to clear my head for awhile before we jump back in again.

We know this. We are going International now. Ethiopia probably, it was my original plan and I have simply fallen in love with Ethiopian children and all things Africa. It’s where my heart is.

I am sad that Domestic didn’t work for us. I REALLY wanted it to work. I guess we are not cut out for it and that makes me sad. Maybe we will adopt from the foster system down the road, that is something I have always considered as well.

Anyway, excuse the inner ramblings of my mind. I’m thinking out loud.

Thanks for all the comments and emails, your support means a lot. We will get it figured out eventually and finally obtain that frickin PEACE OF MIND that we are looking for.

Ethiopia here we come.

Jamie