February 28, 2008

I WISH that title had something to do with our adoption. But lo, it does not. On that front we are looking at a few more days before we get our new Immigration approval back since we moved to our new house. Once we get that, we are back on the gravy train. The LONG long really really long gravy train which is the waiting list. And on THAT end, we probably have another 3 months (or, you know, TWELVE, it’s hard to really say) before we get our referral.

Why, you ask, is this taking so long? Well, my internets, the easy answer is: I don’t know and the long answer delves into popularity within the Ethiopia program now since China is not so hot and Guatemala is not so hot and Haiti is not so hot and Vietnam is not so hot. Intermix the popularity with the fact that we are using one of the most popular agencies within the Ethiopia program and the fact that our request for 2 kiddos under 3 (biologically related) is a somewhat narrow request. And that’s the long answer in a nutshell. But in answer to the more FRUSTRATING question which is WHY were you told you’d get a referral within 6 months when in actuality it looks like it will be more like FIFTEEN? And to that I would say, TRUST ME, WE WONDER THIS ALL THE TIME.

Wow. I had some frustration pent up, no? Sorry about that.

Whew.

In regard to the title of this post, I’m talking about the most dreadful moment in a Parent’s life. A moment in which you cry, scream, curse the GODS! Unparalleled agony, surreal shock. All of this, I went through yesterday. A day forever embalmed into our memories. The day that Delaney’s cousin cut off all her hair. CUT. OFF. ALL. HER. HAIR.

Please digest.

I know.

Picture two four year old girls, a pair of craft scissors, a Barbie vanity pushed up against the door and 25 minutes of unsupervised play.

And then picture the tufts of beautiful sun-bathed, silky hair all over the floor, the scattered remains, the MURDERED, butchered strands of love that lay upon the floor.

THESE strands of love. Taken from us far too soon. Much too soon.

And then there was Delaney’s face. Her big, saucer eyes peering out from behind what I can only describe as an insane asylum freakness of hair. So thrilled to show me her new do. So happy about what they had done. That is, until I LOST MY MIND WITH GRIEF and was GASPING in shock, called my sister upstairs and she proceeded to cover her mouth in sheer terror. And it was then that Delaney, confusedly started to flip out as well, realizing that something very very bad had happened.

When Delaney gets confused and frustrated she starts blurting out sentences that don’t make any sense whatsoever but she says them in a way that insinuates anger and frustration in her tone. So, at that moment Delaney started yelling “THAT’S NOT EVEN BETTER! AND THIS IS NOT ANY SENSE! YOU’RE WRONG! THIS IS NOT ANY BETTER MOM! THIS..! THIS IS NOT..!”

And then I held her while she sobbed.

I picked up her sweet face with strands of loose hair hanging off it and told her she was not in trouble, everything was fine and now she would have really cute short hair. I took a deep breath, threw her in the car and ran her over to my hair stylist for an emergency fix while my sister went searching for the culprit who had mysteriously gone missing once the evidence surfaced. Once “the REAL and ONLY haircut girl” finished the new pixie cut topped off with super short bangs, Delaney looked in the mirror and said “I LOVE my new hair!”

And it IS really cute. And really short. Boy short, to be exact.

I called Mike shortly before he came home from work to warn him and to make sure his reaction was that of “OH MY GOODNESS THAT HAIRCUT IS THE MOST AWESOME COOLEST HAIRCUT EVER!” as opposed to his more natural reaction of “WHAT IN THE? WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR?!” He was a really good Daddy and made a really good deal out of it. And when she walked away, he turned to me and said “She’s turning into the Lesbian we always hoped she’d be.” Which is what Mike says when he is trying to cope with her growing up into a teenager and therefore being within a 100 mile vicinity of another male teenager. “Lesbian at least until College is finished” her Dad always said. Ah, the fond memories being created in this home.

Pictures coming soon, of both cuts. As soon as our new computer is done being built. (still loathing HP, by the way). Until then I leave you with your imagination and your nightmares.

February 25, 2008

I would say that one of my best attributes and one of my worst attributes is the same attribute. It’s that I am incredibly naive and trusting of people. Like, too much so. To the point that I am going to be screwed over time and time again in the span of my life until I’m an 85 year old Ninny who hits people with her walker.

I feel it’s a positive in that I typically give people the benefit of the doubt and never rush to judgment. Unless, of course, you are sporting one of those “I hate women” or “I hate gay people” or “I hate puppies” shirts and I suppose in that case, the judging would ensue. But even then, I’m still nice. I just assume that you don’t know anything. And that’s sad, so I feel sorry for you. Plus, you have a REALLY ugly shirt.

I feel it’s a negative attribute in that I get screwed over. And it takes me about 3 days longer to figure out that I have been screwed over than the average human being. A lot can happen in 3 days. You know?

The other day I got a call on my cell that was an area code “210″ number. This is not an Idaho number or any number I recognize from out of state either. I answer and wouldn’t you know it? It was a SCAM ARTIST! A real live one. The call went like this:

Hello, Ms. Battle Station?

Yes.

This is Mr. Buttface McGoo calling from the Idaho Statesman Newspaper.

Okay.

I’m calling because it looks like you recently canceled with our service (this is TOTALLY true, btw) and we would like to offer you a great deal to get you back on subscription with us.

Well shucks! That sounds fantastic Mr. Buttface McGoo! Tell me more!

Well, Ms. Battle Station, we would offer you an introductory rate of only $1.00 an issue AND we will waive your unpaid bill!

Uh. Hold up there Partner. We have an unpaid bill?

Yes, Ma’am, it looks as though you do. An unpaid bill of $46.38.

You don’t say?

But Ma’am, we can waive that unpaid bill for you and get you all set up again with our Newspaper if you can give me your credit card information.

Well I’m just confused about the unpaid bill. Let me have you talk to my husband. He pays the bills.

Mike: Hello? We don’t have an unpaid bill. We are paid in full. And we don’t want to renew our subscription. Thank you bye.

I was all, but BABE! Are you sure?! You just hung up on poor Mr. Buttface! He said he would give us a great deal!

So, then Mike decides he should call back just to be TRIPLE sure that our bill was paid in full and wouldn’t you know it? The number didn’t go through when we called back. And when we called the Idaho Statesman, the REAL Idaho Statesman, they had no record of calling us and still showed us paid in full.

The rat bastard had me fooled. And I was pretty mad about it. How dare he! The GALL! To be a scam artist is one thing but to call and try to scam ME! Well that was another.

Mike did some research and entered the number onto Google. Apparently, this number has been a scam number for years and has been reported time and time again on the web as being a well operated scam ring. And everyone said they’d call again. And probably a few more times again after that with different scams each time.

We were ready. Bring it on Buttface.

A few weeks went by and just yesterday, they called again. I was caught off guard since it had been a few weeks, but the call went like this:

ringringring

Me: Hello?

(music and automated voice): This is USAA (military benefits company) calling, we have an important message for you, but all of our service representatives are busy right now. Please hold.

Me: (Uh, weird. But okay).

(music, then someone picks up): Hello?

Hello?

Helloooooo?

Yes, hello?

Hi, is Mr. Battle Station there?

He is not, can I ask who’s calling?

This is Mr. StankMouth McBean calling from USAA.

Me: (WARNING! WARNING! RED FLAG! RED FLAG!) Oh really. And how do I know you are calling from USAA?

Well is this Mr. Battle Station’s wife?

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe you’re full of crap.

(pause) Well….. if this is Mr. Battle Station’s wife, I can divulge the information to you.

Okay. Okay, what’s his wife’s name? Huh? I’m on ALL the records, what’s my name, Playa?!?

(pause) Well….. let me look a little deeper in the file here.

(loooooong pause here) And then I hung up on him.

BOOM! Take THAT Scammers! Scam me, nu-uh! Scam THIS! Ain’t HAPPENIN!

And that’s how I broke the mold, the naivety mold. The weak and broken mold that WAS me, shattered. So, I’d like to thank the scammers that thought they could penetrate the firewall of skepticism that is me now. Because now I am tested and true, UN-SCAMMABLE, thanks to them.

And that’s the story of how I emerged victorious from the battle of the scammers.

And on another note, I’d like to tell you all that my massage with Tarah the other night was the most phenomenal, marvelous experience of my life. She’s like a healer. A master of hands. A Goddess, really. I am in love.

February 18, 2008

Me: Hey, I am having my friend Tarah come over to give us massages on Wednesday night.

Mike: Who’s Tarah?

Me: A friend.

Mike: From where?

Me: From our adoption group and blogging.

Mike: Well…….that’s creepy.

Me: Why?

Mike: Well I don’t know, what does she do for a living? Is she a masseuse?

Me: Yes she’s a masseuse, what do you think, I just invite, like, our Realtor over to give us a good rub down? Of course she’s a masseuse.

Mike: Well…. good.

Me: Alright then. Good talk.

We are a massage couple. Usually on holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, time periods in which we are so immensely stressed out and insane with tired, etc… we get massages and can’t begin to tell you how much we love them. We both emerge from our room at the spa looking like as though we are emerging from an opium den at Woodstock. The relaxation and complete loss of tenseness and stress, well, I don’t think I was that relaxed even as an infant. My Mom will attest to this, I have revolted and despised the human touch from day one, even as a breast-feeding newborn. Remember this story? I am not one to touch or be touched. But massages have never been a problem. And I think it’s because I carry ALL my stress in the shoulders, like most women do, and the massage bit just gets rid of it all. I don’t need a counselor, I just need a massage.

And can I say that finding a good masseuse is probably just as hard, if not harder than finding weapons of mass destruction in Iraq? Do you not concur, internet? Has everyone reading not had the most horrid and awful massage experience in their life because of the masseuse?

The masseuse.

Word to the wise? When you are making casual chit chat with a client as you’re starting a massage and you finagle the details out of him that he’s a soldier getting ready to head to Iraq for a year, just a little tidbit of masseuse protocol, don’t discuss bloody war details and staggering death statistics over the duration of your massage with said client. It’s not actually THAT relaxing. Thanks so much.

And another quick tip? When a client says “Ow, that hurts” and maybe follows that up with “HOLY CRAP, THAT REALLY HURTS” and then possibly mentions again a few minutes later that you must “STOP DOING THAT, PLEASE JUST STOP!” It maaaaaaaay be beneficial in the end that you stop. Stop the torture. I promise, the client will NEVER return or refer friends to you if you PHYSICALLY HURT them the entire hour. A good indicator? A helpful tell-tale sign? When the clients hands start SWEATING from the pain. I’m just sayin.

Lastly, and this is mostly just a request on my part, a simple preference really. Please don’t use random knick-knacks and gizmo object thingies on my body. I don’t want Inspector Gadget to give me my massage. Really, I could ask my 4 year old to bring in her new Hannah Montana lip gloss kit and poke and prod my back for an hour if I wanted this effect. Just plain ol’ hands on back action is what I’m lookin for. The trinkets and lockets are not my thing. Sorry.

But when it’s good? Holy moly, it’s goooooood. When the light music is going, the blankets are soft and comfy, the massage starts with my feet since they are always icicles, the masseuse is ROCKIN the good grub of rub, it’s just phenomenal.

And on a side note, if and when ya’ll go to Playa del Carmen Mexico and stay at the Riu Palace Mexico, head down to the beach and you’ll see a cabana with three pristinely white massage tables set up with a picturesque view of the ocean behind it. STOP THERE. Be eternally glad you did.

Wednesday will be lovely, I can’t wait. It’s what I live for right now, is Wednesday. If I post a half-logical and rambling post on Thursday, you’ll know why. Which is funny, since all my posts are half-logical and rambling. Get it? That’s funny.

February 9, 2008

I apologize for being absent as of late. It’s just that we moved to our new house with these lights with a mind of their own, our computer keeps shutting down and then for reasons I can’t exactly pinpoint at this time, I have bought this DOG.

I choose D, all of the above, as my answer. The question being ‘Why are you continually popping Advil tablets and Starbucks shots?”

So, one thing at a time. Let’s start with the house.

It’s fantastic. We have this enormous bonus room now and Delaney walks into it everyday completely bewildered. We still have the same floor plan as last time in regards to us being on the main level and the kids being upstairs. We love this, for reasons I believe to be extremely obvious. And we have a back yard. A real one!

Where things start to go awry is when you turn on the lights. Which, unfortunately, is MUCH HARDER than you could EVER POSSIBLY imagine. And not just the turning on of lights part but the STAYING ON of lights part and the turning OFF of lights part as well. All three. Which I can attest to as of late, is done much more often in a day than coherently realized. Have you ever mentally noted each time you touch a light switch in your house? BECAUSE I HAVE. AND IT’S A LOT.

Someone thought it was REALLY cool. And high tech. And super savvy. To have these “smart lights” installed in this house. Lights that are MOTION CONTROLLED! Who wouldn’t want that! Who wouldn’t want to turn OFF the kitchen lights at night only to have them TURN BACK ON AGAIN as you MOTION to leave the kitchen! Who wouldn’t want to sit down to eat dinner only to have the lights go off in the middle of your meal because you’re NOT MOVING! Who thinks it’s cool to have them SWITCH BACK ON AGAIN when you get up to get more milk! YAY! It’s like living in a RAVE! Flickering lights all the time!

I’m telling you. The grave reality is WORSE than it sounds.

I sent an email to the Realtor that went like this:

“Hello! The house is great! We love the house! Everything’s lovely! But tell me, can you ask the Sellers just a real quick little question for us? HOW DO WE GET THE LIGHTS TO BEHAVE LIKE NORMAL LIGHTS? Just regular old conforming old fashioned lights? We appreciate the fanciness of it all, but really, we would just like the lights to stay ON when we tell them to and then stay OFF when we tell them to.

Thank you kindly. Our marriage and the future of it thanks you as well.

Sincerely,

The Battle Station Family”

We got a reply with the most glorious information possible within it. The NUMBER of the home automation people. The responsible party. Sweet Mercy, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And it stays on when I tell it to. Hopefully this issue shall be remedied shortly. I will keep you informed. And in the mean time, think of me tonight as you turn your lights off. And be grateful for what you have. A light that does not MOCK YOU.

Secondly, on the computer side of things. Let it be noted at this time that buying a new HP computer with Windows Vista on it (which ALL computers come with now) is quite possibly the WORST decision you will make, aside from perming your hair in high school. We have had MORE problems with this thing in the last 6 months of owning it than Mitt Romney has had in his bid for the White House. Which is to say, a LOT of problems.

It shuts down unexpectedly all the time. One of the fans is broken so the tower keeps overheating. It did not come with WORD on it either. I repeat. Our computer did not come with Microsoft WORD on it, the single most basic and widely used computer program in the history of computers. Just stupid stuff like this. We despise our HP. Go with a Mac. I wish we had.

On to Annie, our new dog. I have to say, we are extremely proud of her. In the week that we have been living at this new house, she hasn’t had a SINGLE accident in the house. I know, right? After practically insisting that she shat and piss all over the last house before we moved and then confusedly FREAKING OUT every time she did, we knew we had to take a different approach at the new place. And we have been very diligent. She is being kennel trained, taken outside several times a day to do her thing and then when she is allowed to roam within the house, it’s only in a very defined area with vinyl flooring and a baby gate on guard. It’s worked like a charm but that’s not to say that it hasn’t been constant work to maintain the regimented plan. Plus she’s kind of a princess. She’s truly not even a real dog, she’s more in line with the sloth family. Which, fine. To each her own. It works. And Delaney is still SMOTHERING her with love.

The only thing I have been truly bummed about lately, with the exception of the lights, is the fact that we are “on hold” with the adoption stuff until we get our paperwork in line again. When you move, you have to have an addendum done to your home study to make sure your new place is suitable for kids, meaning no breeding of pit bulls or making of drug labs and things of that nature. But it’s somewhat of a time consuming process having the social worker out to the place to inspect and then write up the addendum and then send the addendum in to the Immigration Services again for re-approval and yada yada yada. In the mean time, you have to go on hold while this is all sorted out which means that although you can keep your same place in line when you go back ON the list, in the mean time, you are not eligible to receive a referral.

Which means I don’t have that daily excitement and anticipation of getting a referral and running to the computer to check other referrals. Which I guess is good since running to the computer these days would result in flickering of lights throughout the house and then who’s to say the computer wouldn’t crash when I got to it anyway?

Annie and I will, instead, behave like sloths and watch all the caucuses and primaries around the country. What are your thoughts on those?