The Evolution of a Mother

When I got married I drove a cute, two door Pontiac Grand Am. (Patrick drove a Ford Mustang, in case you care. He still thinks he needs one . . . he's in denial.) Now I drive a Chevy Traverse (which rocks by the way) and my husband not so lovingly calls it the SUVan. Whatever! I will never drive a mini-van. (No offense is meant by that statement. Mini-vans are awesome!)

When we bought our house we had a completely empty bedroom, a guest room, and workout room/office. Now we have a playroom, a guest room/workout room/future baby's room, and a three year old boy's bedroom.

In our first few years of marriage we went to San Francisco a couple times, skiing in Tahoe, to Kauai, Hawaii, South Padre Island, and anywhere else we wanted. We ate when we wanted, shopped when we wanted, and stayed up as late as we wanted (Why would anyone in their right mind get up at 6:30 if they don't have to? Oh yeah, news flash, three year olds are not in their right minds). We used to avoid hotels with lots of "noisy" kids. Now we search them out. The more pee in the pool, the better (you can laugh . . . that was a joke). But in case you didn't know "kid friendly" is code for lots of pee in the pool. I'm just letting you know in advance. Don't worry they use tons of chlorine at "kid friendly" hotels. It's set my eyes on fire more than once.

So what's the point of all this? Am I whining? Actually, no. But as I was leaving Sam's today, with a cart full of food, and a three year old by the hand, it occurred to me how much my life has changed since I got married almost 8 years ago. I used to take a day off of work for myself every so often and save the rest. Now I'm lucky if I make it to May with any sick days left. I've spent so much time in the pediatrician's office in the last 3.5 years that we should have our own room. They could call it the Davis Suite. Sounds good doesn't it?

Our lives are now dictated by nap times, bed times, lunch times, gymnastics classes, swimming lessons . . . you get the picture. My idea of a fun night is to take a hot bath without Andrew bustin' in on me and to get in bed by ten p.m. Try to contain your jealousy. You only wish your life were so exciting.

But as crazy as it all seems, I don't miss my pre-child life (at least not on most days). The other day, I was driving, alone shockingly enough, and Darius Rucker's song "It Won't Be Like This for Long" came on the radio. And as I'm listening to it, I realized that Andrew is almost four. Four! Years! Old! Tears. And then I realized that I'll be 30 in a few days. Thirty! Flood of tears (again I'm joking . . . sort of). And then I realized, that time really does fly by. And it is such a terrifying honor to be a parent, and watch a child grow into an adult.

I'm not the same person I was 8 years ago. I have the wrinkles, bags, spider veins, and a few pounds to prove it. But my life is more blessed, more complete, and more meaningful on it's worst days than it ever was before.

Opening It Up to Questions (and some prayer requests)

Here's a few questions and answers on children adopted from Bulgaria. Most of the information is taken from Creating a Family's Website - "25 Factors to Consider When Adopting From Bulgaria". Have to give credit where credit is due. If you click on the link you can see other questions and answers, but keep in mind that most the information is from May 2009 so some may not be current. For example it states wait times to be 18 months, but we now know that they are between 24-36 months.

What descent/race are the children being adopted?
"Most children are of Roma (Gypsy) ethnicity or Turkish decent, with dark skin tones.  Prospective parents are not allowed to request ethnicity or skin tone, and must be open to all children of any ethnicity." - Creating A Family

How are the children cared for?
Most of the children reside in orphanages although the country is trying to move toward a foster care system.

Why are the children given up for adoption?
"Unwed motherhood, poverty, cultural acceptance of abandonment.  Most of the children available for international adoption from Bulgaria were relinquished or abandoned at birth and have not been removed from the home due to abuse and neglect." - Creating a Family

What is the youngest age a child can be adopted?

Enjoy the rest of your weekend everyone.

18 months - According to some recent information, there may be a move to allow even younger children to be adopted.

If you have any questions at all regarding adoption, why we adopted, or anything else about us in general please feel free to leave the question in the comments, email me, or facebook me. If I think the question is too personal or off limits, I'll let you know, but feel free to ask away. I'll try to answer them as best as I can in an upcoming post. If no one asks, then I'll assume I've done a pretty good job of keeping ya'll informed.

I also have a couple prayer requests. First, the FBI clearance still hasn't made it into our mailbox. Please pray that it gets here. Our mail has been known to get "lost" on occassion. Second, pray that we get everything completed by the time I go back to work on August 9. That gives us a two month window, which is doable, but it doesn't leave any room for error. And we have a deadline of September so we need to get this done. Also, pray that I'll have favor at work both now and when it comes time to travel. I'm pretty sure I'm covered by FMLA, but I really don't want to have a confrontation with anyone. Sometimes I feel like certain people in positions of power don't understand that this is just as important as having a baby biologically. I'm not going to go into detail. I'm just asking for your prayers.

No Heads Will Be Removed During the Reading of this Post

Don't worry I'm not going to berate anyone today. You can even ask me if I've heard anything about our baby, I won't eat you for lunch. I promise. I was in a very sarcastic mood yesterday. It happens sometimes. It was just annoyance with a myriad of little things. Which I'm (mostly) over now. King Kong the witch is dead or at least sleeping soundly! If you missed all that fun and really want to know what I'm talking about you can read here, but I warn you it ain't pretty.

So if you are following the story of Kirill, the second part is posted here. The miracle of this story never ceases to amaze me. God is still in the mountain moving business. No doubt about it.

I'm hoping my FBI clearance is in today's mail. I'm really thankful that I don't have to redo my fingerprints. I've mildly burnt my fingers in the past couple of weeks, and I don't think they would turn out very good. The thing is, I don't think they were that great any of the times they were done. Another testament to God being able to move mountains. I know that it may not seem like a big thing, but when you're dealing with something so essential, albeit basic, to the process, it is a big thing. The quality of the fingerprints or lack thereof wasn't anyone's fault, I cook a lot and seem to have scars on my fingers as a result. They're not noticeable, and it would never matter except if I were to commit a felony or decide to adopt internationally. I decided that committing a felony wasn't really my thing so I went down the adoption road. I'm not sure how I got to the previous sentence. I kind of just started typing and that's were I ended up. A scary look into the inner workings of my mind.

Andrew just asked when his baby sister was coming. Oh the irony. Not to mention that the concept of time is not really present at three years old. Everything is either, and I quote, "yast night" or "tomorrow" (yes I intentionally spelled last yast). Don't worry he'll forget and ask me again tomorrow. He's awesome like that.

Anyway, one of the next steps will involve electronic fingerprinting with NBC and submitting our I-800A. I'm still not entirely clear on who NBC is . . . I haven't tried that hard to figure it out. If you can't tell, I'm kind of being led like a horse with blinders on. Look straight ahead and follow instructions. No birdwalking here. The good news is, the first half of our paperwork is done. The bad news is we still have about half of the paperwork and approval process left to go. Either way, we are moving forward.

Please continue to keep us in your prayers, and if you'll just say a brief prayer for adoptive families in general, I promise it will be greatly appreciated. There are so many obstacles to overcome, but we know that "with God all things are possible" (taken from Matthew 19:26).

Beware of Grumpy (almost) 30 Year Olds

Edit: If you didn't know I was loony before, you know it now. I just realized I put 2010 instead of 2011 for the current year. Loopy!

So I got a cute dress at Target the other day. It's high waisted and purple and flowy, and though I rarely buy clothes from Target (I'm short and they don't fit me right), it fit and I bought it. I wore said cute dress to church last night, and while wearing what I thought was my new, cute, summer dress, someone asked me if I was pregnant. Actually I believe the words this person used were "with child". Say what?!? Excuse me??? First of all, no not in the physical sense! And second of all what century are we living in? It's okay to say pregnant and breast feeding (ahhh - my ears, my ears) and all that stuff. The thing is, while this made me, well, extremely uncomfortable (for her not so much for myself), it did not faze this person in the least bit. I would've dropped dead from embarrassment if I'd made that kind of mistake. But she just kept truckin' on as if it were no big deal. Yikes! You just asked me if I was pregnant. Have the decency to hang your head in shame. I kid, I kid! But in all honesty, here's a word of advice . . . never, I mean never, ask a woman if she is pregnant unless she is about to pop! And even then, you are treading on thin ice. Anyone in the market for a non-maternity dress that makes you look pregnant? Because it sure ain't me!

My husband asked me if I told her we were adopting, and I said "no, I was too busy sucking in my stomach". That's a joke (sort-of). Feel free to laugh (or not). I certainly don't mind telling people we're adopting, but it seems like once I tell someone, I keep telling them over and over again that this is a long process. As in 2-3 years long. As in we won't know anything about her until 18 months to 2.5 years for now. As in I'm going to start wearing a sign around my neck.

Yes, we are adopting!

The whole process takes 2-3 years . . . we started in February 2011.

2011 + 3 = 2014

Thank you and have a nice day!

I'm not trying to sound sarcastic (okay maybe a little) and ungrateful (because I really am grateful for all of your prayers and support), but in all seriousness, we are still working on paperwork, which is a long tedious process. And that long tedious process is followed by an even longer wait, when we most likely won't hear a thing from anyone but our adoption caseworker once a month. I'm very glad that people are interested, but please don't ask me if we've heard anything about our baby. Believe me if we hear about her and are free to share, I'll shout it from the mountaintops. Have no doubt about that. Please feel free to ask me where we are in the process or to explain how all this craziness works or what's next. If I have the answer, and understand what I'm talking about (hey, even if I don't know what I'm talking about), I'll be happy to tell you.  

And that's a post from a grumpy woman. Between being asked if I'm pregnant (which I live in mortal fear of everyday - I did not enjoy pregnancy - sorry if you loved it - and I'm halfway kidding here), and having a sunburn that is somewhere between stinging and itching like crazy, I'm a little on the grumpy side. Excuses, excuses. Can I get some sympathy people?

Don't worry I'll get over it! Have a great evening everyone.

A Little of This and A Little of That

Preface: This post was written on and off over the course of an hour to an hour and a half. If it sounds disjointed that's why.
And now for your reading pleasure . . .

When Patrick finally gets around to leaving for work, I'm going to call the FBI again. I don't want to call while he's here. He'll give me some speech about how the FBI is now "watching" me. Well they can watch away. I'm not that interesting. Just get me my stinkin fingerprints. Please . . .

In other news, the story of Kirill's adoption being approved by the Supreme Court in Russia is nothing short of a miracle. Because I know there is no way I can explain it better than his new mama, you can read about it here. Be forewarned she's posting in parts and left us with a cliffhanger last time.

Did everyone have a good Memorial Day? We did. Thank goodness. After Andrew being so sick, I wasn't sure we would, but on Sunday he perked up and by Monday he was back to his normal happy self. We went to my parent's. Their home is on the river (as if there's only one in Texas), and we grilled some hot dogs, the food of champions, and then all plopped down in the middle of the river. The river is pretty low due to bad drought conditions here in Texas so it made it relatively easy to sit down. So far that's the only thing I've found that is even remotely good about the lack of rain, and even that won't be good for long (if the river gets too low there won't be much swimming going on). Pray for rain. Anyway, we spent a couple hours out there, and for some reason, I forgot that I don't tan and didn't put on sunscreen. Smart, I know. I'm paying for it.

My husband grilling up some dogs on the deck. Yo!

The view from one of the front porches. Yeah, that's a steep drop! (And that's off a corner. There is some grass and a yard, and no child has ever even come close to rolling down the drop-off. We keep a close eye them don't worry.)

The view from the deck. Again, a very steep drop! (And you can't see them, but to get down to the river you go down a very large set of steps that comes off of the front porches. If ever you want a good workout, that's the way to go.)

My Dad, my nephew, Anthony, and Andrew and for the record they are sitting.

What 2 hours of playing the river will do to you (in case you're wondering my Dad is shelling cream peas - yum!).

Okay, Patrick just walked out the door. Time to call the FBI. I'm debating whether or not to put them on speaker phone. Did you see the story about cell phones and brain cancer on GMA this morning? We don't even have a landline anymore. Nevermind, it might annoy the customer service lady to be on speaker phone. Okay here goes. If you'll kindly wait a moment I'll tell you what they say. And . . . everybody do the happy dance. It is on it's way. It was completed correctly! Hallelujah!

Well I'd better go start printing out adoption forms and email our caseworker and home study agency. It's time to get this ball rolling.