So today I dropped our homestudy in the mail to the INS and to our agency.
Whats the saying? On a wing and a prayer?
I want to take a moment to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone who stops by here. The ones that comment, and those that don't.
You honor me with your presence, silent, commenting, or just thinking good thoughts while you're here. There are times when I just come to my blog and re-read my entries and the comments that are left and just feel better.
Y'all are awe inspiring.
Now, I know I've dropped the bomb and then just pretty much walked away from the whole one or two baby issue.
For the record: We were devistated when we heard. I was so upset I pretty much (see, when I'm flustered, I use the same verbage over and over again) shut down and slept for a few days. Yea, did I remember to mention that it was two days before Christmas? Merry effing Christmas!? eh?
So here we are a few weeks later. We're used to the idea. We've accepted it, and we've almost embraced it. Give us a few more weeks and we'll be OK. We've been thinking "kids" for so long that "kid" sounds funny to us.
People have mentioned to me that we might want to switch agencies. When we originally did our research, I hunted high and low for an agency that would meet our needs. This one meets them and more. I have enjoyed working with them, and the fact that the owner/president of the agency has called us herself several times with news (this latest news came straight from her), meant that she cares for us. For all her parents. I respect that immensely.
So where does that leave us? Adjusting to the idea of one child this time. Next time ... and there will be a next time ... we can go back for two next time.
Right now our baby's room is filled with boxes. There is no light in there. To see the window, I have to climb on the ladder. Boxes are stacked five high. There is a full 10 square feet (YAY) of walking space. When we left Texas, we left behind a house of 3700 square feet. Everything we brought with us is stuffed into a 12x14 foot room and a very small storage closet beneith the stairs. We have a grand total of 900 square feet here.
I'm not complaining. Trust me. I'm stating facts. I haven't been this happy with my personal life or career in a very very very long time. It is an adjustment.
I love my life, I love this snapshot in time that I am experiencing. Once child will have the undivided attention of both of us, that undivided love and affection that will help him or her form a firm foundation to build their life on.
Two children is in the past and an event I won't comment on until that is our ... next step.
Now our cat. TJ is one of the most precious, fun, sassy, and little snot of a cat you'd ever meet. He's been with me since he was 4 weeks old. He was my graduation from college present from myself. He'll be 12 in May.
Now the issue: Thomas Jefferson (TJ) is a crotchety old man. He loves anyone over the age of 13. Kids, they get three warnings. Hiss, Pat with no claws, and claws full on. Usually this is while the kid is pulling him from under the bed or out of a closet that he's hidden himself in.
I am so concerned that he will not be able to handle it when we have a new child in our home that I actually have asked my parents if they would like him.
You know what? It turns out that my parents and my sister are fighting over him. I have a feeling that he will summer in Massachusetts and winter in Atlanta. How awesome is that?
I have not taken this lightly. It, frankly, is killing me. However, I could not feel more humbled over their love for their grand- or nephew-kitty, respectively.
I respect TJ's right to have a happy life. And unfortunately, once the baby comes home, it cannot be with us.
And that breaks my heart. But it is what is best for him.