wandering in the desert

I’ll jump right in. I find myself feeling like a failure on a daily basis as a parent. I wonder constantly if the issues that we face, Gallo and I, are simply the issues all families face or if they are a result of his adoption. Want an opinion? Surf the ‘net. Any opinion you want will be revealed.

This is normal two-year-old behavior. He’s establishing boundaries. He feels secure acting out at home. I’m doing everything right. Consistency is what he needs. Providing a safe place for him to explore his emotions.

He’s grieving his adoption. He doesn’t know how to put into the words the pain he is feeling. He’s angry. He hasn’t bonded with me. He will always have adoption trauma.

I have no idea what to think or how to feel about the going’s on in my house right now. As much as it sounds like it, this is not about me. I want to do what I can to make Gallo happy, to feel safe and loved. I have read dozens of books. They all have conflicting information. I’m truly seeking insight.

Gallo appears to be fully bonded with his father. He sees Mr. Beans as his primary care giver. I think it goes back to the second trip we made to Guatemala when we brought him home. The second night we were there I got sick – some stomach thing. It was hard enough for me to get out of bed without barfing everywhere. Besides, I didn’t know what it was (virus, food poisoning, etc.) and was afraid to make Gallo sick. So Mr. Beans took over. He changed Gallo; he fed him; he bathes him. Daddy took care of everything – including Mommy! We all got through it and came home.

Once home, Mommy stayed home from work for six weeks and became primary care giver. Mr. Beans was in school so he was home a lot in between classes and studying. Gallo got every bit of attention and focus. I was definitely nervous as a first-time mom and doubted my abilities all the time. Nonetheless, I plowed my way through it. Mr. Beans, already having two boys before Gallo, felt completely confident in his parenting abilities. Maybe Gallo picked up on that. I don’t know.

From the very beginning Mr. Beans and I split parenting responsibilities. We alternated bottles, baths and diaper changes to preparing meals, doing story time and putting him down for naps. Mr. Beans has gone out of town for a few days; so have I. We have long talks about one of us leaving then coming back. We talk about trips for days before they happen. We explain any changes in routines. Even if we thought he wouldn’t understand, we talked about it anyway.

Let me segue here to say that I have a degree in psychology. I have spent my entire adult life working with individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities. I understand developmental stages in various populations. I have written numerous behavioral intervention programs for countless individuals, many of which had the developmental capacity of a two year old or younger. And the plans worked when followed by the staff that had to implement them. This isn’t to flaunt my resume. I’m saying all of this to explain I’ve not only got a bunch of book knowledge; I’ve got real world experience. Unfortunately at my house, I’m not having the same success. And I’m starting to wonder if it’s something more.

What’s got me rambling is this current behavioral situation:

Gallo has begun to refuse to do anything for me. Every time I ask him to do anything he says “no.” Time to take a bath? Time to go pee in the potty? Time to wash hands? Help Mommy pick up the toys? “no”

No big deal. He’s two.

Problem is that he sets in his heals and then ends up in a rage. Let’s take bath time. After dinner he takes a bath. This has been the same routine for two years now. He gets down from the table and I tell him to go to his room to get ready for bath.

“No”

I ask him two-three times and waiting approximately 10-15 seconds between each request. He says “no” or ignores me.

I then physically escort him to his room. I calmly make a request. “Take off your shirt.” I wait. I get a “no” and then he either ignores me or more often than not, he glares at me – completely challenging my authority or request or whatever you want to call it.

I then make the request again. Same response from him. I then tell him either he takes his shirt off or Mommy is going to do it. He says no and I then physically remove his shirt. As soon as I start to remove his shirt he starts crying and screaming “No I do it!” If I stop and allow him to do it, he sits there. If I request that he take off his shirt. He goes back to “no.’ If I start to remove it, he begins to scream “No I do it.” This cycle will repeat as many times as I stop to allow him to do it.

We do this for each stage of the routine: his pants, his pull up, going to the bathroom to sit on the potty; getting into the bathtub, allowing my to bathe him, drying off, brushing teeth, getting pjs on.

My reaction each time is the same. I make the request twice, waiting in between 10-15 seconds. I repeat the request each time using the exact same words and tone of voice – remaining calm. On the third go round, I give him the option of doing it himself or Mommy is going to do it. He says no; I do it; he screams; repeat.

In the evening situation, he ends up hysterical and screaming through the whole nighttime process. We finally get to his room where I’m exhausted and he’s out of control. He’s not even looking at me; he’s crying and sobbing and inconsolable. I usually end up holding him to me talking quietly “calm down… use your words… tell Mommy what’s wrong…’ Eventually he gets it together. I try to talk about listening to Mommy, following directions, not hitting or screaming or whatever he was doing. He sits quietly and listens but as soon as I stop talking he will then make some random comment “What color is that?” etc. as if to say – yeah, ok, that’s all over. New topic. We sit in his chair, chat for a bit, sing some songs (he listens to a CD as he goes to sleep), then we have “last song” and he goes into his bed. We have our nightnight rituals (blanket, duck, tuck him in, love you, etc.)

I then head for the liquor cabinet.

He doesn’t do this with Daddy. Mr. Beans gets a little farting around but that’s about it. No major melt down. No hysterics.

Daycare:
Mr Beans picks him up and he runs to him. He’s excited and rattles off his day. When I pick him up, he sees me, gets happy for a split second, the frowns and asks “where’s Daddy?”

He often tells me at dinner; “You don’t talk to Daddy.” I finally asked him who gets to talk to Daddy and he tells me “Gallo talks to Daddy.”

Recently in the mornings he has begun to say he wants to “stay with Daddy” rather than go to school.

The biggest development of late is his suddenly saying, “Don’t go anywhere Daddy”: and “Don’t leave” even when no one is going anywhere. We can just be sitting in the living room and he’ll announce that. He’s never saying this to me. In the mornings when I leave for work he just wants a hug and a kiss and tells me bye-bye. One evening in his room while we were rocking he informs me “I miss Daddy.” (Mr Beans had a late evening and wasn’t home for dinner and didn’t come home until after Gallo went to bed. This doesn’t happen often.) I ask “Did you miss Daddy at dinner?” He then says “I miss Mommy Daddy Gallo” (We often refer to the family this way… saying everyone’s name… it’s a game when we’re doing something, going somewhere, etc. )

Now the adoption trauma people would say he’s missing his first family and he knows it but can’t verbalize that. Except that he was never with his first family. His foster family, with whom he did spend the first 7 ½ mos of this life, were “mama” and “papa.” Never Mommy and Daddy. They only spoke Spanish to him. When I speak Spanish to him, he doesn’t seem to be interested.

I’m mental; I know it. He’s obviously bonded to his father and I’m thankful for it. I just don’t know how to facilitate a bond between he and I. Nearly every interaction between the two of us is a negative one. When he is sweet or wants attention from me, it feels like a total manipulation. I can’t explain it but it’s as if I am a means to an end. He’ll hold my hand if I have some food he wants. He asks me to pick him up but only to see what’s on the counter. He only runs to me if Mr. Beans scolds him. Of course I hate to indulge him because that undermines Mr. Beans’ authority in the moment. I cave sometimes because I’m terrified to pass up any moment when he reaches out to me.

So here I am. I’m continuing to search and read and listen. I’m overreacting; I’m seeing something very real. I’m listening to a mother’s intuition; I’ve got no intuition to hear. My doubts are because I am a first time mother; my doubts are because I’m an adoptive mother.

Where does one start and the other begin?

I'm just lost

Damned if I do and damned if I don’t. I’m constantly feeling no one is going be happy no matter which path I choose. Be aware of my white privilege. Don’t get bogged down with guilt about the past. Don’t decide how much support a person needs. Be aware if you offer support it might be rejected. Encourage connections with the community of your child’s ethnic origins. Be aware your child’s ethnic community may not welcome you. WTF? I have enough trouble just figuring how to get home on the interstate during my hour commute home without getting run off the road in time to have dinner with my 20 month old and give him a bath and have story time before falling into bed too exhausted to have sex with my husband. Now I have to be the damn U.N.?

I’m constantly trying to make a difference. One idea at a time. One situation at a time. I use positive adoption language. I challenge stereotypes in my family and friends. I try to walk the talk. It’s hard and I’m finding myself unpopular among even my beloved family members. “Why do you have to be so defensive about everything?” I find myself wondering “Why do adoptees seem to put so much damn stock in genetics? I know my genetic family members intimately and I don’t share much with these people other than non visible DNA strands.” But it’s not my decision to decide how they should feel. It’s that individual’s decision. Of course, my son is only 20 months old …. so laying in bed awake at night because I read a blog that tells me the mere fact that I stole him from his first family and brought him to a different country and ruined him for life probably isn’t the best use of my time. There’s laundry to do. And my co-worker just informed me that if I haven’t started to potty train before he’s two, it’ll be harder to train him. And make sure I teach him standing up. Boys have to learn that way. Right. Check.

My point is that I can’t be all things to all people. I’m trying; I really am. I am so tired of hearing that as an adoptive parent my ideas and feelings are at the bottom of the heap. In the same breath, I’m told that my thoughts and feelings are always given paramount credence and I have all the power. Really? Please tell me where the power is because some it needs to start doing the dishes. I can’t be bothered. Birthmother blogs talk about being victimized and treated like whores and garbage. I try to be empathetic. I try to be attentive and listen and rarely comment so that I don’t inflame their rage or their hurt. So I simply read to learn, and end up being the evitable emotional punching bag. It’s a hat I’m getting used to wearing. I find myself constantly trying to figure out how if it’s all about the child, the adoptee, then why am I still being told what an evil troll I am and how I need to ever mindful of the pain of his first family? I’m wondering why it isn’t more important to be there for my son and to help him, when he’s cognitively and emotionally ready, to discuss these issues. I’m not sure how being in a constant state of anguish for his mother in Guatemala does anything positive for him. How does being a constant beacon of doom and gloom and martyrdom help anyone? I’m just lost.

This isn’t statistical. It’s simply an anecdotal personal experience. I have two stepsons. They live in Germany because their biological mother is German. Mr. Beans married her when he was stationed there. (It’s the stereotypical American soldier marries local girl while stationed in foreign country story.) Fast forward, the marriage ended and there were two children. Children should be with their mothers, right? Fast forward and the children are now 16 and 13. Ask the boys if they are American or German. They’ll tell you American. They don’t speak English and have never lived here. They visit when finances allow. (ie. when their father and I can afford it because their mother refuses to assist.) The oldest hates his mother. Tell him how much he looks like her and he’s likely to fly into a rage that lasts for hours. No matter how much he’s encouraged to develop a relationship with her, he refuses. He hates her. (His words, not mine.) Everyone tells him that he will feel guilty when he’s older because he’s acted like toward her.

So here I am. Trying to be the good stepmom. Holding the party line that he shouldn’t say things like that about his mother. Telling him that he doesn’t mean it when he says he hates her. But the truth is that he does. It’s not my story to tell. It’s not for me to dictate his relationship with his mother. Right? So replace the characters in the story. Gallo should want to have a relationship with his first family. That’s normal. He should be encouraged to participate in a reunion with her (them). I should do everything in my power to facilitate that relationship. I should tell him that he owes his family this. He should always remember that he’s Guatemalan. He should develop these relationships because he will feel guilty if he doesn’t. Right?

But I thought this was Gallo’s story? I thought he got to decide how he feels and what he thinks. So my wallowing in grief and feeling bad and constantly encouraging him to talk about his Guatemalan family because I need to assuage some personal white guilt about taking him from his motherland will, in the end, be in his best interest? I’m just lost.

I know the tone of this post comes off incredibly sarcastic and I’m sorry for that. If you knew me IRL you’d understand how damn earnest I am with my thoughts and feelings. I am searching. I am asking. I am trying to come to grips with what appears to me to be very opposed lines of thinking. I can’t find a way to meld them together.

Anniversaries

I can’t even remember the last time I posted here. I’ve thought so many times, “I need to write something or folks are going to think I disappeared.” So here I am posting. My motivation is honestly just today’s date.

March 31

This date has so much meaning in my life for two very different reasons.

The first is a happy one. It’s the anniversary of the first date I had with my husband. It was supposed to be a group of co-workers meeting at a local club. Surreptitiously each member of the group found themselves otherwise occupied. Both of us arrived at the club expecting to find the big group. Instead it was just the two of us. We spent that first night talking over a few drinks and getting to know one another. Eight years later, the conversation hasn’t stopped. He’s the most amazing human being I have ever met. He challenges me as a person and has helped me grow as a partner. I can’t begin to imagine my world without him. I’m glad that I don’t have to. I hate to admit it, but he’s the first person to whom I have EVER been physically faithful. The truth is that he’s the only one I ever felt was worth it. Our relationship isn’t perfect by a long shot but we’re always willing to work at it. It’s a work in progress. And like I said, the conversation hasn’t stopped. I truly think that’s been the key.

The irony of this date is that it also marks the anniversary of the death of our first child. Miscarriage at seven weeks; delivery 33 weeks too early. You look at it your way; I’ll look at it mine. It was the most devastating moment of my life. I can’t say that time has made it any easier. The wound is still vividly raw. I can say though that time has made it easier to talk about openly. For so long I never mentioned the whole experience outside of close friends because I didn’t want to share it. I didn’t want to hear all the platitudes. I didn’t want to have to explain why I was so unbelievably devastated. I couldn’t articulate the sense of loss that I felt. When I tired, it seemed so trite. Even close friends and family did an awful job at trying to understand. Even my beloved Mr. Beans was no help. No one “got it.” Six years ago today my whole world crumbled and nothing would ever make it better. Sitting on the edge of my bed holding the .357 in my hands I couldn’t give myself a reason to go on. But obviously I did. And one day turned into another and another and another. There were good days and bad days, but I trudged along. Eventually, I moved forward. I didn’t “get over it.” I just went forward - one psychological foot in front of the other. Sadly, just 14 months later, another baby and another tragedy. But that’s another story.

I wish that had even known what the hell a blog was back then. It would have been such a light in the fog. I had no idea there were so many other women, many so much braver than I, who were dealing with the same emotions and situations that I was facing. It was only about two years ago when I stumbled across this corner of the world. Oh how I wish it were earlier!

So the point to this post?

Today I try to make March 31st a celebration: a celebration of the start of my life with Mr. Beans and a celebration of my first-born child. Remembering a first date isn't difficult. No one minds when you mention it casually over dinner. The other relationship isn't one discussed so easily. I sometimes think I’m the only one still remembering that tiny being who was with me for such a short time. It used to bother me immensely but now, I’m okay with it. I was the only one who had the honor of experiencing that life while it was here so maybe it’s fitting I’m the only one honoring that life now.

I found a poem during those lowest days that I recited to myself many times. (I’m sure those from the IF community have seen it countless times.) I’d like to post it here because it meant so much to me then. It said what I just couldn’t say myself.

Just Those Few Weeks

For those few weeks--
I had you to myself
And that seems too short a time
to be changed so profoundly.

In those few weeks--
I came to know you
and to love you.
You came to trust me with your life.
Oh, what a life I had planned for you!

Just those few weeks--
When I lost you.
I lost a lifetime of hopes,
plans, dreams, and aspirations...
A slice of my future simply vanished overnight.

Just those few weeks--
It wasn't enough time to convince others
how special and important you were.
How odd, a truly unique person has recently died
and no one is mourning the passing.

Just a mere few weeks--
And no "normal" person would cry all night
over a tiny, unfinshed baby,
or get depressed and withdrawn day after endless day.
No one would, so why am I?

You were just those few weeks my little one
you darted in and out of my life too quickly.
But it seems that's all the time you needed
to make my life so much richer
and give me a small glimpse of eternity.

(Poem Copyright 1984 by Susan Erling Martinez)

NaBloPoMo Failure

My first attempt to do "what all the other bloggers are doing" is a big fat zero. Call it a single pink line. I guess I should just say a) internet access was nearly impossible during my trip and b) I got sick... again. This time it wasn't GI issues but a head cold. Unfortunately, I have a heart condition that limits the number of cold medications I can safely take to alleviate my myriad of symptoms. Lucky me, I generally just have to wait it out. I'm waiting....

My Gallo isn't here and I miss him terribly. I haven't been away from him since the day he was placed in my arms. Seven whole months - I can't believe how fast the time has gone. By all reports he's doing well. He's being spoiled rotten by my parents. I'm just glad they have all this one-on-one time with him. It will help them build a relationship. I've been so worried for so long that they won't see him grow up. Every day he's able to spend with him I am thankful for immensely.

I have begun the packing process. When I think of the task in it's totality, I start to freak out. When I look at it piece by piece, I realize it's not that big of a deal. This evening I got organized. Tomorrow I start the actual packing. I still need to gather boxes from the liquor stores in the area. It's a college town so the supply the endless.

I'm thinking I should steal some of these memes going around. It might give me something interesting to write about. The truth is that I generally have tons to share in my every day world. Most people say I'm a wonderful speaker. I just can't seem to get it down here and have it make any sense. I'm guessing that good writers might be horrible conversationalists. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part!!

Moving Day for Gallo

I spent the better part of today driving to the coast. (We're at my parents' house now. The computer connection is AWFUL.... it might as well be dial-up.) Gallo was fabulous considering he had to be strapped into the carseat for the duration. The point of this trip was to move him down here. He will stay here with Mr. Beans and my parents. I will have to go back and pack up all of our stuff. I have two weeks to do it. What fun! I'm definitely not looking forward to that.

This weekend I will spend hanging out with family. I love these people but they grate on my nerves something fierce. I look at them constantly and am convinced that biology has little to do with family connections. I have no doubt that I'm biologically related to these people. Other than that, I'm not so sure how any of the "connection" remains.

I wish I had something exciting to report but it's status quo. Life seems so busy yet when I write it down, it seems like not much and no big deal. Maybe that's a good therapy technique. When you think life is completely overwhelming, write down everything going on. You might be surprised to learn it's realy not as bad as you think!

10pm dinner time

Have you ever had one of those days where you were geting ready for bed and realized,

"Damn. I haven't eaten dinner yet!"

Thank goodness for Fruity Pebbles.

An extra week

I talked to the HR folks at the New Agency. It seems that I can't transfer before Thanksgiving like I was originally told. I now have to wait until the end of the month. That's not really helpful as we're moving all of the stuff out of the house here over Thanksgiving weekend. Hmmm.... guess I'll be camping in my own house for a week. That should be weird. I just have to make sure not to disconnect the cable before the 30th since that's who supplies the internet connection. Lovely - another week without my husband or my child. Then again, this may be my last chance for a few moments to myself for the next dozen years!

In other news, there's a bit of office gossip going on. It seems that the husband of one of my coworkers has posted pictures on his Facebook account. The pictures are of her and one of his coworkers out of town having a grand old time. Nothing risque, per se, unless you count the fact that

a) he's married
b) the girl with him is the same age as his daughter
c) his wife, my friend, is currently out-of-town at a conference
d) this out-of-town trip was just the two of them (not business related), just a "hey let's go to the city and have a fun day" kind of thing.

I'm a bit freaked out about it. The question is: Do we tell her the pictures are there or wait for her to find out? Obviously there may be nothing going on. Even so, I found the pictures a bit distasteful. If Mr. Beans posted pictures of a trip with some woman... hell, if he WENT on a trip with some woman ... I would be more than a little mortified. Call me old fashioned but married men do not hang out with young, single coworkers alone. It just sets up a bad situation. Maybe it's just me?

Finally qualified

I didn't mention before that I obviously reapplied for the PIN I was trying to get into for my job. Much as it annoyed me, I knew I had no choice but to fill out the application again. Well, the letter arrived today. I'm finally qualified! I'm not sure what happened in the two weeks between when I applied last time and when they reviewed my file this time. Then again, I'm not sure how I went from qualified to not qualified in the previous letter. I love state employment! Should I mention that I wrote the exact same information on this application as in the last? Go figure...
So now, the job situation appears to be rectified. Now, I just wait for the confirmed transfer dates and I'm off and running. Now, we've just to close on that house!

Speaking of, any suggestions for paint colors for Gallo's room? The current room is a disgusting shade of lavender which just won't cut it. Mr. Beans says we have to paint it before we move everything. I'm leaning toward lime green with bright blue and orange accents. No theme in mind; I'm not that creative. Guess I've got some researching to do!

Day off

I caved in and stayed home today. I thought I was feeling better yesterday evening but then spent the entire night running to bathroom. By the time I finally got to sleep, the alarm was going off. I made a command decision. The boy was going to daycare; I was going back to bed. So, I pulled myself together the best I could and got him there on time for breakfast. I felt a little guilty but then realized it was probably safer for him to be there than to be at home. It did me a world of good to stay home and sleep today. I was able to build up my strength. It definitely made for a better evening for him. He hates it when his routine is changed. Just because I was sick didn't mean his world had to be miserable. He loves "school" and has fun there.

Gallo had his 15-month check up at the doctor yesterday and was given a clean bill of health. The pediatrician said he is doing wonderfully. He is 30 inches tall and weight 30 lbs. He’s got a little potbelly but the good doctor said that was fine. That will disappear as he continues to grow, so he says. I’m thinking with Mr. Beans wonderful culinary skills the belly may stay! Everything else is right on target or “within normal limits.” I’m still a bit worried about language development. The doctor says nothing to worry about. I’m still going to have him evaluated as soon as we get moved.

I’ve been reading so many blogs and have so many ideas for posts. I just can’t seem to get myself together enough to write. Hopefully I’ll have time at work this week. The truth is, now that they know I’m leaving, they’ve begun to transfer all of my duties to my co-workers. (They’re not planning to hire a replacement. Budgetary issues.) I’ve had to meet with folks and make a plan for the transfer. Most of them asked to just go ahead and start doing the tasks assigned to them. That way, if there were problems I would still be around to ask questions and help out. That’s great, except there haven’t been many issues. So, in essence, my job has been totally farmed out and I’ve still got another month to go. I’ve done so many sudoku puzzles, I’m dreaming about them! Guess I could use the time to write more blog posts. Plenty of downtime to think !

Mental health on the gulf coast

Feeling well enough to go to work. Guess I should get something accomplished. Blogging – yep, that’s what’s important.

I read an article that didn’t surprise me. It says that there continues to be a mental health crisis in the gulf coast region affected by Hurricane Katrina. It also highlights the lack of mental health providers in the area, especially outside of the metro-New Orleans area. Once again, I feel the need to speak for my people.

People still live in FEAM trailers with no prospect of moving out. There is no affordable housing available. The upper and middle class folks have been able to move on. Those without the means, however, are still stuck in pretty much the same place they were on the afternoon of August 29, 2005. You can’t “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” when you don’t know how. Mental illness is a disease….. just like cancer and diabetes. If you don’t receive treatment, you will die.

Another silent group is the children of the disaster. Is anyone thinking of the future? There are hundreds of “Katrina babies” – those children born 9-12 months after the storm. These children will have no memory of Katrina or its physical aftermath. The problem is these children will be raised by parents who could very well be suffering from the emotional aftermath of the storm. These children will suffer the consequences of their parents’ disease. Sadly, it’s preventable. If the parents receive adequate mental health care, the children will in turn receive the benefits. Healthy parents raise healthy children. And if you think this isn’t your problem, just remember. These children could end up in your communities dating your children someday. Think about it.

Whether or not these people should have had kids in the first place misses the point. The reality is that the children are here, in the flesh, and they need help. A 15 month old child can’t ask Mommy and Daddy to stop fighting. He just learns that yelling and hitting must be how be people relate to one another. Lessons like that are hard to forget.

I know I’m not doing this topic justice. Even so, I thought it was important to share. If you know someone in the mental health field who would like to make a difference, tell them to contact their counterparts on the gulf coast. Volunteer. Find a way to help these people. My people.

Sick caring for the sick

No one ever told me how much poop was associated with being a mom.

No one ever told me how to care for a toddler who is whizzing out of his behind when I am vomiting profusely myself... even before I get to the diaper change.

Good grief I hope this passes soon!

Gender issues already

I’m already trying to think ahead for Christmas and get presents picked out early. I can’t promise that I will have them purchased in a timely manner. I’d just like to have an idea of what I’m looking for prior to the 23rd of December. This will be Gallo’s first Christmas with us and I wanted to get him something he would really like. (He’ll be 15 months in a few days. At this point, the boy likes empty toilet paper rolls and Tupperware! ) It just so happens, as I was meandering down the aisle at Wallyworld, I noticed an interesting box. It was a talking kitchen. A TALKING KITCHEN! It has a stove and refrigerator and play food. The doors open; the appliances talk; the boy will love it! Let the gender issues begin.

I mention this wonderful present idea to my co-workers who promptly inform me that I will “make him gay” if I buy him this kitchen. Yes folks, cooking = homosexual tendencies. I was floored. Forget the whole concept that you can’t make people gay. (I didn’t even try to explain this idea.) I simply tried to point out that cooking in a kitchen couldn’t possibly make a 15-month old child gay. I explained that his father does all of the cooking in our house and Gallo LOVES to be in the kitchen with his papa. This had no effect. (Which I found odd as I also made it very clear that Mr. Beans is definitely of the heterosexual persuasion. I even included diagrams and flowcharts.) They weren’t buying my story. I then tried to explain that Gallo loves talking toys. The voices make him laugh and he tries to imitate them. (This is important, as I am a bit concerned about his language development at this point.) Gallo also loves the concept of putting items into things – like putting plastic rings into boxes or pulling clothes out of dresser drawers. The whole cause-and-effect game can keep him entertained for a long time.

Nope. None of this mattered. If I buy the boy the kitchen, I’ll make him gay. In the end, I capitulated for the sake of the argument. I finally asked what would be so bad if he were gay? I might as well have asked what was so bad about Hillary Clinton while dining at an RNC fundraiser. Deer-in-headlights was the expression on most faces; others looked horrified.

Have I mentioned how much I can’t wait to move? Three weeks and counting……

Not a seamless transition

Just when I think things are working out… there’s drama!

It seems that the sellers of our wonderful new home have decided to quibble over $195. Yes, you read that correctly. ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY-FIVE DOLLARS. During the home inspection it was noted that there were some wiring issues. It was nothing that would make a buyer run screaming from the premises. The garage had been closed in years ago and apparently someone played the home version of “let’s-be-an-electrician.” Two many things on a breaker, wires not marked appropriately – whatever. The inspector said it was a safety issue in that it needed to be fixed but nothing that couldn’t be remedied quickly by someone who knew what he/she was doing. So we sent the sellers a copy of the report and told them these safety issues had to be fixed before closing. No big deal, so we thought.

Our realtor called today to tell us that the sellers contacted a licensed electrician who gave them a quote of $695 to make the repairs. They consider this stuff “incidentals.” Therefore, it’s covered by the $500 they’ve given us in the contract for said incidentals. We’ll need to pay the difference to have the repairs done.

Um – NO. Incidentals, my friends are things like scuffed paint, cleaning the carpets, replacing a squeaky ceiling fan. There is now way IMPROPER WIRING WHICH CAN RESULT IN A MAJOR FIRE can be considered “incidentals.” Our realtor wanted to know how far we wanted to take this. We told her, they can pay for the repair or they can shove the contract straight up their candy ass! I should also mention the sellers’ realtor mentioned he saw Mr. Beans’ name in the paper a few weeks ago. That would be the announcement that he had joined the firm. Kinda makes you wonder whether the fact that he’s a lawyer makes them think we need to pay the additional $195. You know, since lawyers have SO much money! (sure drop by, there’s a cash giveaway in the driveway tomorrow at 9am….) Honestly, they’ve lost their minds. This house has been on the market for months with NO offers and it’s a buyer’s market extraordinare! They can cough up the dough or they can enjoy their house. I’d rather live with my parents for a few months than get taken. It’s the principle of the matter.

On the job front, it’s even more ridiculous. In case you didn’t pay attention, I work for a state agency in this here fine state. All employees with the state have a classification for the pay called a PIN. These PINs are assigned to agencies and they see fit to assign PIN to whatever jobs they want. You may be in PIN X and be an instructor. He may be in PIN X and be a supervisor. The point is, you both make the same amount of money. Your job is the agency’s business. I was in a specific PIN (PIN X) for three years in my previous life. I then moved to another agency and was promoted to a higher level PIN (PIN Y). In order to transfer, I applied for the open PIN X at The Agency. I got my letter from the state personnel office. It seems that I’m not qualified for PIN X. Nope. I was qualified five years ago and in that time compiled five more years of experience, three of which was in PIN X, along with a promotion to PIN Y and a master’s degree. Now, I’m no longer qualified for PIN X. Overqualfied? Nope I “don’t meet the minimum requirements.”

I think I should apply for a job at the state personnel office. Perhaps I’m qualified for that.

On a posotive note, Mr. Beans is coming to visit this weekend. I get a day off from total parental responsibility. And oh yeah, a few happy minutes alone with my husband. Guess I should stop complaining. Happy Friday!

Trying to do better

11/01/07:

I’m trying this NaBloPoMO thing….. I hope I the link correctly. Not that many folks read me regularly because, well, I don’t post regularly. Go figure.

I do however have plenty for Day 1. Perhaps the prospect of explaining it all will give me something to do with my free time. (As if…)

Sine my last post, life has continued to get crazy.

House: the crazy folks accepted our offer on the house in HomeTown! We’re now in the process of working out the kinks. There were a few minor things on the home inspection that have to be completed. Once that is done, we’ll have the survey done and get the mortgage crap all signed, sealed and delivered. We’re still hoping to move in by Thanksgiving. Oh, and did I mention the hot tub ?? Yeah baby! It comes with a hot tub. Just in time for the cold weather. I can’t wait!

Job: As I last explained, a job unexpectedly came open at my previous place of employment, The Agency. I had a phone interview and she hired me on the spot! We’re now trying to work out the transfer process to ensure a seamless jump from here to there. It also appears that I won’t have to bit the bullet with a five figure cut in pay! Talks were in the works to upgrade certain positions to provide more oversight within the Agency. The powers-that-be decided that I would be the perfect fit for this newly created position. Volia! Instant job with same pay package I currently receive. It will be a LOT more work and I’ll probably be on the carpet 24/7 whenever the higher-ups decide it’s time for the bi-annual flogging contest. In the end, though, it’s another big jump career-wise for me. I’m honestly floored. Of course, the whole thing is a bit ironic since all I ever wanted to be was a stay-at-home mom. What’s with the career opportunities now?

Obviously Gallo will need someplace to go during the day while Mommy and Daddy are out conquering their respective worlds. We’ve found a wonderful in-home childcare situation that fits us perfectly. We’d prefer he be at an actual daycare with more structure. Unfortunately, there are ZERO openings in the area and waiting lists are at least a year long. So, until then, we’re happy with the situation that has presented itself. Hopefully Gallo will be happy, too.

I’m definitely worried about the continued changes he has to deal with on an almost constant basis. Mr. Beans has already been gone a month. Gallo will leave the daycare he’s known for four months. Then, he will be away from me for a few weeks. (He’s going to Home Town to stay with Daddy and Grandparents while Mommy packs up the house here.) Then a new house, new day care…. Good grief. The boy has had nothing but changes since he arrived in this world! Adapt, overcome…. Hoorah! It must the military brat in me that says it will be okay. The professional who works in the field of mental health isn’t so sure. Only time will tell. We’re giving him all the love and attention we can. We’re trying to gradually ease him into each new situation the best we can. As parents, aren’t we always wondering if we’re doing the right thing? We do what we know. When we know better, we do better. I truly hope I’m learning fast!

Waiting to Exhale

I haven’t written in forever. Go figure – isn’t that a recurring theme? I don’t even know where to start. In no particular order:

Mr. Beans passed the bar!!! He took it in July and results were posted in September. I knew he’d pass and had no doubts. Even so, he wasn’t going to believe me until he had confirmation from the people who count. He was sworn-in in our fair capital city. Gallo and I were able to be there and witness the event. We went to KFC for dinner that night. Yes folks, the life of an attorney is as glamorous as you thought!

I didn’t mention it here but over Labor Day weekend, Mr. Beans had a job interview back on the coast. It went very well and he was tentatively offered a job, pending bar results. So, when he heard the good news, the compensation package for the job was offered and we accepted. The bad news: he had to start immediately. So, he headed south and Gallo and I remain here in Whitey McWhiteville. I’d like to say I miss my husband but the sad truth is that most days I don’t have time to miss him. Thankfully we have daycare that I love, but it now means that Gallo is there nearly 50 hours a week. That breaks my heart but we have no choice. I also hate that I’m completely drained on a daily basis. I get myself ready, then get him up and get him to daycare. (Thankfully they feed him breakfast.) Then when I get off work, I pick him up. We come home, have dinner, and then play in his room. He then gets a bath and it’s off to bed. I usually have cereal for dinner and crawl into bed. I’m just beat. I don’t know how single moms do it everyday. I just can’t keep this up and I’ve only been doing it for 3 weeks! My mother has offered to come help until we can be together again. I think I’m going to have to take her up on it.

In order for the family to be together, we need a place to live. Unfortunately, rent in the area is INSANE. It’s cheaper to buy than to rent. (Literally… not in “the long run” but literally, a mortgage for a decent house is less than rent on an apartment in a scary neighborhood with shaky plumbing. How sad.) Insurance is going to kill us (a 1500 sq ft home will run you about $4000 a year – insurance agents are the spawn of the devil.) So we looked at houses in various neighborhoods and managed to find one we really liked. Mr. Beans signed papers on an offer today! We should know by tomorrow whether or not they’ve accepted our offer. Keep your fingers crossed!

The final piece of the puzzle is that I needed to procure a transfer between state agencies. I have worked for the state for eight years. After the storm, I was able to transfer from one agency to another to be with Mr. Beans. The transfer was important because it allowed me to keep my personal and medical leave as well as not loose my retirement investment. Transfers are always the best. So, when he got the job back on the coast, I’d hoped I could transfer back to the agency where I started. I was told it wouldn’t be possible for a while thanks to budgetary issues. (I was told not to even try before the next fiscal year!) We had resigned ourselves that either we’d be apart until next summer or I’d just have to quit. Ditching the career is a sacrifice I’d make easily; loosing the benefits of insurance and retirement are a bit harder to swallow. We were trying to figure out another way. Monday night, the “other way” landed in our laps. It seems that two people resigned on Friday at my old agency. Even with the budget crunch, the agency MUST hire at least one person to fill the gap or risk being out of compliance with federal regulations. So, I made some phone calls, faxed my resume, and kept my fingers crossed. This afternoon I got a call that I have a phone interview tomorrow afternoon. (She’s making accommodations since I live so far away.) It’s the answer to prayers, if we were the praying type. If I could get this transfer, we could be together as a family by Thanksgiving. Hopefully, we’ll also be in our brand new house!

I’m taking deep breaths and telling myself it’s going to be okay. We’ve been through so much in our lives….. I’m always afraid the other shoe is going to drop… the bubble is going to burst… I’m hoping this time, I can finally just exhale.

Fragile

Because I skipped July

((taps on mic))

“Anyone out there?”

(( crickets))

Yeah that’s what I thought. I am still faithfully reading so many blogs – my list is way too long. I even manage to leave comments from time to time. So why can’t I get my shit together and leave my own posts? I really don’t know. I think work and home and self have just gotten the best of me. I often wonder how so many of you manage to do it. I think the blogs I love the best are those that read like journal entries. The blogger just writes as if chatting up a friend and filling in the details of the day. Sometimes the details are fascinating; others days, boring as hell. But there’s a connection between the writer and the reader. So here I am, rambling on about mindless drivel…

Gallo is amazing! He made his first birthday on 8/08.



Cake was had by all and he did indeed wear a good bit of it. I think that’s a tradition. So was the fact that the first birthday cake had to be carrot. That’s a Mr. Beans family thing. I always thought chocolate but I was immediately voted. Since he was the one baking it, I guess I didn’t have a say! It was yummy so no complaints here.

My youngest stepson, C, was here for two weeks. That was an adventure. I really should have been blogging at the time. I understand that 13 year olds can be trying even during the best of times. However, he’s the product of being 13 and having had ZERO discipline during his life save the two-three weeks a year he’s spent with his father for the past decade. One cannot solve 49 weeks of bad parenting in three. It just doesn’t work that way.

Oh and I had a birthday this month as well - turned the big 33. When did that become old? Seriously, one day I was young and vibrant and sexy. I woke up and had facial hair, varicose veins and didn’t know a single band on MTV. Of course maybe that’s because I actually witnessed the BIRTH of MTV. E-gad!

I’ve actually written several posts but never published them. Of course they were on hot button topics that got my blood boiling. I’d write, and edit and add…. And then save them and never publish. I just didn’t have the energy to bother. That’s sad… and really not like me. Again, maybe it’s an age thing.

I would be remiss if I didn’t make mention of today’s date. August 29…. It’s been two years since a bitch named Katrina changed my world forever. Two years seems like a lot of time, until you’re trying to rebuild your life. Then it’s the blink of an eye. Some things have changed. Most have not. Time rolls on. King George is using the coast as a photo-op. How nice. Thankfully I’ll miss his trip. We’re making the pilgrimage there to visit the family for the Labor Day holiday. I want my parents to have more time with Gallo. He’s growing up so fast…. I’m afraid he won’t remember them.

Did I mention Gallo’s walking already? Yup – mastering it more and more every day. We’re moving from formula to milk…. from the bottle to the sippy cup. He’s so independent and smart and determined. I’m more proud of him every day. I keep trudging along, still in awe that I have the opportunity to raise him. I’m so incredibly lucky.

Nothing will ever be the same

I haven’t posted anything substantial for awhile because, well, I just haven’t had the time. I’m sure most of you can relate. It’s not like I have hundreds of folks waiting with baited breath to hear my next rant, so who cares, right? But I’ve found myself with some free time (at work no less) and here I write.

I probably should have posted more about brining my son home. I’ve decided to call him Gallo, as in el gallo (the rooster). I do this for two reasons: a) I have the most adorable picture of him in the bathtub with a soapsuds mohawk that makes him look like a rooster; and b) Gallo is a popular beer in Guatemala of which I was able to partake a few of and really enjoyed. So he’s officially Gallo.

The infamous “pick-up” trip was full of so much excitement and anxiety rolled into one. Thank the goddess for xanax! We all know I hate to fly so a little pharmaceutical help makes the journey so much easier for me and even more so for Mr. Beans. We arrived on time with no worries and were expecting a full night’s sleep before the arrival of Gallo and his foster family. Guess again! We arrived at the hotel to be told they would be here in about an hour! We ran upstairs, brushed hair and teeth, changed clothes and voila! They arrived.

His foster family was amazing. It was obvious how much they loved Gallo and were sad to see him go. He was placed in their care when he was three days old. Now, 7.5 months later, he was leaving. They brought a beautiful picture of him with angels superimposed around his face. On the back was a message saying how much they loved him and wished him a happy life. They included their address and asked that we keep in touch. I promised that I would. Letters and pictures are the least I can do to show my appreciation for caring for him all this time. That may sound flippant but what else can I say? Foster families understand that the children they are caring for will one day leave to go to another family. I’m not insinuating it’s not heartbreaking each time a child leaves. I’m only implying they understand, at least cognitively, that the day is coming. I am happy to continue this connection for Gallo. He may never be able to locate the family that brought him into the world, but I can do my damnedest to maintain the relationship with the family that cared for him during his first few months.

We visited for some time and then said our goodbyes. The whole scene was unbearably painful. I remember the pain I felt when we visited having to leave him and return to the U.S. without him. My only solace was knowing I would return, sooner or later, to bring him to his new home. This time, there was no solace for his foster mother. This was it. She had nothing more than my word that we would stay in touch. I can’t fathom what she was thinking or feeling at the time. I can only live up to my word to remain in contact.

The next few days went by so quickly. The details of the embassy visit are irrelevant to most. I’ve recorded them for Gallo’s questions, should there be any. Unless you’re going through the adoption process in Guatemala and are interested to know what will happen during your visit, I’m sure you aren’t interested. Short version: We spent the weekend bonding. We went to the embassy on Monday. It took four hours. We returned Tuesday afternoon and received his visa. We left Wednesday morning and arrived back at home, safe and sound, a little after midnight on Thursday. I have no positive comments for Immigration folks at the Charlotte airport. (perhaps I’ll elaborate in a later post). Suffice it to say, I wouldn’t recommend using that airport to return to the U.S. Go through Atlanta or Houston – better chance they know what they’re doing.

April was a blur! I stayed home thanks to lots of personal leave accrued during my past decade of being a state wage-slave employee. It was nice to have the time to bond with Gallo. Mr. Beans was finishing up classes in his last semester of law school. My mother, Grandma, was able to come and visit a few days. Then, Gallo and I traveled to the coast to visit the rest of my family. Everyone fussed over him and spoiled him rotten! I was happy we were able to visit for a whole week. I truly miss my friends and family, as well as my hometown. A few weeks later we traveled to visit Oma and Opa, Mr. Bean’s parents. They were thrilled to see Mr. Beans and Gallo. I was thankful the visit was only three days. I only wanted to kill Oma once. (This implies a good visit.) Upon our return home, we all came down with the rotavirus! I don’t wish this on my worst enemy…. okay maybe King George….. but seriously, it was awful! I’d like to blame this on visiting the ILs, but I can’t be certain. It was going around the pediatrician’s office the week before and it’s likely we picked it up there. Who knows? Thankfully it only took Gallo a week to get over it. Mr. Beans unfortunately suffered through it for almost two weeks until it finally subsided. Me? 2 days, baby! Ahhh, at least my immune system isn’t falling apart!

Rush forward to May: Law school graduation! The entire clans, on both sides, made the journey here to WhiteyMcWhiteville to see our genius Mr. Beans receive his Juris Doctor. I was so proud of the man. Considering the tumultuous happenings of the past three years and yet he still made it through. We got married; Katrina destroyed everything we owned; I moved here to WMW and started a new job; we started and finished Gallo’s adoption. All of this during his three years of law school - unfuckingbelievable. Truly, the man is a wonder. He’s now consumed with studying for the bar exam… and being Mr. Mom. Every day I marvel at his ability to care for Gallo. I don’t mean emotionally because that’s a no-brainer. I mean the actual day-to-day physical care of this child. He has the patience of Job. It’s sad to say that I’m impressed because he’s a guy. I know it sounds stereotypical. It’s just been my experience that fathers aren’t usually the “hands-on” caregivers that mothers are. That’s not the case here at Casa de Beans. Papa is the primary caregiver; Mama is the bread winner. And so it goes, until the bar is passed and a job is found.

Gallo is, of course, the most amazing child on earth. He’s now 10 months old. He’s crawling, pulling himself up, standing without assistance and certainly about to take his first steps any minute now. He knows “mama” and “papa” and can say them somewhat discriminately. He knows “bottle” and “doggie” but won’t say them. He’s got six teeth with number seven trying to rear its ugly head. His hair is so long if one more person asks me when I’m gonna give him a hair cut I’m gonna ask when they plan to loose weight! (as if either question is the inquisitor’s business!) He’s at the 95th percentile for weight and 75th percentile for height. He sleeps through the night (at least 12 hours) and takes two, 2-hour naps during the day. When he’s awake, he’s “balls to the wall” (as Mr. Beans would say) until he goes to sleep. He’s big and happy and healthy. We couldn’t be more thrilled he’s finally with us!

Reality-ville? I’m exhausted. Mr. Beans is exhausted. This is hard. This is trying. Some days I wonder “what have I gotten myself in to?” Some days I don’t think I’m gonna make it. Some days I wish I could just pull the covers over my head and just go back to sleep. Most days I’m in tears about something I’ve done or said or not done or not said to Gallo. Yes, at the end of the day, it is all worth it; but that doesn’t mean it’s all moonbeams and fairytales. It’s Motherhood and it ain’t always pretty.

So there’s the boring “catch-up” post. Sorry it’s so long. I guess I really have to get better organized. So much of my life pre-Gallo has taken a backseat. I know all the moms out there are saying, “Um yeah, what did you expect?” Honestly, I expected nothing less. I’m just taking longer than I would like to get into a discernable rhythm. I’m sure I’ll get the hang out it sometime. Every day I’m finding I understand more and more and feeling less and less confused about my role as mom. I should figure this thing out in oh…. 50-60 years??

My thoughts on the sextuplets

Can you help?

I know there are a lot of people within the adoption community who read blogs. I have no clue how many people may stop by mine from time to time. Like me, don't like me; that's your call. However, please take a minute to read the below post I copied from Erin. I don't know her IRL but from what I have gotten to know about her, she seems like a wonderful woman. Rumors and bad stuff travel like wildfire on the 'net. Maybe this will travel too and she, and other families like hers, will finally find the help they need.

Peace!

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Missing Guatemala City Signature: Searching Out Others
Dear readers:

Thank you for your supportive comments. Unfortunately, this is not a situation for which we can contact US politicians or government bodies for assistance. It concerns a Guatemala citizen's document -- issued by a municipality in Guatemala -- that is not being accepted by a Guatemalan government body. It could even be counterproductive to attempt to bring US parties into the mix.

However, there is something you can do to help if you so wish. If you are ADOPTING FROM GUATEMALA and you are with an agency or facilitator that is not HAPS or For This Child, PLEASE EMAIL THE FOLLOWING LETTER TO YOUR AGENCY. If you are NOT ADOPTING but you have a blog, please POST THIS REQUEST ON YOUR BLOG.

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Dear [agency-name],
If your agency has a case in process that contains a Guatemala City cedula or birth-certificate that is missing the Civil Registry signature (usually the mayor's signature), we have important information to share.

According to PGN, if your case has not yet received a previo for the missing signature, it will. The letter from the Civil Registry and/or the Mayor of Guatemala City is no longer sufficient to satisfy the previo. The four PGN assessors have made a joint decision that these unsigned documents MUST be signed. However, at this time there is NO ONE in Guatemala City with the authority to sign these documents!

We are Cheri xxxxxx and Erin xxxxxx, in the process of adopting Guatemalan babies through For This Child and HAPS, respectively. After many months working on this issue separately, our agencies are now collaborating to find a solution. They have discussed this with the PGN reviewers, Barrios, and the Mayor of GC directly. The conclusion is that the mayor does NOT have the authority to sign a document issued under another mayor's tenure. Therefore, we must file an acta with a different branch of PGN that will require the Civil Registry of GC to 1) designate and authorize a person to sign these documents, and 2) order that person to do so.

The PGN reviewer on Erin's case currently has 12 cases that have been kicked out for this reason. If all 8 reviewers have a similar number of cases, that means 80-100 cases are in this same predicament! We have been advised to find as many of these other cases as possible so that we can ALL file the acta together.

We have strength in numbers.If you have, or know of, a case that contains a Guatemala City cedula or birth-certificate that is missing the Civil Registry signature, please contact:

Karla Ordonez, with HAPS: cell 5555-3610, office 2332-9040 Traci Orr, with For This Child: US #214-370-8436, traci@forthischild.org

Thank you for your time,
Cheri and Erin