The Truth Is . . .

So yesterday, I had a "to do" list a mile and a half long. Seriously, I'm not kidding. I woke up yesterday, realized that I have just over a week until I go back to work, and went into complete overdrive. I'm one of those people that works well under pressure. Give me a deadline, and I'll give you a result. Otherwise, I'll spend half of my day organizing my sock drawer.

I still haven't cleaned all the blinds in the house. We have wide slat blinds, but they're still a pain to clean. I try to clean all the blinds in the house every 4-6 months. Does anyone else even clean theirs or am I just weird? I'm pretty sure I already know the answer to that one.

Anyway, I spent a large portion of yesterday, washing and ironing clothes. I like to have every last thing ironed when I go back to work. There may be a laundry room full of clothes that need to be ironed a month after I go back to work, but at least I'm starting with a clean slate.

While I was folding one of the 800 loads of laundry that I did yesterday . . . no really, I'm not sure who wears our clothes while we're sleeping, but one day I'll catch him or her . . . as I was saying, while I was folding one load, I had three more loads waiting to be washed and dried, and I was thinking that I would most likely be washing laundry till the cows came home. I wanted to gripe. I wanted to complain, but then I remembered back to my college days. I lived in an apartment, with no washer and dryer, so I had to do my laundry in the complex's un-airconditioned/un-heated laundromat. If you've ever visited San Angelo, TX you know that it gets insanely hot in the summers (actually most of TX gets insanely hot in the summer) and can get pretty darn cold during the winter. Needless, to say, I spent plenty of time sweating and freezing while I waited for my laundry to be done, and I promised myself that once I had my own washer and dryer, I would never complain about washing clothes again. How quickly I forget.

The truth is, sometimes I complain about laundry, but I could be worrying about what my child will wear when the weather gets colder. I could be kneeling beside a river, trying to clean the few items of clothing my family actually owns and hoping it lasts longer than it was ever meant to last.

The truth is, sometimes I whine about cleaning house, but I could be sleeping without a roof over my head in the blazoning sun or freezing cold. I could be wishing that my child had just a small shelter to protect him from the elements.

The truth is, sometimes I gripe about washing dishes, but I could have no running water, much less hot running water, with which to clean my dishes. For that matter, I could have no dishes, or food to put on my plate when I'm hungry.

The truth is, sometimes I moan about never having time to myself or the constant battle of getting my three year old to nap, but I'd rather have that than the alternative any day.

The truth is, sometimes I deplore having to get up early another day for work, but I have a great job that helps provide for my family and the life which we lead. There are so many that would give anything to have a job right now.

It's so easy to forget how much I've been given. It's so easy to forget that though I may not be wealthy by American standards, I have more than most people in this world can only dream about. It's so easy to forget to be thankful. But thankfulness isn't meant for just one day a year. It should be an attitude that we live out day-by-day.

Colossians 3:17 And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.

The Battle of the Sexes

Still waiting on our approval letters from USCIS. It's the only thing we need at this point. If you have a minute, a prayer that we get both of them soon would be much appreciated.

One of the blogs I read is Blue Eyed Bride. She has two little boys, and I find her very relatable. Anyway, the other day she tweeted about this article, and said all mothers of little boys should read it. So I read it.

The article was about how it seems like boys have relegated to second place in the United States. In the author's words boys are the "consolation" prize. Anyway, it really got me thinking. I don't know how many times I've heard (quite a few different) mothers say, "Oh, I'm glad I have a girl (or girls) instead of a boy!". Or, "I don't know how you do it. Boys are so much work!". I realize that most people don't mean any harm by them, but these kinds of statements can be just as offensive as saying that girls are "prissy, dramatic, and manipulative". By the way, I don't think that girls are "prissy, dramatic, and manipulative". I'm just making a point.

I also hate the stereotypical "boys are better at math and science while girls are better at reading and writing" school of thinking. The truth is, boys are slightly more immature than girls. There brains do develop differently. But these kinds of thoughts are very damaging to children. Please don't ever say, "well you're a boy so you won't be good at reading" or "you're a girl so math won't be your thing". I've seen these ideas put a stumbling block in the way of the success of a child time and time again.

Okay, sorry about the educational bunny trail. Back to the point.

We have chosen to adopt a little girl. The truth is, I had a very hard time coming to this decision. Not because I wanted a little boy more. Not because I wanted a little girl more. Mainly because more than anything, I just wanted a child. I felt very odd making this choice that is usually left up to God. But at the same time, I had to admit that I've always wanted a boy and then a girl (in that order). Don't get me wrong, I would happily take a houseful of wrestling boys, or a houseful of girls playing dress up. But being faced with the choice, I realized that I wanted both. I wanted the balance of having a boy and a girl. I wanted my precious son to have a little sister to protect and love. I wanted my little girl to have a big brother to look up to and adore. So after much prayer and discussion, we requested a girl.

In the end, I don't think it's about having a boy or girl. I think it's more about never looking on either sex as being the "wrong" sex or the "right" sex. In some countries, having a girl brings a stigma and inconvenience which leads to little girls being abandoned by the thousands. In other, more developed countries, people look at little girls as the prize to be spoiled, pampered, and doted on while boys are considered loud, annoying, and pesky. Personally, I think just being able to nurture, love, and have the enormous responsibility of taking care of another human being is the greatest prize of all.

Just Call Me Ellie Mae

As you may remember, last week we country folk headed to the big city of San Antonio (at this point it will be helpful for you to start humming "The Beverly Hillbillies" theme song). We got to the hotel Thursday afternoon, and to begin with, the valet guy apparently thought that we were all in military boot camp. He was snapping orders at hotel guests and bellboys alike. So, he asked me if we'd need a luggage cart and then in the same breath, informed me that if we wanted a cart we'd have to use a bellboy. So I answered "probably so" meaning "yes we'll need a bellboy". The guy looked at me and then told me to check with my husband and get back to him. Whoa! Excuse me? Anyway, I secured a bellboy, and we loaded up the cart. No thanks to you Mr. Valet.

Just as we were about ready to head up, the valet guy stopped Patrick, and said "Sir, you'll have to stay with me while we go over your vehicle. Ma'am, the bellboy will escort you to your room." Alrighty then. Then he saluted and marched off double time. Just kidding. But he did force Patrick to do a 100 point inspection of the car and spent five minutes informing him of the dangers of parking at Sea World. He followed that up by letting Patrick know that if he or one of the other valets damaged our car it would be in a big way. No small dents and dings for them. We were incredibly reassured.

So while Patrick was spending some quality time with Mr. Valet, Andrew, my new friend the bellboy, and I headed up to the room. Now, in my past experiences, the bellboy has brought our luggage up on a service elevator. But this guy was riding the elevator with us so, of course, I had to act like a complete idiot. Our room number was 1401, and for some reason, which is beyond me, when I saw that 14 I couldn't think clearly. I couldn't figure out what floor to push. In my mind I was thinking, "Obviously, it's not one. Maybe it's floor four? Oh my gosh, is it hot in here? I'm not sure if their air conditioners are working properly. I can't stay here if the air conditioners don't work!".

While I was having this conversation with myself (I have a lot of conversations with myself . . . it's rather concerning), another lady got on the elevator, and she and the bellboy both stared at me expectantly. Finally, I said, "Ummmm, 1401, that would be floor . . .?" The bellboy looked on me with pity, and answered, "Actually, that'll be floor 14." You know he wanted to add "you moron". I wanted to melt into the the floor. But no, I held my head high. Well that is, until Andrew started jumping up and down, and going "Whoa! Elevator! Whoa!". Then I began babbling, about how we live in a small town and don't get to ride elevators or go out in public very often.  Really Courtney? Just stop talking! Let me just say it was a long ride to floor fourteen.

By the time we got to her floor, the poor, poor lady on the elevator with us was looking at me like I was about the closest thing to crazy she'd ever seen. She may not have been far off. I mean I've stayed in a hotel before. I've ridden an elevator or two in my day. I lived in a high rise during college. I haven't been locked in a closet my entire life. But people, the older I get, the more things like this happen. Oh the stories I could tell you if we had 150 years. Please tell me I'm not alone in this. I'd love to know that at least some of you are losing your minds right along with me.

Brutally Honest

Just in case you think I'm perfect ;) . . .

Do you ever say something, and then wish you'd kept your big mouth shut? Better yet, do you ever type something, and then wish you'd thought before pressing send? Hi I'm Courtney, and I pop off at the mouth.

When I get irritated, frustrated, annoyed, or impatient with people, I've been known to say things that I either immediately or in the course of time regret. I'm not a mean person (at least I don't think I am), but sometimes, my mouth gets ahead of my brain. Not saying it's right. Just being honest. See the title.

To add fuel to the fire, there are those people who just get to me. I know that's not good or right or kind, but it's the truth. Again, see the title. The thing is, for the most part, I give people the benefit of the doubt. I don't often ever go into relationships looking for problems, but when pushed I will push back. Maybe not at first, but in time, I will push back. Which is where the "popping off at the mouth" comes in. 

I also tend to have issues with trusting people once they've hurt me. If you've done something to violate my trust, I will be nice to you, and I don't hate you. But trust, well that's a whole other story. Hurt me once shame on you. Hurt me twice shame on me. I don't let my walls down easily. I don't become best friends with everyone I meet. So, if and when I do let you in and my trust is violated, it's hard to gain it back. Again, I'm not saying this is the way you should live your life. I'm just laying it all out there.

Which brings me back to my original point  . . . even when I say something hurtful, I always regret it. I'm far from perfect. I have issues just like everyone else. I'm still a work in progress.

And hopefully, I'll learn to keep my big mouth shut. In person and on the world wide web.

And no I'm not telling anyone exactly what I said and/or did.

Updates & The Waiting Game

If you're wondering why I haven't posted anything adoption related, it's because nothing is happening. At the moment we're waiting for our approval letters from USCIS. Once we have those babies, we will get everything notarized and/or apostilled, and then it is essentially out of our hands. That's when the real waiting begins. And just so you know the Bulgarian government is about to enter their month and a half long summer vacation. Which means no court dates. Which means no adoptions finalized until late September.

If the current pattern continues, we will most likely receive a referral around fall of 2013. Of course, we are praying that the pattern does not continue as it is but instead improves drastically. Still it's very important that we maintain realistic expectations.

So that's where we stand.

As we move into the waiting period of the adoption process, I'll do my best to keep you updated. I'll let you know when and how often referrals are coming in, but there will also be a lot of down time. Which means, there may or may not be pointless posts about making bread and watering the grass. Just giving you plenty of fair warning. There will also be family updates, and daily life happenings to read about, but I think I've already warned you about that one. And of course, there may also be some frustrated, angst ridden posts about how long this whole process is taking followed by apologies for my griping and complaining (I would say I'm reverting to my teenage years, but teenagers rarely follow their griping and complaining with an apology).

Now that you know what to expect, I hope you hang around throughout this whole process. I can't promise you much, but I can promise you that on occasion I'm even good for a laugh or two.

Happy Tuesday everyone!

The Rise and Fall of the Bread (read borderline disaster)

So I decided this morning that I was going to make homemade bread for my family from this point on. It seemed like a really good idea when I was laying in bed still slightly loopy from taking Benadryl before bed last night.

Anyway, I went to my source of all important information . . . google. Now you have to keep in mind I  (1) am not so great at baking (something about not following recipes well) and (2) have never in my life made a bread (or anything for that matter) that requires yeast. Still I've eaten my share of yeast bread, so I figured that makes me somewhat of an expert. Not really, but we'll go with it.

So I found a simple recipe on google, and I went to work. Everything went really smoothly . . . in the beginning. My first rising was good. The dough was big baby. And I was like "I got this bread thang in the bag." Then I moved on to the next stage. The one where you put the bread in the bread pans and let it rise there. And it rose a little bit and then stopped. I tried to give it more time. I kept thinking, "that can't be it". But it was.

So I did the next logical thing. I stuck it in the oven, and then furiously started talking back and forth with my cousin on facebook. She's a farmer's wife. She knows how to bake bread (please see note at the end). So anyway, Bitty  . . . her real name is Amanda . . . my family likes to give their children nicknames that make other people ask "is that your real name?" . . . case and point, my brother goes by Stoney. Okay back to the bread, so Bitty said I either didn't have enough yeast, or the temperature changed enough to affect the rising, or the yeast wasn't very good.

Whatever the problem, the bread was a little on the flat side and slightly more dense than I had intended, but overall, it had a good taste and texture. I will try again. The bread will rise again. But I may still purchase a loaf or ten at the grocery store while I master my bread baking skills. Any advice?

Note: Being a farmer's wife does not automatically ensure that you will be able to bake bread. Nor does being a farmer's wife mean that you should know how to bake bread. My cousin just happens to be a very cool bread bakin' farmer's wife among many other things. Love ya' Bitty.

I'm Back

Back to reality ladies and gents. Don't worry, I snatched up some of those handy-dandy travel size toiletries to bring home. I don't know why I always bring them home, but I do. They may come in useful one day.

We had a fun filled few days in San Antonio. San Antonio is a great place for us to visit. It's just about an hour (maybe a bit more) drive, and there is more than enough to keep us busy. I love being downtown in cities where you have walking access to everything you need. If I ever lived in a city, I would have to either walk or rely on mass transit. I'm not a good driver in crazy traffic. Some members of my family would say I'm not a good driver in any kind of traffic, but we'll just ignore them.

Anyway, we drove down on Thursday afternoon, and after checking in at our hotel we hit the Riverwalk. After dinner, we took Andrew on a riverboat ride which he enjoyed and ended up outside the Alamo before going back to our room.

Friday morning we got up bright and early and headed to Sea World. Andrew was really excited about seeing "Shampoo" as he called him (or her as the case may be). I love Sea World, but I think that once in my life I would like to go when it's not sweltering. We were fortunate that for all of the morning and part of the afternoon there were overcast skies which helped it to stay a little bit on the "cooler" side . . . if you can consider 98 degrees cool.

Sesame Street and Shamu . . . what more could you ask for?

Baby Shamu . . . oh my goodness . . . so stinkin' cute.

Baby Sea Lion . . . oh dear . . . need I say more?

First rollercoaster ride! :)

On Saturday morning, we put our walking shoes back on and went exploring. We visited El Mercado and wandered through the shops and booths. Afterward, we went back to the Alamo. Yes, I forced my family to go back. I wanted to go inside. Patrick says I've made him go through the Alamo more times than he can count. Among other things, I teach Texas history . . . I love Texas history. Unfortunately, you are not supposed to take pictures on the inside of the Alamo. We ate lunch on the Riverwalk, and then returned to the air conditioning to dry off from sweating buckets rest. That evening, after three days of no naps and being on the go, Andrew was wiped out so we grabbed pizza at a local hole in the wall place (which was really good) and spent the rest of the night hanging out in the room.

To be so cool in 104 degree temps . . .

When taking pictures of a bunch of people you don't know, black and white (or sepia or whatever) always seems to look better.

Trips are always fun, and vacations are great, but I'm pretty sure Dorothy had it right when she tapped her heels together and said, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home . . .".

I'm leaving you with a video of Andrew getting his "groove thang" on with the characters of Sesame Street. He's got moves you only wish you had. (Sorry about the quality . . . I had to lessen the quality to get it to load)

Today I Will . . .

Psalm 118:24 (NKJV)
  This is the day the LORD has made;
         We will rejoice and be glad in it.

I have so much to do today. I'm not even sure why I'm on here. Except that I haven't finished my coffee, and I'd like to, at the very least, have some caffeine coursing through my veins before I tackle the tasks I have in front of me.

I need to pack for our trip to San Antonio this weekend. We're leaving tomorrow, and I haven't packed yet. Way out of character for me, but I had a team leader meeting at school yesterday that took up a big chunk of my morning. After that, I ran errands, and by the time I got home, it was time to pick up Andrew and get dinner started.
 
Anyway, yesterday reminded me of a work day. Which left me wondering, "Where the heck has the summer gone?!?" In less than three weeks, I'll be back at work, and I've already started preparing for another school year. Then I realized that I spend most of my time looking forward to the next "thing" that's coming up, rather than enjoying the here and now. Not that there is anything wrong with looking forward to things. We need to look forward to great things in our lives, but it seems like most people are literally "wishing their lives away". We wish for summer only to find the heat unbearable, and so, we wish for cooler temps and fall weather. And with the advent of fall, we wish for Thanksgiving and Christmas. And with the passing of the holidays, the post holiday blues and cold weather set in (yes even in Texas we get our standard two months of cold weather), and we wish for Spring. We wish for our babies to get past this stage and on to an easier one. We wish for bigger houses, newer cars, better clothes, longer vacations . . . it's a never ending list. And then we look up one day and realize, that so much of our lives have flown by in a crazy blur. We've stayed busy in order to try and fulfill ourselves, but instead of fulfillment we find that we're tired and worn out.

Where on earth did all this reflective thinking come from? I think it has something to do with the fact that Andrew is going to four in October. Four. Years. Old. Next thing I know, he'll be driving. And while I wouldn't go back for anything, I find myself wishing, ironically enough, that I had taken the time to enjoy each little stage and moment a little more before rushing on to the next. So, I guess I'm making a middle of the year resolution . . . . Yes, I will have goals. I will look forward to "fun" things that are coming up, but I will also enjoy my life now. I will enjoy those days when I'm buried in laundry, and have a grocery list a mile long. I will enjoy those days when I have a stack of dishes to do, and I've stepped on Thomas the Train for the thousandth time. I will enjoy those days when we are out and about and spending time as a family. Today I will stop and enjoy the moment even while looking forward to tomorrow.

Summer: the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I love being out for the summer and spending time with my little man. I love not wearing make up or washing fixing my hair (yes I shower . . . no I don't always wash my hair . . . ewww. . . .gross). I love wearing pajamas all day until 2:00 p.m. I love having time to workout (not that I always do) and being able to cook more complicated meals that I just don't have time for during the school year. I love the freedom that summer allows. But there are some drawbacks to this whole summer vacation thing (the following picture not being one of them).

The Good

First, is the heat. I mean it is hot here in Texas, and I'm not lovin' it. In my opinion the optimal temperatures are between 70-90 degrees farenheit . . . obviously not celcius. Anything below 70 and I'm pulling out my ski coat or parking myself in front of the fireplace with a blanket. I'm so not kidding. Anything above 90 and I'm like, "Why do we wear clothes?" I'm so kidding about that one. Please wear clothes. On top of the heat, Texas is, yet again, in throws of another extreme drought. How dramatic am I? But in all seriousness, we could use some rain . . . desperately. I love the sun as much as the next person, but a rainy day or 200 would be nice.

The Bad

(my poor little plant can't handle the heat . . . either that or I killed it  . . . which is quite possible)

The other problem with summer is the whole lack of a schedule. I thrive on schedules, and when I'm without one for too long, I fall completely apart. I become an unproductive sloth that sits and eats ice cream all day. Again, a bit of a dramatization. It seems like I should have all the time in the world to get stuff done, but instead I spend my days messing around. I think I may be procrastinating, but I'm not ready to admit that. I mean, do I really need to plan Andrew's October birthday party in July? Yes, I think I do. I tend to do things I shouldn't be doing instead of what I should be doing (like trying to figure out what to do with Patrick's "junk" box). The other thing I keep doing is cleaning stuff out and rearranging things for our little girl's arrival, but seriously, we aren't even registered with the MOJ yet. I have plenty of time, but if things aren't ready now, it will bug me for the next two years.

The Ugly

(in case you can't read the writing this is Pat's "junk" box . . . ridiculous)

I'm not sure what all this says about me. But in the end, I think working may actually be a good thing in my life. It keeps me focused and gives me something to look forward to . . . weekends and holidays. Too bad it will still be 100+ degrees when I go back to work in August . . . if only I could change the temperature. Am I the only person with these issues?

Random (Sunday) Ramblings

Tonight we heard that another family received a referral from Bulgaria. The referral is for a healthy two year old little girl. The family registered their dossier with the MOJ in March of 2009 so they've been waiting for quite a while. Last year there were forty adoptions to the United States from Bulgaria. At this point, I have no idea how many adoptions have been completed in 2011, but there does seem to be an upward swing. And we know that Bulgaria is working hard to get these children placed in homes.

Patrick made it home "safe and sound" from youth camp. Both Andrew and I were very happy to see him. I'm not even remotely cut out to be a single parent. I applaud all you single moms and dads out there.

Patrick did come home with a "camp" cold. You and I both know, lack of sleep, close quarters, and probably not the greatest hygiene (i.e. germ infested dorms) lead to things like colds. Unfortunately, I'm not the world's best nurse. I'm working on it, but with the exception of Andrew, I don't have a very good bedside manner. Guess it's a good thing I went into teaching and not nursing (not to mention all my insane germaphobic tendencies).

On Thursday, we are heading to San Antonio for a short three night trip. We are going to take Andrew to Sea World and spend some time at the riverwalk. I'm looking forward to getting away for a few days. In all honesty, I wanted to go to the mountains this summer. We went to Lake Tahoe last December, and it was beautiful but cold and insanely snowy (in the first 24 hours we were there it snowed 24 inches). But oh the mountains in the summer . . .  I love the mountains in the summer. There is just something about the mountains, be it in a breathtaking majestic view or a quiet tree covered beauty, that reminds me like nothing else how mighty my God is, and that brings a peace like no other. Unfortunately, there just wasn't a way to squeeze a trip to the mountains into our crazy summer schedule. Maybe next year . . .

In a few weeks summer will be over, and I'll be back at work. I'm trying not to think too much about it. I don't want to spend what little bit of time off I have left moping about it coming to an end. While I love being home during the summer, I don't so much like the hot sweltering dry weather. I look forward to cooler temperatures, and hopefully some a lot of rain come autumn.

So I'm thinking I've bored everyone enough for one night or day as the case may be. Hope you have a great Monday!

Bulgaria Update & USCIS Appointment

Every Friday we get a "Bulgaria Update" from our adoption agency. Sometimes it's full of exciting news such as a family receiving a referral. Other times it's more a compilation of tidbits of information that we may (or may not) need to know (depending on our current status). Every single week it lists the number of families that are in the various stages of the adoption process. Right now we are in the category of "paperwork" families, but we are so very close to being out of that paperwork category. I've said it before, but so much of the adoption process is out of our hands, and even if you're a get it done yesterday kind of person, like myself, you can't force everyone else to get things done on your timeline. Still, I look forward to the day when we are listed as "MOJ registered". Hopefully, we'll be there by the end of the year.

I've also been meaning to give you a rundown of our fingerprinting trip to USCIS. Our appointment was on the 11th at 3:00 pm in San Antonio. Even with me giving the directions (I had both the Garmin and Google Maps going . . . I'm severely directionally challenged), we arrived an hour early. I like to get places early. Being late irritates the heck out of me. We decided to go in and see if they could get us taken care of. But first, we took all electronic devices out of our purses (that should really say purse, but it doesn't sound right)and pockets so that we wouldn't be tempted to reveal the top secret goings ons of the San Antonio USCIS office (which happens to be located in a shopping center).

As soon as we walked through the doors, we were greeted by a friendly lady, and she informed us that we had actually "come at a perfect time". Yay! for the little things. We didn't walk through medical detectors. No one checked our stuff. I so could've taken every electronic device I own in that place. We were asked to fill out an insanely basic information form, and after I finished with my form, the lady clipped my driver's license and info sheet together with a number and asked me to have a seat. Patrick was still filling out his form. I have no idea why it was taking him so long. No sooner had I plopped my not so little bottom in the chair, then they called me back. Patrick? He was just finishing up his form. I was just glad I was ahead of him. I like to finish first. I'm competitive that way.

Sidenote: When I was in school and college, I finished my tests as quickly as I could without looking them over so that I could be the first one to turn them in. This may have affected my GPA but not much. Also, if you are one of my students and think you're going to try this in my classroom, you've got another thing coming buster.  Sidenote over.

So, the lady started fingerprinting me. Now for those of you who had to be ink fingerprinted, like us, it's nice to have someone that knows what they're doing fingerprinting you. I'm not saying the police officers that did our prints here in Mayberry weren't nice, but man, the lady that did my prints at the USCIS office was on the ball. Plus, she had a huge computer monitor that showed every detail of my prints. Which begs the question, "Why did we have to do ink prints?". Right after we got started, Patrick was called back and they started his fingerprinting on the other side of the room. Then my dang computer started beeping, and we had to start redoing my prints again and again and again. . .

I was starting to tense up. Sweat was poring down my back. The lady doing my prints was getting really irritated. And to make it even worse, I could tell that Patrick wasn't having any problems. Then I started having flashbacks to the ink prints we had to do and the supposed illegibility of mine, and I fell on the floor screaming, "Make it stop, make it stop!!!". Okay, almost all of this paragraph up to this point is a lie (except for the part about Patrick having no problems), but without it this story would be insanely boring. So way too long story short, Patrick's prints were done at the same time as mine even though I started before him. My left hand didn't want to cooperate, and so, we did have to redo them, but the lady, who was very patient, finally got them. And of course the other lady oohed and aahed over what great prints my husband had. Back off lady . . . you can't have him. Now all we have to do is wait for our approval letters.

And just in case . . . if you happen to know or be related to anyone who works at the USCIS office in San Antonio, can you please tell them what a great job they did? The service was awesome. That's all.

Enjoy your weekend everyone!

Eternity

Yesterday I ventured to Hobby Lobby with my 3 year old son. Boy howdy is that a fun experience. Most places I let him walk but never in Hobby Lobby. I could see it now, "I'm sorry ma'am, but you'll have to pay for that entire shelf full of glass junk vases, bowls, and plates that your son just knocked down trying to climb." Yeah, never let him walk.

I really have no idea why I went in there. I thought about taking up jewelry making for about 2.5 seconds, but that came to a screeching halt when I remembered that I'm the polar opposite of crafty. While I was in there, I did realize that I have over three years worth of Andrew's memorabilia that I've been meaning to put into a scrapbook. So we ventured into the scrapbook section where we found the perfect scrapbooks for both Andrew and his future sister. (sorry about the quality . . . iPhone photos)

Andrew loves his robot scrapbook, and I can't wait to fill them both with memories. After grabbing the scrapbooks, we booked it out of there in order to ensure that no more money was spent and no junk valuable items were broken.

Fast forward to this morning . . . I was essentially kicked out my house. I have a cleaning lady that comes every other week. I'll explain some other time, but suffice it to say, I don't hang around while she's cleaning. Makes me feel weird. So anyway, I was forced to go to Target. I rarely go to Target without a purpose, but if you're a teacher, the dollar bins are awesome in the weeks leading up to school. So after, stocking up on more junk treasures for my class and classroom (I'll stop with the junk thing), I headed over to the kid's clothes.

I know a couple people that will be having baby girls in the next few months, and so, I wandered into the girl's clothes. I was innocently and somewhat aimlessly looking through the clothes, when I was unexpectedly hit with a ton a bricks. Not a literal ton of bricks but a figurative one (like you couldn't figure that out). I realized, I am so ready to see, and meet, and hold, and hug, and rock, and kiss my little girl. And suddenly two years seemed like an eternity to have to wait.

Two years still seems like forever even though I should know better than anyone how quickly two years can pass. It seems like just yesterday I was leaving for college. That was 12 years ago. It seems like just yesterday I was graduating from college and getting married. That was 8 years ago. It seems like just yesterday we were moving into our new home. That was 4 and a half years ago. It seems like just yesterday I was pregnant. That was 4 years ago. It seems like just yesterday Andrew was born. That was 3 years 9 months and 8 days ago. It seems like just yesterday we were sending in our adoption application. That was almost 6 months ago. I'll stop now. You get the point.

In spite of the wait, the stress, the worries, the fears, I wouldn't do this any other way. I'm more than glad we chose Bulgaria. I think it is the country we were meant to choose. But that doesn't mean I won't be praying that the wait times get shortened and the referrals start rolling in. Not only for us but for all the families who can't wait to hold their little girls and boys. And until then, I'll work on filling scrapbook pages with all the important and not so important events that will lead up to us bringing our little girl home. (See there was a point to me showing you those scrapbooks.)

Striking the Balance

Patrick's been at youth camp since Monday, and we're holding up pretty well.  Andrew misses his daddy (and I miss my husband), but at least he's at an age where he's kind of starting to understand days and the passage of time. He knows Daddy is coming home on Friday, and he can't wait to see him.

A lot of people don't understand why I don't leave Andrew and go to youth camp. The biggest reason is Andrew doesn't do well away from both of us at the same time, and four nights would be an eternity for everyone involved. I don't think I could handle two nights. He's spent an occasional night at my sister's, but when it's all said and done, he's usually there less than 24 hours.

When it comes down to it Andrew doesn't get left all that often, and Patrick and I aren't huge "date" night people. For the most part, where we go Andrew goes. Collective gasp . . . It's not that we don't enjoy spending a night out here and there, but weekly or even monthly nights out, either alone or with friends, are just not where we are in our lives or in our marriage. We didn't have Andrew until we had been married over four years, and we spent the majority of those years doing as we pleased. We went out to dinner, stayed up late, traveled, and enjoyed being alone, but now we have a child and will soon have two.

So where do we find the balance? Does that mean that Andrew comes in front of our marriage? I'll answer the second question first. No, Andrew does not and should not come first, but when you have kids things change. It's just one of those facts of life. I guess we find the balance in the fact that we communicate, and for the most part we make an effort to spend a few moments together on most days. And while we don't have unlimited time together, I try to make sure that Andrew goes to bed early enough so that we have some time together even if somedays it's only a few minutes at the end of a very long day. During the summer we get quite a bit more quality time. We don't have the same pressures as when we are both working demanding full time jobs. It allows us to relax and enjoy life a little more, and sometimes, we can even squeeze in an entire movie before I fall asleep. When we're both working, time is a precious commodity, and there are so many things to fill the little time we have so we try to do as much as a family as possible.

I also think you have to come to the realization that time as a family can also be quality time for your relationship with one another. Parenting, while definitely trying at times, also has the ability to bring two people together when nothing else can. If you don't stand together you'll fall together. Not that we're perfect, but a united front is imperative in parenting. And through working together you find that your bond becomes tighter and relationship becomes stronger. You get to see and know your spouse in a completely different light.

Bottom line? I don't think there is anything wrong with "date" nights and even a night away here and there. Believe me, I've had plenty of those "I need a break" moments (not that a break is always possible), and every marriage needs time and attention. But when it comes down to it, you don't have to go out or constantly be doing something elaborate or romantic, you don't have to have three days alone without your kids, and you don't have to spend tons of money to have a quality marriage. It's not about romance or candlelight or gifts. Ultimately, it's about communicating with your spouse and letting him (or her) know that you love and need him and (almost as importantly) that you've got his back.

P.S. - I'm no marriage expert. This is just my personal opinion taken from my personal experiences in my own marriage.

8 Years of Wedded Bliss

Wow! Where does the time go? Eight years ago I walked down the the aisle. Eight years ago I married the one and only person I would want to spend the rest of my life with. Eight years ago my life changed for the better.

After the wedding we spent an amazing week in San Francisco. I love San Francisco. I left my heart in San Francisco . . . well not really, but it seemed fitting to say. We walked miles, ate way too much, and had the time of our lives (other than accidentally driving across the Oakland Bay bridge straight into one of the most dangerous parts of Oakland).

Wow, who is that good looking fellow?



Alcatraz . . .

The Sea Lions at the wharf. They're gone now. One day they just up and left. Kind of sad and a little rude. They didn't even say goodbye. ;)

After a week in honeymoon heaven, we made our way home to our first little casa. Yep, it was a trailer house (mobile home for you p.c. people). We moved it onto my parents' ranch and saved a lot of money living there. I did take down those curtains. Couldn't handle them. 

 Us in our first home.

Pardon the fashion crisis that was the pants I was wearing.

I'm not sure what I was thinking, but wow! What the heck was I thinking?

Being the romantic couple we are, Patrick decided to go to youth camp the week of our anniversary (he didn't decide on his own. I helped him picked the dates so I'm partially responsible). But don't worry, we celebrated early with a trip to Austin and dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. We may not be the world's most romantic couple, but we love each other. We enjoy being with one another. We support each other. We encourage each other. We laugh, we fight, we play, we work side-by-side. And if that ain't romantic, then I don't know what is.

Happy Anniversary Honey! I love you.

What do fingerprints & salsa have in common?

Edit: We are done! Took less than 5 minutes, and that was having to redo my left hand 27 times (slight exaggeration . . . I think my mom believed me when I said that). Now we are praying that our acceptance letter arrives very soon.

We are on our way to get fingerprinted with USCIS. We can't take our phones in with us so I'm gonna be without any connection to the world for a bit. Isn't it sad how addicted we get to the Internet? I mean a year ago I wasn't even on Facebook. Now I can't live without my iPhone.

Anyway, they won't let me take my video camera in either. You know because I was planning on taking it in and revealing all their secrets to the world. So I'm blogging while we drive to keep my mind off of my husband's driving. He's already tried to squeeze us between an 18 wheeler and a septic truck. It could've been really bad. I may or may not have lost it . . . just a bit.

Like five minutes before we left . . . I just had to stop writing and tell Patrick to watch the road . . . now I'm lost. Oh yeah, right before we left I dumped a whole container of freshly made salsa all over my kitchen floor and inside one of my bottom cabinets. I was so mad. And then Andrew kept asking, "Why'd you make that mess Mom?". Seriously, I had to bite my tongue because I was not a happy camper. But it wasn't his fault. I got the mess cleaned, we dropped Andrew off with my sister, and got on the road to San Antonio.

Now my fingers are starting to cramp and Patrick is starting to scare the living daylights out of me. I need to go scream "brake lights!" over and over to remind him he's not alone on the road. Have a great afternoon everyone.

And fingerprints and salsa have nothing in common . . . in case you were wondering.

Sorry for mistakes I'm doing this on my phone. :)

To Be Called

Like my new header? Simple and to the point right? It's the header I've wanted from the beginning, but Blogger doesn't have a template to do it the way I wanted it. So after some creative thinking, converting of files, figuring out how to correctly enter things, two and a half hours of trying and retrying, yada, yada, yada, and so on and so forth, I finally ended up with the header you see here. I probably know I did things the hard way. That's just how I roll. Ten years ago I had to code an entire webpage for one of my college classes. I did it once and swore I would never do it again. I completely and purposefully erased all that knowledge from my brain. Which is why I took two hours to do one stinkin header.

On to more important and controversial topics . . . I've heard quite a few adoptive parents make the comment lately that "everyone should adopt". At first I thought it was just a general comment because they were so happy as adoptive parents, but then I realized that a lot of these people are serious. They seriously think that every good citizen who is physically, mentally, and emotionally capable of parenting should adopt.

Personally, I think it's like saying "everyone should move to Africa" or "everyone should be a youth pastor". I realize that there are a huge number of children in this world in need of adoptive families that will never be adopted. Most statistics state that there are around 143 million orphans in our world. That number doesn't include children in foster and group homes. But despite this, I don't think everyone is "called" to be an adoptive parent.

How do you know you are supposed to adopt? The desire you feel is more than just a desire to help an orphan or an obligation to "save" a child. It's a desire to love and parent through the process of adoption. You feel a passion for a child that goes beyond just wanting to help out. I think that adopting out of obligation can lead to major problems in your relationship with the child in the future.

So no, I don't think everyone is called to adopt, but I do think everyone is called to help. I said earlier that there are far more orphans and foster children than adoptive homes in this world. The fact is, many, many children will live out their lives in orphanages and foster homes, and even if you aren't called to adopt you can help to make these homes safe and healthy places to live.

So, while, you'll never hear me saying "everyone is called to adopt", you will hear me adamantly stating that everyone needs to find a way to help the children both here and around the world who have no way to help themselves.

Give money, give food, give time, give guidance . . . just give something.

Random (Friday) Ramblings

My child is a G to the R to the OUCH this morning. He went to bed, but not to sleep, early last night. He hates to sleep more than any person I've ever seen. Thinks we have big wild parties while he's sleeping. And then, as is usual, he was up with the birds this morning. He will be taking an early and long nap today. But even when he's grouchy and needs a haircut, he's still the cutest kid ever . . .

My sister is picking Andrew up this afternoon to spend the night. It's the only place he sleeps away from us, and it's not that often. I don't like leaving my child. I have issues.

I let him spend the night, because when we go to Bulgaria we're going to have to leave him for a long time.

We're going to the Cheesecake Factory for an early anniversary dinner tonight. Patrick is going to be at youth camp during our real anniversary.

Speaking of youth camp, Patrick is going to be gone for four nights next week. It doesn't bother me to stay alone. I kind of like it, but I'm always super glad when he comes home.

Patrick is supposed to leave at 9:00 a.m. on Monday, but our USCIS fingerprinting appointments are at 3:00 p.m. in San Antonio (the opposite direction), so he'll have to go after the appointment.

We have to drive over an hour to the appointment, and it only takes around 5 minutes. Hmmm.

I wish I had granite countertops. But I don't. Now is not a good time to get them. Lots of adoption fees.

Patrick informed me I can't get granite countertops because we're not going to live here much longer. Would someone please tell me where we're going? Apparently he has money I don't know about (a girl can dream right?).

Patrick doesn't usually read my blog. He lives with me. He's heard most, if not all, of this weirdness before.

I've only been working out every other day. I need to get my behind in gear.

I spent over an hour cleaning the inside of the entertainment center yesterday. I waste time doing stuff like that rather than what I should be doing.

That's 'bout it for today. Have a great Friday folks. (It is Friday right? I never know what day it is)

FEAR

I am not, by nature, an "eternal optimist". I've never been a "glass half full" kind of girl. I'm a worrier. I'm paranoid. When I was little, I was convinced that at any moment either (1) a tornado was going to flatten my house or (2) a fire was going to burn it to the ground. I'm not kidding. I'm not even remotely trying to be funny. That is the God-honest truth. I've always been the" prepare for the worst and then you won't be disappointed" type.

Hello, my name is Courtney, and I'm a recovering pessimist. I say recovering because I'm pushing through my fears. Yep that's what it all boils down to FEAR! Big fat ugly 4 letter word now isn't it? (Ha! I just re-counted the letters to make sure there were four) But it's there. I'm sure it exists in all of us to one extent or another. I hope that we all have, at the very least, some healthy fear. You know like the kind of fear that tells you, at eight years of age, that you cannot fly so don't even try it?

But over the last few years I think God has been teaching me (okay more like compelling me) to stop walking around afraid. Even before this whole adoption process became a reality, He started pushing me to realize that a lot (okay most) of my fears were completely unfounded. He also started showing me that my fears are an insult to Him and who He is. Yep, I'm insulting the Creator of the Universe by choosing to be afraid and not trust Him. Thankfully, He is also a good and loving God, who has an enormous amount of patience with me and all of my craziness.

Marrying Patrick has been an exercise in risk-taking. Not actually marrying him. I mean marrying him wasn't in and of itself a risk (he's an incredibly stable guy), but Patrick is a lot more of a risk-taker than I ever care to be. He chose a job, real estate, that completely depends on the ebb and flow of the economy. Then he chose to buy rental properties which I wouldn't have done in a million years. Then he told me that he wanted to become a part owner in his company. All the while, I was in the corner hyperventilating into a paper (not plastic) bag. Have I had a "freak" out moment or two in this whole process? Have there been some arguments about whether or not "this" or "that" was a good idea? You betcha, but I'm also learning that I can't stand still and do nothing just because I'm afraid.

Just a little over four years after getting married, I gave birth to Andrew five weeks early. And along with crazy hormone lady, I turned into a great big bundle of nerves. Is he hungry? Did he eat enough? If I just give him formula am I the worst mom ever? Why won't he sleep? Why is he sleeping so much? What if he breaks? What if I don't hold him enough? What if I hold him too much? When did he last poop? Are we bonding? Finally, I had to realize that I'm not perfect. No mother is. And I gave it to God and did my best. Guess what? Andrew is a happy, healthy, thriving three year old. Sure he has his moments, but last night when I was laying beside him in his bed he said, "Mom, I really like you." Now he tells me he loves me all the time, but when he says he likes me, that is a huge compliment. It means I'm at the level of his friends, his toys, and his Dad. Nothing to complain about there.

Enter adoption. Oh my goodness. This process can induce the kind of panic that is almost heart stopping. The questions. The coordination of all the appointments. The paperwork. The waiting . . . and waiting . . . and more waiting. FEAR! and I mean in a major way! But I'm learning. It may take me a while, but I am learning. Which is why, I have bought a few things. First of all, it's why I've started collecting things for her room. Because it shouts in the face of fear. I also bought a little dress for her. I bought size 24 months. I'm sure that even if she's closer to three than two, it will fit her at some point. It's a summer dress so who knows if the seasons will be right? But again, I'm not giving in to fear.  Beyond that, and more importantly, it's why I pray, but I don't just pray, I quote God's Word. I've found time and time again that there is power in His Word that cannot be found anywhere else. It has the ability to calm and bring peace like nothing I've ever experienced.

So I may still have my moments, but I would say that I am definitely a recovering pessimist on my way to becoming an (eternal?) optimist.

Psalm 18:30

New International Version (NIV)

 ³⁰ As for God, his way is perfect:
   The LORD’s word is flawless;
   he shields all who take refuge in him.

Isaiah 41:10

New International Version (NIV)
¹⁰ So do not fear, for I am with you;
   do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
   I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

That Woman

I never dreamed I would be "that" woman. You know, the one who holds up the grocery store line. What did you think I was talking about?

I should start with an explanation otherwise this will make zero sense. Andrew's preschool sells HEB gift cards as a fundraiser of sorts. They get a percentage of the proceeds, and the more they sell the more mulah they make. There's no catch. You buy the gift cards. You use the gift cards. So I signed up to buy two $100 gift cards each month. I knew that I would easily spend that in groceries. Not a problem.

So yesterday morning I headed to HEB to do some grocery shopping. I was in a hurry mostly because I was starving and didn't want to buy too much junk to feed my ravenous appetite. I may or may not have grabbed a bag of twizzlers, walked around with them, and then put them back on the shelf. I, also, may or may not have bought a box of chocolate covered ice cream cones, which I swore were for Patrick and Andrew but was forced to eat (not the whole box just one) after hearing the Casey Anthony verdict. But we won't go there.

Anway, I managed to make it through my grocery shopping experience with a minimum of dirty looks from people that seemed to think they owned the store (have I ever mentioned that I strongly dislike grocery shopping). I was pretty proud of myself because approximately 3/4 (okay maybe more like 1/2) of my basket was full of healthy items (dog food and 409 don't count either way). So I parked my happy self in line and proceeded to wait.

Once the lady started checking me out, I remembered my HEB gift cards. I knew I had put them in a "safe" place in my purse. Good luck remembering where that "safe" place might be. I started hunting for them. I opened every zipper, every pocket, every secret compartment. No HEB gift cards appeared. At this point, I'm starting to sweat . . . no literally, I was hot and starting to sweat. For one, they were bagging my groceries, and the lady behind me was staring at me none too kindly. And two, and may I add most importantly, I couldn't locate $200 worth of gift cards.

I decided that I would go ahead and use my debit card. I mean, I could use the gift cards in the next couple weeks. It's not like I never go grocery shopping . . . oh wait, it is like I never go grocery shopping . . . I digress (we'll discuss my grocery shopping issues at another time). So I swiped my debit card and went to put it back in my purse when I noticed my HEB cards (right in front of my eyes). Awesome, I figured I could just cancel my transaction and swipe them. Or not! I tried to cancel and couldn't do it. So I asked the checker to do it, and she couldn't either. I told her it was no big deal, but she says, "Oh no, it'll only take a minute. I'll just call the manager." At this point the lady behind me was shooting daggers, and I was apologizing profusely. You think I'm kidding . . . if looks could kill . . . The manager finally showed up and put all these codes into the computer. Apparently, you have to be a secret agent with top level security clearance to clear out someone's transaction. She took a few minutes to clear it out. Meanwhile the line was steadily growing. People were mumbling under their breath. I was hanging my head in shame. Needless to say, I paid and bolted.

While, I was loading my groceries into the car, the lady with the killer death stare walked by with her family, and her son (or grandson) took a moment to burn a hole straight through me. You know, Superman style. I pretended like I didn't see him all the while dripping sweat and turning beat red. I'm cool like that. Anyway, I learned my lesson. From now on, I will send my husband to do all the grocery shopping. I kid, I kid . . . I will never huff or puff, or whine or complain when some poor soul is taking a little longer than they should in the grocery store line. Believe me people, I didn't do it on purpose. And I still plan on sending Patrick to the grocery store.

This post brought to you by women everywhere whose purses are too big and memories are too short.

Also and more importantly: No grocery store checkers and/or baggers were harmed in the very slightly exaggerated writing of this post.

The 4th of July Davis Style

If you're thinking our 4th of July sounds adventuresome and exciting you're going to be dissapointed.  It was actually pretty laid-back, and I somehow managed to make it through the whole day without taking a single picture. No wait . . . I was wrong . . . I did take a single picture after all . . . of the back of my parents' house.

Wow! Now there's a thrilling photo . . .

Anyway, we had a good fourth. We spent the afternoon at my parents'. As usual, we managed to eat way too much. I have the uncanny ability to continue eating even when I feel like I could explode. It's a gift few were given. I would've stopped, but my grandmothers made Italian Cream Cake and Double Choc. Cookies. What's a girl to do?

We didn't make it into the river to swim. No one felt like it before we ate and afterward everyone was too full to move. So we talked and cleaned up the kitchen while the kids played. It was quiet and low-key. My favorite kind of holiday.

Normally, after we finish at my parents' we come back home and meet my in-laws at the park here in town to watch fireworks. Sadly, there were no fireworks this year. It's just too dry. All of the fireworks stands were closed, and most of the surrounding towns and cities cancelled their shows. There were a couple of nearby towns that still had theirs, but frankly, I'm glad ours was cancelled. We have a lot of farm and ranch land near where we live, and it's just not worth the risk of causing a huge fire. We're praying for rain, and if we get some, the show is scheduled for Labor Day.

There's not much else happening in my world. I've been slathering lotion on my hands hoping that it will help my electronic fingerprints to turn out well. I'm also trying not to burn my fingers. I'm a good cook, but I'm a dangerous cook. And I have a bad habit of grabbing hot stuff bare-handed. You would think I would learn. Anyway, after my track record with fingerprinting, I'm just ready for the USCIS appointment to be over and done with. I'm gathering all the paperwork, and trying to get it all ready to be notarized and then apostilled once we get our NBC approval. I've got just over a month until I go back to work. The kiddos don't come until the end of August, but us teachers start right there at the beginning of the month. I know that once school is back in swing I'll be short on time and energy so I need to get as much done now as possible. I'm very thankful that our appointments came as quickly as they did. That was a huge blessing.

Seeing as how I don't have much else to say, and this post is already getting way too exciting (say it with sarcasm people), I think I'll say goodbye for now. Have a great day everyone (just think it's already Tuesday . . . yay for a short work week)!

A Little of This With a Lot of That Added In

I just typed a whole post on education before kindergarten and then deleted it because I thought it may be too controversial. Besides it read more like a newspaper article than a post, and most people don't come here to read newspaper articles. Let's just say that when it comes to a lot of formal education before kindergarten (and even in kinder), I'm not a big fan. I'm more of the school of thinking that feels that until approximately age 6 education should be more about learning through play and life experiences. So those are my feelings in a, very small, nutshell.

Anyway switching subjects entirely, I've been messing with my blog. In case you haven't noticed or don't really care, I thought I'd tell you. I named this blog "Waiting for Bulgaria" with the intention of keeping people posted on the adoption progress. But guess what? There is a lot of down time in adoption. So then I started filling in the gaps with life's happenings, and my somewhat crazy and disjointed stories (you know about being attacked by water hoses and the like). Plus, there are people that actually read all my insanity. Which always shocks me if you want to know the truth. But then I've become paranoid that someone will come here thinking this is an adoption blog, and get mad because it's about a mish-mash of things, a lot of which are adoption related, but some of which aren't. Have I mentioned that I'm overly analytical? Thought so. This is why I've changed my profile and the header 27 times in the last week. I thought about changing the name, but that didn't sit well with me. So instead, I feel I should give people fair warning that yes we are a family "Waiting for Bulgaria", but this blog is not only about the adoption process but about our daily lives as we go through this process. Hence the new info line under the title (if you really want to read it scroll up). Any opinions on the subject?

Now for the Act 3. I'm pretty sure that it would be in our benefit to learn at least some Bulgarian. Seeing as how our daughter will not speak English and will most likely spend her first weeks, maybe even months, trying to figure out how to adjust to her new life, it might behoove us to learn at least a little of her language. For some reason, I mistakenly thought that Rosetta Stone had a Bulgarian Language program. They don't. Our caseworker has given us some information about a set of c.d.s that teach you common phrases. I think this is probably the way to go (at least for me). I'm horrible with languages. Most likely, because I over analyze everything (remember?) and end up other thinking what I'm doing. Not to mention that Bulgarian has a completely different alphabet. And the pronunciation? Don't even get me started. Let's just say, I grew up in Central Texas, where Spanish is widely spoken, and I still can't roll my "r"s. Anyway, so it looks like I'll be ordering those Bulgarian Language c.d.s. Anyone care to join us for Bulgarian 101? (If you can't sleep and want to know more about the history of the Bulgarian Language you can look here.)

Something Worth Reading and A Couple Reality Checks

I didn't blog yesterday. I had a super busy day. I know you were all so dissapointed because you spend your days on the edge of your seats waiting for my latest earth shattering, life changing post. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

However, I do have some blogworthy news in regards to our adoption. We received our biometrics (otherwise known as our fingerprint) appointments yesterday. Yippee! Every step is one step closer. We sent in our I-800A application two weeks and two days ago so I'm really pleased with the turn around. Our appointments are set for the 11th of July in San Antonio which is actually the day Patrick is supposed to leave to take the youth to camp in Dallas. His parents along with the other sponsors are going to take kids to camp, and Patrick will have to drive up that night after our appointments. Not ideal, but it will work.

Now for a reality check. I've had a couple here lately.

Reality Check 1: Money Matters
Yes I get to take maternity leave when we adopt, both of our trips as well as any pre-adoption appointments are covered by FMLA, but unlike last time I will not receive disability pay. Nevermind the fact that I pay a hefty amount toward my disability insurance every month. So I will essentially have 8-10 weeks without any pay. We've always been good about keeping a nice cushion in our savings account, but going that long without any pay will cut into it substantially. Not to mention that adoption isn't cheap . . . not in the least. Having a baby isn't cheap either, but if you have insurance it helps offset the cost and whatever you do owe can be paid out in payments. There are no payment plans in adoption. The result is we are going to have to sacrifice some and save more. Of course that would all change if Patrick sold a really expensive property . . . anyone in the market for a multimillion dollar property? Just kidding . . . I mean unless you really are interested. But in all seriousness, no matter what it takes, it will be worth it once we get to bring our little girl home.

Reality Check 2: Weighty Matters (This isn't meant to be serious, so please don't take it too seriously or be offended by it.)
I'm not 29 anymore. Actually, I'm 30. I turned 30 three weeks ago. I didn't tell you. I'm in denial. I'm also in denial about approximately 5-7 lbs that I may or may not have gained. Ever heard of paper pregnancy? Well I hadn't either. At least not until about a month ago when another adoptive mother mentioned it. Remember how when you were in college and studying all night and you would eat a whole box of Cheez-its and not gain a pound? Well, it doesn't work that way when you're (almost) 30 and doing adoption paperwork.

Anyway, today I had my annual doctor's appointment, and he asked me if I had any concerns. I said, "Well yeah, did you notice I've gained a little weight?" His response? "Me too. I just look at food, and I gain weight." So we spent the next five minutes talking about how we can no longer eat a bag of Oreos without gaining any weight (or at least I did. He probably kept wondering when the crazy lady was going to leave). Then he basically reminded me that I'm 30 (thanks doc.), I've had a baby, and my metabolism has slowed down. He told me not to stress too much over the fact that I'm probably not losing that 5 lbs. And you would think that would depress me, but it didn't. People, I felt liberated. I felt like it's okay to have a bit more jiggle and wiggle than I did before I had Andrew.

So I went shopping, and bought a few things I needed in a size up. Not all my clothes are too tight, but like I said, I've been in denial for a while. Lord have mercy, it's good to button my pants without holding my breath (no I wasn't wearing shirts that showed off my muffin top . . . don't worry). Now this doesn't mean that I'm going to let myself go, stop working out, and eat ice cream all day (wouldn't that be glorious?). What it means is that my days of shortish shorts and bikinis are most likely gone, and I'm okay with that.