The State of Our Adoption (post number "?")

* Last Saturday we went to the circus. I did take pictures, but my camera along with my memory card is at the school. So the circus pics will have to wait. 

Today is September 1st. This month marks one year since our Dossier was registered in Bulgaria. One year down, who knows how many more to go? I wish I had a better timeline, but I don't. The good news is the older I get the more quickly each year passes. Hopefully, it won't be two full more years, but there is always the possibility. Sometimes, the wait seems to be forever, but then we get busy with work and school and soccer (something else I need to post pictures of) and church, and time becomes a blur.

One of the couples from our adoption agency was in Bulgaria this week to meet their son and daughter. I was so encouraged by the good things they had to say about the orphanage. It's reassuring to think that the kids are loved and cared for and makes it easier on a mama's heart to know this. If you're interested, you can read more about their journey here.

So that's it. That's the update. I wish there was more, but there isn't. Bulgaria's summer break is about over, and we're hoping that the ball gets rolling and referrals start coming in here pretty soon. Of course, there's always the first couple of weeks where they play catch up.

And just to add some spice to this post, here's a teaser iPhone pic of Andrew at the circus . . . he has blue cotton candy on his lips. I made him eat every bite. That stuff was ridiculously expensive. Great mom I am, if I'm gonna buy you pure sugar darn-it you're gonna eat it.

That's What I Love About Saturday

Every Saturday morning (and every other morning that we don't have somewhere to be . . . which isn't too often), Andrew gets in our bed around 7:00 if we're lucky . . .  if we're not it's more like 6:15. He usually lays there for about 2.5 seconds before he asks to watch cartoons.

This morning, he was laying in bed with us watching Wacky Races, and I was reminded of a morning when he was just a tiny little guy. It was a Saturday morning, and I guess he was around 8 weeks old. He had had his morning bottle, and I laid him in bed beside me. Patrick had to leave to go show houses, and so it was just the two of us. I turned on the t.v., and Andrew laid there beside me and watched the fan smiling and trying to coo for over an hour.

These are just random pictures of Andrew as a baby . . . they have nothing to do with the story.

There's nothing spectacular about this memory. It was a normal Saturday morning, but it is stands out as one of my most cherished memories. Actually, it's not just this memory that I cherish, but these Saturday mornings. Whether Andrew is 8 weeks or 4 years old, it's not about the places we go or the things we do. It's not about organized family outings, activities, or vacations (and Heaven knows I love vacations). It's about Saturday mornings watching cartoons in bed. It's about going out to breakfast in our sweats on Christmas Eve. It's about toys all over the kitchen, and not getting dressed until three in the afternoon (which I consider a luxury). It's about taking each moment at face value and not wishing it away. It's about the everyday, mundane things in life.

That's what I love about Saturday . . .

And yes, I totally stole this title from Craig Morgan's song That's What I Love About Sunday.

So . . .

I know my blog posts have been slightly uninspired lately. For one, we are definitely in the waiting phase of the whole adoption process. Which means that there won't be too many updates until we receive a referral. Unless we were to decide to adopt a waiting child, which is always a possibility, we will most likely wait at least 20 months for a referral. Could the process speed up? Sure it could, and we're praying it does. But I also believe that we have to be realistic. Which is why this blog is called Waiting for Bulgaria . . . it is the story of our lives as we wait for our little girl to come home.

Other than that, I've just been wiped out and stressed out lately. I love it when people make comments about teachers having it easy because they have summers off. I usually have to resist the urge to throttle them. I don't think people realize the enormous amount of stress and pressure that is on teachers (at least here in Texas) right now (and just so you know, it has very little to do with the kids). By the end of the day, I'm often too wiped out to write anything of any substance. Sorry.

This weekend has been nice. We didn't have much going on yesterday so Andrew and I went and got barbecue and ice cream with Patrick at lunchtime. Then for dinner, even though we were still stuffed, I made shrimp gumbo. Which was awesome if I do say so myself. ;)

This morning Andrew's school, which is at the Lutheran Church in town, had preschool Sunday. The kids sang a few songs and received a preschool Sunday shirt, and then there was a picnic lunch, a train, and games. It was a beautiful day, and it was a lot of fun. I took quite a few pictures, but I'm only going to post the ones that just have Andrew in them. I don't like putting up pictures of other peoples' kids unless I'm sure it is okay with them.

Very serious . . . getting ready to perform.

Singing . . . or at least he's supposed to be singing.

Trying to hula-hoop. This is about the extent of his hula-hooping skills.

I don't think this one needs a comment . . . it totally speaks for itself. :)

Well, I hope everyone had a great weekend, and I hope you have a fabulous work week. Adios folks.

The Time I Forgot My Child's Name

Have I ever told y'all about the time I forgot my child's name? I can't remember so I'm telling you, and I apologize if you've heard it all before.

So Andrew made his dramatic entrance on a Saturday morning. You can read all about that drama here if you feel so inclined. The condensed version is, he was born five weeks early by emergency C-Section before the sun came up on the morning of October 6, 2007. In the first few hours of his life, we were led to believe that he would be in the hospital at least two weeks. After 24 hours in the NICU, we were told he would only stay a week. After 48 hours in the NICU, the doctors decided to move him to the nursery for observation and send him home with me the next day.

Exciting? Ummm, well he weighed 4.5 lbs at that point, he was 17 inches long, he didn't fit in his carseat, I had nothing ready at home . . .

Not to mention, I was a hormonal mess. I mean you name it, I had it. Hotflashes . . . check. Tears . . . check. Nerves . . . I had them too. Mood swings . . . what would life be without them?

So it made perfect sense to send me home with a premature baby that was 35 weeks and 3 days and weighed less than your average bag of flour. Perfect sense I tell ya.

Tuesday morning rolled around. At that point, I was psyched to go. I figured we might as well get the show on the road so to speak. Yeah, the doctors and nurses weren't in nearly as big of a hurry. It took us forever to get checked out. Finally, around two in the afternoon, we were ready to move out. I pilfered as much as I could from the nursery cart . . . two hats, a shirt, diapers, formula, wipes (don't judge, the nurse said I could take whatever I wanted) . . . and settled comfortably into the wheelchair. Patrick handed our little bundle of joy to me, and a sweet "older" lady (I think she was like 55 . . . I kid . . . she was at least 60 . . . again, I kid . . . she was definitely in her seventies) came to push me out.

While she was rolling me out, she made small talk. You know your normal questions . . . When was he born? What time? How much did he weigh? How long was he in the NICU? I was batting 1000. My hormonal sleep deprived brain knew all the answers. Then she asked me the question . . . the easiest question ever . . . the question to which I had created the answer . . . "what is his name?".

"His name? Well, ummm his name is . . . well it's . . . " Dangit! I had forgotten his name. I spent hours stressing about his name. I knew it's meaning. I had it written in his baby book. But could I remember it? Nope, all I could think was, "It starts with an A . . . Anthony's name starts with an A, but Anthony's my nephew not my son. What is this kid's name?"

I was starting to panic. Remember those hotflashes? I was sweating enough to fill the Mississippi. I should've just screamed out, "Anthony". The lady never would've known the difference. Patrick might've thought I was nuts, but then again it wasn't like he was helping me out. It was becoming very obvious that I couldn't remember my own child's name while my husband, my in-laws, and some "older" lady that I would never see again looked on.

After approximately two or three minutes, that seemed like twenty or thirty minutes, the lady started to laugh and said, "It's okay hon. It's just the hormones."

I smiled and mumbled something to the effect of, "Yes, it's just the hormones . . . I'm not crazy at all . . . now would someone please tell what the heck this kid's name is?"

Not to worry, once we were in the car, my memory returned. And just so you know, no one ever helped me out and volunteered his name. You would think someone would've said, "Andrew . . . his name's Andrew you moron." But nope, no help from anyone. That's fine I have a memory like an elephant . . . except for this one time . . . and maybe a few others . . .

Disclaimer: This is in no way a reflection my parenting skills. Which are stellar . . . just in case you're wondering.

Happy Birthday to My Little Superhero

Before you were born I prayed for you. I prayed everyday that you would be healthy and strong. You came into this world five weeks early weighing 4 lbs 13 oz and measuring only 17 inches long.

You weren't too happy to be here. (October 6, 2007 3:51 a.m.)

But, honey, you were healthy, and you were strong.

 (November 2007)

(December 2007)

 

Soon you were a rolly polly ball of laughs. (January 2008 - 3 months old)

Your chubby little cheeks were hard to resist. (April 2008)

And those baby blues are were to die for. (July 19, 2008)

And you definitely have the coolest hair of any kid I know. (September 2008)

 Before we knew it, your first birthday rolled around. (October 2008)

And soon you were walking and trying to fill your Daddy's shoes. (December 2008)

Your second Christmas came with lots of excitement. (December 2008)

And in July of 2009 you went on your first airplane ride and loved every minute of it.

You grew so fast, and two years passed in a flash. (October 2009)



As you grew, so did your personality and your great sense of humor. (December 2009)

(Summer 2010)

In October of 2010, we celebrated your third birthday.

And your fourth Christmas was full of fun. (December of 2010)

(June 2011)

(September 2011)

It's hard to believe you're turning four. You are the greatest little boy in the world. You are my little Superhero. Happy fourth birthday Buddy! I love you.

"For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition which I asked of Him."

 1 Samuel 1:27

"Radshack, Meshach, Abedneco"

The story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego as told by an almost four year old . . .

A Story and Other Stuff

A Story
On Monday, Andrew was chilling with my parents on their deck when he decided to inform them that when he grows up he's gettin' a motorcycle. Okay, when he grows up  . . .  that's a few years away.

Then he went on to say, "And when I bes four, I bes growed up, so I'm getting a motorcycle. My mommy will probably cry, but that's okay. My daddy will let me."

Well then, not quite sure what to make of that one other than the fact that (1) we clearly have some major grammar issues to work out before college kindergarten, and (2) I am apparently the uptight responsible parent, while my husband is the cooler one. "My mommy will probably cry"??? Thanks for the sensitivity.

Other Stuff
I'm sorry if my blog posts have been slightly uninspired lately. If I'm boring you to death, I apologize. There isn't really much going on in the way of the adoption. Our Dossier is still in translation. We had to get new medical letters, and our doctor has them ready so we'll pick them up on Monday. They, of course, must be apostilled before we send them off. It's a bit of a hassle, but not that big of a deal. Please keep praying for a quick referral and for referrals in general to pick up.

For those of you following the fires, the largest fire, the Bastrop Complex Fire, is 40% contained. The fire closest to us is 100% contained. Containment does not necessarily mean that the fire has been put out, but rather that it is contained within a perimeter (I'm not a firefighter, but I'm doing my best to understand this). Unfortunately, for Bastrop, and other large (and small) wildfires in Texas, there are many homes within those lines of containment. Almost 1400 homes have been lost in the Bastrop Complex Fire alone. The amount of loss is staggering, and emotionally draining. So many people are left with no physical possessions. And by the way, I hate the comment, "well they're just things, at least they have their lives." Seriously? Let someone take away everything you have right down to your toothbrush and underwear, and then see how you feel. Yes, lives are the most important thing you can save and material possessions can be replaced. But basic needs, physical, emotional, and spiritual, still have to be met, and right now, the need is overwhelming. Sorry, rant over. Please continue to pray for relief and rain for Texas. We need it desperately.

)

(This photo has been circulating all over facebook and the internet. If you know who took it, I'll gladly give credit.)

In slightly less nail-biting news, I keep forgetting things. It's not necessarily because I'm becoming more forgetful. At least that's what I tell myself . . . we'll go with it. It's really because I run around like a chicken with no head and start too many different things. You know, you'll be taking clothes out of the dryer and remember that you meant to clean the fingerprints off the t.v. screen (not that there are fingerprints on ours). So you decide to go take care of that really quickly, and then you remember that you meant to clean out your child's humidifier that hasn't been cleaned in a week. And while you're doing that you decide to go ahead and clean out the two week old casserole in the refrigerator and wash the dishes from breakfast. And two hours later you remember that you had clothes in the dryer. I think I may be slightly, okay a lot, ADD . . . at least on 9 days out of10.

Y'all I started a load of laundry yesterday, but never actually "started" it. Then when I got home, I was in such a ridiculous hurry, that I put dry, unwashed clothes in the dryer. I realized it when I got home last night, and the lights on the washing machine were still flashing for me to push start. Great! I'm officially looney. Please tell me I'm not alone in this???

Okay, I've got six million things to start and not finish. Have a great Saturday everyone.

Four Year Pictures

On October 6th Andrew will turn four. Seriously!?! In just a little under a month my little boy is turning four. I feel a strong case of denial coming on here. I wonder how he'd take it if I swaddled him and stuck a bottle in his mouth? Probably wouldn't go over too well . . .

Anyway, every year I spend much dinero to get his pictures taken by a professional, but this year I decided that before I hauled the child to Austin, licked my hand and slicked down his cowlick, and forced him to smile for a stranger, I would give the whole picture taking thing a go myself. I did this for a few reasons. One, we're trying to save money when and where we can. Two, I really wanted to get some more "natural" shots of him, and my parents live on the river (I say "the" as if you know which one I'm talking about) and have some great picture taking spots. Three, Patrick and I both have cameras that were a big investment (his is a Digital SLR and mine is Panasonic Lumix Point and Shoot, super zoom, blah, blah, blah, etc.) so it would make sense for us to actually put those suckers to good use.

I ended up taking all of the pictures with my camera, because someone (ahem, my husband) wouldn't give up the other camera, and all of his pictures turned out goofy. Overall, I was really pleased. I mean I'm not going to quit my day job, but I think I got some frameable prints.

Because he is such a huge superhero fan we started out in the Superman shirt.

That's Anthony, my nephew. I'm not hiding some kid in the closet that no one knows about.

From this point on he was over it. Which is why the pictures aren't in focus, and there's a stick involved.

"Hey Mom, watch me I'm a inja." Yes I meant to type "inja".

 

"Don't mess with me . . . I've got a stick and I know how to use it!"

So there you have it. Not too shabby huh? If you disagree keep it to yourself. We'll all be happier that way. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in the corner crying over some of my child's preemie clothes.