Tuesday, July 29, 2014

The World is My Oyster?

I'm so hooked on having access to all these books. Of course, I'd rather have real books (first choice but we have no bookstore and the library here is... lacking) or read them on my Nook Wi-Fi (second choice but these services use some form of DRM--I think--and at any rate I've been too busy reading to look into transferring the files to that device, which, sadly, is the reason I rarely use it these days). So I'll read on the tablet since that's what's on offer.

Anyway, I finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower... yesterday, maybe? Good book, but I fail to see how it would be a good movie and still don't plan to watch it. I'm also (finally) reading Steve Jobs as well as Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman (found in the "Hipster Lit" subsection...and since when do they get their own genre?) and The Kitchen House by Kathleen Grissom ("Oprah approved", which might explain my familiarity with the title, but the further I read, the more I suspect that this book also had the misfortune of being made a movie that I (somewhat vaguely) remember watching on TV as a kid). Needless to say, I've already got a fairly substantial queue going, as well.

Last night I attempted to watch The Grand Budapest Hotel with the guys--James was asleep in about five minutes (granted, he spent yesterday out in the heat painting a house), and, after twenty-five, I decided that if it wasn't based on a book, and I'm pretty sure it is, it should be, because then it might be good. (Addendum: Unsurprisingly, it is, in fact, a book.) So we switched to Robocop. I lasted about ten minutes before deciding James and I had been right about it looking stupid and retreating to the bedroom to read. Two hours later, Josh came in and declared that it was, indeed, stupid. I don't think he actually said "You were right," though.

All of which is to say I'd really just rather be reading. @Oyster

Friday, July 26, 2013

...the waiting is killing me.

So many things in life are hard. Growing up is hard. Telling the truth is hard. Hearing the truth is hard. Trusting is hard. Being responsible is hard. Deciding. Waiting. Believing. Adoption.

Adoption is hard.

You ask yourself: Can we?

What if one of us is laid off? How will we pay the bills? What if the car breaks down? Can we be the ones to take in siblings? Who will stay home when they're sick?

Do we want a boy or a girl? Can we provide for a child who is disabled? On a respirator? With cerebral palsy? Developmental delays? Autism? How about anger? Acting out? Poor academic performance? What if he never speaks? How will we keep him safe from himself? His past?

What about inter-racial adoption? What will we say when his classmates ask why he doesn't look like us? Will our families embrace and accept him? How will we find role models as he grows older? How will we teach him about his race and culture? How will having white parents in a Latino population affect him? What will we do when someone calls him "nigger"?

I'm sure pregnancy comes with its own set of questions. I don't mean to dismiss them, and maybe many of them are the same. I don't know. That's not my life; this is. And when you're choosing to jump into something THIS BIG, with a child who has already been failed in at least one way (and usually many), the questions never end.

And then there's your aching heart.

Every day I see people do things I cannot fathom to children. I read stories of children abandoned, abused, broken. My heart cries out, "Why not me? Why do THOSE people get to have kids?" I supposed nothing is stopping me from having a baby. Then I could be like "everyone else". There would be no pre-test, no application. No classes to pass, no assessments. No home inspections. No lawyers. No bonding with a child over six months, twelve months, eighteen months or more and praying the judge will make him yours.

But I don't want a baby.

I don't want a baby. There are so many people who would give anything for a newborn. Why should I take one from them? I don't need to raise a child from birth for him to be my own. I don't need a clean slate. I don't want that. I want the child someone threw away. The one someone failed. The one they missed out on. That child is amazing. That child will do amazing things. That is my child.

My heart aches for him. My arms long to hold him. I can't wait to meet him. The waiting is killing me.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

G-d is teaching me...

...to stop demanding my way for the High Way. Things I've recently been devastated by have not only been turning around, they've been turning better than I even imagined.

I'll share the big things as they're confirmed, but today's "little things" were pretty great, too: I didn't lose my job or my chances of moving up over a scheduling mistake, and I got to spend the afternoon with Josh, James, Payton, Perry, Megan, and her daughter. It felt wonderful to relax by the pool and watch them just be kids. Together.

Bonus: James shared his final grades: four Bs, two Cs. I'm very proud of how hard he worked to turn his semester around. Of course I miss him, but I'm thrilled that he's doing well at his cousin's, and I'm glad he can be with his "brothers" there. All I want for him is everything!

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

AdoptUSKids.org Celebrates 20,000 Foster Children Adopted Through Website (INFOGRAPHIC)

For children in foster care available for adoption, and for whom no adoptive family has been identified, AdoptUSKids.org serves as a tool for connecting their caseworkers with prospective adoptive families. Over the last decade, 20,000 children previously photolisted on the website have been placed with adoptive families. AdoptUSKids is a service of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services and Administration for Children and Families.

Infographic for AdoptUSKids Celebrating 20,000 Children Placed With Adoptive Families

Sunday, June 16, 2013

The longest goodbye...

The last of his stuff is packed, waiting to be picked up. His grandma's pendant polished, like new. The things he borrowed and never returned, those are ready to go, too. I know there will be others, forever, for a while, someday to fill my heart. But right now, the tears make believing it hard.