|Get the !#%*&^ away from me.|
|I WANT SOME GODDAMN CHOCOLATE!|
|THE PUPPEH COMMERCIAL SO SAD |
AND KYUUTE BWWAHHHHH
|Do we have to keep the thermostat set at |
'Turkish Steambath' for &;^#$!*'s sake?
Owait, now I'm cold!
I’ve decided to focus in another direction. I know I have complained that adoption is too expensive, but there is a woman at my barn who has two adopted daughters, Amy & Jade. She adopted them from the state. She explained the program to me, and I was astonished. I’ve always steered away from fostering because I don’t want to get attached only to have the child ripped away from me so they can go back to meth-mouth mom who is only tenuously clean at the moment. I worked non-profit many years with at-risk kids, diversions kids, troubled kids, and god if it didn’t take everything out of me. It became increasingly difficult to take these kids home each night to abusive and neglectful households, to see them with bruising and old eyes, and to be powerless to do anything about it. I eventually had to quit that job because I would just go home crying every day. I also watched my aunt provide short-term fostering for troubled kids, and that was a whole other ball of wax. I certainly don’t want to deal with a hostile, violent teenager.
So as tempted as I was to set up my little spare bedroom into a kid’s room and to invite a foster child into our home; I couldn’t quite do it. But the state adoption program is completely different. You foster your prospective adoptee before the adoption is complete, and by the time they actually come to your home as a foster child, their parents have already given up parental rights—so chances are, if you fall in love with the kid and they settle in, you won’t lose them. So I’ve signed us up for the required seminars for people who want to foster and adopt from the state of Oregon. I’ve registered us, and we think it’s okay if the kid is a little older. I think 0-4 maybe. I’m not sure about older, honestly. I feel awful saying it, but as a guardian of a developmentally disabled adult, and the overseer for a completely crazy senior demon (aka Satan/Mother), I don’t know if I can handle a really angry, troubled kid on top of all that. I know, it’s selfish... but growing up with my brother taught me a great deal, and I’m not sure if I want to replicate that kind of stress and destruction in my household for the rest of my life. It was enough already taking care of him well into my twenties. And I saw what it did to my parent’s marriage (which already sucked to begin with).
It’s an option, I guess. I know me, I’m completely soft-hearted and I’m going to get all invested in it. I have been excited thinking about it, and there’s no guarantee we’ll even be granted adoption to anyone. But yes, I’m already looking at tiny patterns for pea-coats and dresses... adorable mary-janes and toys... books... I have to stop. But I can’t. I have this idea that I might finally have someone specific to paint all these office specials for. The thought of it makes my eyes burn with tears of anticipation, and we haven’t even gotten to the first step. I guess I selfishly just want to be a mom SO bad. To teach a child to ride on a pony, to sing them songs to sleep, to read them ‘The Velveteen Rabbit’ and to finally have a someone to give all the Beatrix Potter collection, the miniature silverware set, the handmade wooden rattle to that I’ve collected over the years in anticipation of becoming a mom.
We shall see. I’m trying not to get excited about either option. I hear all these stories of women who go through all this, and then they get their adopted baby and find out they’re pregnant... that would be inconvenient, but it wouldn’t suck either, but there’s a possibility neither of those things could happen for us. No pregnancy, no adoption. So if you happen to see me swooning over huge stuffed bugs in the IKEA kids section, smack me upside the head and send me to the kitchen department.