So many firsts

There comes a time after 32 years of living I can say there aren't a lot of firsts. Especially since Mike and I have been together for 13 years, married for 9 of them, and have owned our own home for 8 of those.  Instead, meaningful firsts become trips to new and exotic places or the joy of seeing a friend/family member's new baby or even buying a new car.

Yet suddenly I've had all kinds of firsts lately.

First No. 1: Someone on the phone asked me what my daughter's last name was. I was so caught on someone else saying "your daughter" and not to my mom, that I couldn't concentrate on the question.

First No. 2: I was given presents for my daughter so really this is a first for her not for me or Mike.  This is a quilt and pillow case my aunt made for Rosie.

First No. 3: We learned today that Rosie's favorite color is pink. She loves being a princess and anything princess related. She's a girly girl. Poor Mike, being surrounded by women seems to be his lot in life, but I know he can get her interested in non girly things.  Odds are she probably hasn't been introduced to them much.

First No. 4: Today we learned today our daughter's middle name.

First No. 5: The other first I had today was rushing away from work to make an appointment with our social workers who eased my fear that something had changed.  I know leaving work for kid emergencies is common, and I imagine today is the first of a few sick days for us not spent being ill ourselves.

Lastly, but most excitedly, leaving work was worth the early wake-up tomorrow to make up the hours. At the agency, we learned we'll likely be meeting our daughter around December 27th, and we will likely celebrate New Years -- or at least part of it with Rosie! What a first on the first! Moxie couldn't be more excited.

Of course, just like everything else about this process, the dates are subject to change, but we are pretty optimistic and felt we were on the same pages with our social workers, finally.

Timing and smiles

Every time I look at my daughter's picture, I smile.

When I'll get to see that smile in person has yet to be determined. We're supposed to meet with her social worker and our social worker this week to figure out how the next steps will progress. Until then, I will keep my patience in check and remember that this is worth the wait. It really is.

Happy Thanksgiving, Rosie

Dear Rosie,

I haven't met you, yet, and you probably won't read this letter. Today is Thanksgiving 2010. This morning I completed my 6th Turkey Trot, which is a 3.1 mile run I participate in every Thanksgiving. As I ran, I noticed all the children running alongside their parents. I wonder if you'll want to run with me next year?

Then I came home, and Mike had cinnamon rolls baking. I cooked us some eggs. The dogs had their kongs, and now we're all relaxing watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Some years we are a little more rushed after my race because we host Thanksgiving dinner for my family. This year, though, we're going to celebrate Thanksgiving at Aunt Debbie's house.

My family is pretty small--this year there will be six of us. I can't wait to have turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing and gravy. What kind of food do you like to eat at Thanksgiving?  After all the turkey eating is done, we'll come home and might start putting up the Christmas decorations. Which reminds me, when we meet you we'll have to pick out an ornament for you. We have a tradition of getting special ornaments for the tree every year.

We're lucky. We get a second Thanksgiving on Saturday most years with Mike's family. This year we're having pizza, and we're also celebrating your Aunt Krista's birthday. I can't wait to introduce you to the entire Schulte family. They are almost double the size of my family, but you're such a smart girl you'll have all their names memorized in no time. I know everyone will love you.

So that's our Thanksgiving this year. We're a little sad to miss your 9th Thanksgiving and will wonder from time to time today what you're up to. But we can't wait to celebrate with you next year and for every year after that.

With much love and anticipation,
Your mom (and dad)

Mike & Amy

Thank you very much, thank you very much

If you haven't ever watched Albert Finney's Scrooge, you might have heard one of the songs in a car commercial last year. However, the true intent of the song is in complete contrast to a car commercial.(Thanks, Sis for making me think of youtube to get this video clip.)

The reason I post it here is also to thank everyone. I have been overwhelmed in a very good way with all the support friends, coworkers and old friends have given during this adoption.

It will all work out. So thanks. And Happy Thanksgiving!

A slight thud

Today we got an email outlining three more steps we need to complete before we can meet Rosie. FOUR MORE STEPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No, I'm not that exited.

Yep, I'm frustrated. Far too frustrated and slightly heart broken to reflect on anything right now.

Instead, I am going to log-off with parting advice from my mom who said "You have to fight for your kids."

Well, parting advice and a random thought. How excited am I that Thanksgiving is around the corner? Pretty darn excited considering that means I can start watching Christmas movies. (Waiting for Thanksgiving to be over to start my Christmas movie marathon is my own rule.) I'll begin with "Miracle on 34th Street" and end with "When Harry Met Sally," which isn't a Christmas movie, but ends at a New Years party. In the middle is Albert Finney's Scrooge. If you haven't seen it, you gotta.

The Domino Effect

Making room for a third person in our house is becoming a never-ending reorganization project. For example, today I needed to clean out Rosie's closet. It, too, had become storage space for us. So I took out a set of curlers and put it into the hall closet. Unfortunately, the hall closet had to be cleaned up and reorganized to make room for the curlers.

The same holds true of the many duffel bags, back packs and luggage that were once under Rosie's bed. They need to go into our bedroom closet somewhere. Suddenly the house I thought was just a perfect size is feeling a little small, and we're not even trying to accommodate all of Rosie's things yet.

However, if a family of 5 lived in this house, the three of us should be just fine. Right?

Adventure Here We Come

Holy cow, it's happened!

Today I woke up, went for my 5 a.m. run, came home and ordered prints of my daughter's picture. One 4x6 for my desk, another for Mike's and a 5x7 for our house.

And there is something I've never said before: my daughter.

Oh, I know we'll have our hands full and that there will be challenges, but right now I already know my daughter is beautiful, intelligent, caring and sensitive.

I can't wait to meet her. Not sure when that will be as we're working out the "transition" details. Our hope is to meet her on or around her upcoming birthday and have her move down here around Christmas or when she feels ready.

One of the many things yesterday's meeting taught us was that Rosie has won the affection of many people, and all of those people want to ensure she is safe and happy. How wonderful is that? How crazy would it be to ignore their advice or opinion? Even if in the end we decide something different. Something we feel is best for our daughter.

Oh what a wonderful pair of words "our daughter". :-)

Pictures

Today to calm my nerves I went for a run. You can tell I'm getting healthier because this photo was snapped post-run, and notice my face is not as red as a tomato.  I'm as pale as normal.  Mike's relaxing through his video game. Sorry, no pic of that.

I also seem to lack all humility as I am wearing all sorts of colors and materials that don't match. If there's one thing I remember my mom doing when I was upset as a teenager was her ability to make fun of herself--which I pretended to hate, but really loved. (Can you see Moxie's long snout?)

This was for you, you know who you are.

Hopefully, sooner than later I'll have MUCH CUTER photos to post here.

What's the first thing you'd tell your child about yourself?

One of the cooler parts of this adoption process is that if we agree to parent Rosie, her social worker will bring her a book we made about us just for her.

Rosie will get a day or two to look through the book, and then we get to meet her. So after 3 weeks of pouring over photos, we finally hammered out what we wanted to say and pictures we would want to include.

I created it through Shutterfly, which was far superior to Snapfish whose software kept killing on me or Kodak whose site was too confusing to bother.

Knowing this is Rosie's first impression of us made it a tricky project. I didn't want to over-promise how life would be, but I wanted to paint a picture that would make a child excited to meet us. I had to keep things pretty basic. I have a hard time writing in compound sentences. I tried to channel Ernest Hemingway. 

Hemingway wasn't capable of being cheesy like I felt we needed to be.  Thankfully, I'm good at being cheesy, but hopefully in an endearing or adorable way.

The book is being printed and should be shipped in time to give it to Rosie in a week from now. In 7 days from now, we could be meeting our daughter.

Crazy.

Things I am Looking Forward To

As the aroma of brewing coffee filled the house this morning I started to think about how much I'm looking forward to the ritual of Sunday breakfast with Rosie.

Last spring we bought a beautiful dining room table just for my dream ritual. Right now that table is the holding place for our junk mail. Once Rosie joins our life, I can't wait to have us sit at it as a family not only for dinners but also for Sunday breakfast.

My parents didn't have a ritual like this so I'm not sure why I want to try it. I can't wait, though, to start Sundays with Mike cooking bacon and Rosie and I whipping together pancake batter. Not sure why in my dreams I divide labor in that way. Odd. To make things less stereotypical we can all set the table. As we eat, we can discuss what our plans are for the day or week. 

From having enough friends with children I know best-laid plans sometimes prove impossible once kids get their own lives and schedules. So I'm not setting my heart on Sunday breakfast every Sunday--but maybe once or twice per month. Or maybe not, maybe we will say Sunday breakfast is important to us and avoid making plans that would interfere when possible.

And maybe on those days when my best-laid plans don't work, we will have a Sunday dinner instead---which reminds me, I need a new crock pot. My crock pot is the same one that my grandma used in the 1970s and maybe even '60s. It works, but I worry it will also work at starting my house on fire some day.

Other things I am looking forward to are:

1. Board game night
2. Going to the museums again and seeing them through a child's eyes
3. Seeing everything through a child's eyes--especially the holidays
4. Decorating for Christmas, baking for Christmas, and having Christmas traditions that include a child
5. I kind of hope, selfishly, she might become interested in running with me
6. Learning what rituals Rosie would like to make hers and, more importantly, ours.

What rituals does your family have? I'd like to consider them all.

Guess what else I know nothing about?

Education.

That's right. My mom raised me to value it. I completed 13 years primary/secondary. I even went on to finish my Bachelors in Sociology and Written Communications--although, to be fair, a bachelors degree seemed pretty much mandatory in this day and age. I didn't love education in those 17-plus years of memorizing, studying and worry about the future. I made education a priority because my mom wanted me to. Yep, I'd love to say that at 17 I was more wise. I wasn't.

I take that back. I was wise enough at 17 to know college was my way out of working at McDonald's permanently. I had nightmares about becoming a "lifer." I really did. Once I had a dream that I came into McDonald's to work and my manager informed me I hadn't passed the ACT, and I'd have to occupy a cot in the attic of McDonald's. I woke up screaming...my mom even remembers it. She also remembers me waking her up with dreams where I was screaming "Quarter Pounder with cheese NO ONION"...thank goodness those days are over.


Although, now my worry has changed its focal point.

Now I worry about a potential daughter and where she will go to school. I worry I will put her in the wrong school. I have become extremely, and I mean completely brutal in my analysis of school administrator's responses to my inquiries. Rude response? Eliminated. I can't have my daughter being treated that way.

As a sociology major at a private, liberal college, I also struggle with comparing schools in my neighborhood. The schools with the highest rates of poverty have the lowest test scores but the highest "diversity" scores. On the other hand, the schools with the lower poverty rates have the better test scores but the lowest diversity. Although I loathe diversity as a word, I value its concept. All I want is a school where my child can learn and receive the attention necessary to succeed--to fifth grade, anyway. I want her to feel like she belongs. But my upbringing and liberal college days make me feel snobby for dismissing the schools with poor test scores.


So I've guiltily abandoned public education temporarily because I learned that the City of Minneapolis doesn't give its parents a choice in where their children are placed mid-year. I've learned what I thought I would have control over, I don't.

You have to send your kid where ever there is room in a Minneapolis school within busing routes from your home. I hate to say, in our neighborhood, that's the poor test score schools where I fear our daughter wouldn't receive attention she needs because her needs would pale in comparison with her peers.

We have an interview with the principal of a private K-8 school just to see what that's about. It seems more in line with what we want: a somewhat sheltered environment where Rosie could grow and adjust and stay put for a few years. This kid will need some stability. If she hates it, next year we can evaluate public schools again. In fact, we need to continue our tours because we have send the district our placement cards no later than January 31 for the 2011 school year.

Yet, I have no idea about any of this and I've never felt less certain about anything except this strange feeling within me telling me what's right for a child I've never met. Crazy.

Surfing with my head under water

Just when I think I have stopped freaking out about one part of being a parent and am coasting, I get hit with another wave of fear. What is causing the fear today?

The few times I've mentioned to a coworker that "we're touring schools" I stop breathing for a split second. Then I can't stop smiling but not out of joy. Nope I it's just a grin of "i have no idea of what the heck I'm doing." 

Then I walk away from the encounter, I catch my breath, and I feel resolved by saying no parents know what they're doing. We'll be fine, I think. Then I push aside the thought of school all together even when I'm scheduling interviews to do tours.

So far I only have one set up. It's at Marcy Open School, in Northeast Minneapolis, and it was recommended to me by a parent. Parents seem to be my life saver right now--they know what kind of games 9-year-olds like; they have suggestions for schools; and they calm me down when my breath has caught in my throat, and I'm about to pass out.

THANK YOU parent friends because what I have learned is that school administrators are even busier than I am.  So they are of no help because they don't call back, they don't answer emails, and they don't answer the phones. The Marcy school's tour coordinator did--thank you, Sidney.

This might all seem premature, but the social workers continue to ask where we'll send Rosie for school so it's really necessary. I'm starting with public schools and will try private schools next.  The other stressor is that of course no school administrators can meet after work--which I completely understand, but a half day here and a half day there add up.

Short and Jubilant Post

November 17th is the next big day! The day we meet with foster parents, teachers, and therapists of Rosie. From there, we decide whether or not we want to parent her. Of course, we'll be making an impression on all these people as well. So they could, I suppose, decide we aren't a good fit.

So keep your fingers crossed...more to come.