Tuesday, March 31, 2009

No Meeting

No meeting today.

10 days remain on the deadline that was issued 50 days ago.

And gee, after having a problem of this magnitude
hang over your head for 50 days,
what's 10 more?

I didn't know that the blood pressure in my head could feel so high.
My attitude has reached an all-time record on the "bad" scale.
My pessimism has reached an all-time high.
Or would that be low?
My nerves are shot.
My well is dry.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Where's a punching bag when you need one?

I've spent the better part of the afternoon trying to control my anger and blood pressure. Because guess what? More problems. Problems that in a thousand years, I could not have dreamed up or anticipated.

I feel trapped in a bad dream, and I just want a break.

Even if I don't get a break from continuing crappy news this week, I am in for a break this weekend. The poor Mister is freaked out about my emotional state after my angry flip out this afternoon. So, the dear man is sending me away for an out-of-state Girl's Getaway later this week and weekend, where I can sleep in all I want, drink all the margaritas I want, and forget about this entire adoption hell for a few days.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Computer Break

I'm turning off the computer for a while.

This flu is kicking my dupa. I still can't go 90 seconds without a coughing fit or having to blow my nose. I'm exhausted beyond belief and have zero appetite. I am having a difficult time focusing my thoughts, and when I stop to take inventory of what "needs" to get done, I completely fizzle out.

I'm just at one of those moments in my life where I feel like I have nothing under control. I am behind on everything and feel utterly overwhelmed. I cry at the drop of a hat and don't know where to begin.

The computer just adds to my feeling panicked and increases the noise in my head, so I think it's best that I break from it for a bit. Once I am physically recovered from this darn flu and have a grasp on the day-to-day, I promise to be back. Also, if there is huge adoption news, I promise to post that too. But don't hold your breath on that last one :)

Have a great (and healthy) week!

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Next Fall, I'm getting the flu shot

It's not the stomach flu this time around (thank goodness), but my sinus/ear infection certainly wasn't bacterial. The antibiotics have yet to do any good, while the fever, chills and headaches keep getting worse.

The Mister came home from his trip late last night, sick with this flu. His body has some voodoo-like ability (ancient Chamorro secret, he says) to process the flu in 12 hours flat. The dear man is staying home this morning to take care of me. Right now I can hear him trying to maintain an upbeat happy voice while coaxing Paloma to get dressed in less than 30 minutes, all the while she maintains an endless chatter about anything and everything (except getting dressed.)

That girl takes "island time" to a whole new level :)

I have a lot of paperwork to do for the second time and send to Haiti. Paperwork I sent a while back, so it needs to be resent to guarantee that it is available when needed. I'm stressed because it requires a trip to a notary, but I feel horrible, and I want it there by next Wednesday. At the same time though, my 'dream' plan requires the USCIS/US Consulate to work at a pace that they have never quite worked at before, so I know that it's probably not worth making myself even more worn down for.

Yet, if I don't at least try, then I feel like I'm failing the boys somehow.

The whole thing has me frustrated and in tears. This whole hope of having the boys home soon has me feeling like I'm just setting myself up for disappointment. I know that my headache and fever is affecting my attitude, and tempering the way I see and feel about things

If I could somehow just learn to live on Paloma's island time, life would be so much simpler.

I have a lot to learn from my little island beauty.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Delivery Day

Today and tomorrow, the Mister is away, staying in a big fancy room at a swanky hotel, where there's a fancy pool with potted palm trees. He is there for business; the children and I were going to be there for a little getaway.

Until, Mom got sick.

A sinus infection, right ear infection, fever and chills is keeping me down for the count. Poor Hatfield had the same thing, but she recovered much more quickly.

I scored with the fact that the next door neighbor teen/babysitter is on Spring Break with nothing to do. So I hired her to come and play with the kids, while I laid in bed and slept.

Then I awoke, showered, and hobbled my stuffy, medicated head into both the Post Office and Target.

At Target, my "I-ruined-my-family's-vacation" guilt enticed me to make an impulse purchase of the movie Bolt.

I love Rhino. He's so darn cute.

And if that wasn't enough, I then ordered Chinese Delivery for dinner.

The kids loved it.
They raved
and oohed
and aahed
(we rarely eat out/get delivery,
so it's an extra special treat
when we do),
and each had two helpings.

I couldn't smell or taste the deliciousness.

Now I am counting down the hours until bedtime.

And until the Mister returns home.

And until I can breathe again out of both nostrils.

Although right now, I'd happily settle for one.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Just to Clarify Our 'Just in Case'

I've been receiving emails,
phone calls,
and Face Book comments,
all congratulating me that the boys
are about to be home.

Which are all so heartfelt and lovely,
that I hate having to point this out,
but I must, so I don't get too many hopes up.

Just to clarify my Just in Case posts below.

Our plan is NOT a slam dunk.

Quite the contrary.

Our plan is a

Full Court,
Hail Mary Attempt.

And those don't succeed very often.

But every once in a while,
it does work.

And that is what we are preparing for
and praying over.

Just in case.

Edited to add: Additionally,
our meeting has been moved.
To the 31st.
Stretching that already loooonnnggg Hail Mary shot
a little bit longer.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Dinner with a Home School Family

Atticus: "Dad, scientists believe that volcanoes spit out fiery rock called magma from the earth."

The Mister: "Actually, did you guys know that the earth is like an Orange? And that the peel is like the crust of the earth, and the rest of it is melted rock?"

Hatfield, giving Mom a look, clears her throat. "Actually, Dad, the Earth is made up of the Crust, the Mantle, the Outer Core and the Inner Core. And it's not all fiery rock."

The Mister: "Yes, well, the peel, you see, is kind of like the land, and the rest can be. . ." his voice trails off as he sees Hatfield and I exchange mutual looks.

Hatfield: "Not really, Dad."

The Mrs.: "This is why Mom is your teacher."

Hatfield, Atticus and Paloma all nod.

The Mister: "It's a humbling moment when your children realize you're the village idiot."

The Mrs., nodding sympathetically: "No village would be complete without one, dear."

Thoughts on Starting Your Own Business

When I decided to begin my own business, I was riddled with fears and doubts:

1) I was very doubtful about the idea of 'selling.' The entire idea of 'selling' made me feel uncomfortable. I didn't--and still don't--like the idea of pressuring anyone, so I thought maybe I was too wishy washy.

2) I was afraid that no one would come to my Kick Off Show, and I was afraid that I would never be able to develop a network. You know, like being a kid and being terrified that no one would come to your birthday party.

3) I was afraid of failing. And, if I'm completely honest, looking and feeling stupid. There is already enough in my life I feel like a stupid failure, and I'm not too fond of the thought of adding to that list.

When I decided to take the plunge, I had a long talk with my director supervisor, Rae Ann, where I shared all of my doubts and fears with her. She helped me work through each one by sharing her own experiences, as she too had the same set of fears prior to beginning her business.

As a close to our conversation, she mentioned what a blessing this business has been to her life. She commented that she feels saddened because some people are so close-minded to this opportunity, and she wishes they could understand just what a blessing it can be.

I now understand what she means.

Financially, the blessings have been undeniable. In the 3 months, I've had my own business, I've made more per hour than I ever have in my life. In fact, I made more in the first 7 weeks of my business, averaging about 1 show a week, than I made in working 15-22 hours a week for 3 months at the payment process center. What I find really amusing about that is I purposely started myself off at a "slow" pace. I didn't want to set my sights so big that I would burn out or become discouraged. I wanted to baby step my way into this. So imagine what I can do when I get up to full steam speed ahead!

The benefits are so much more than financial. My enthusiasm and positive attitude towards my business has spread into my life. I feel more confident and more upbeat about situations. I like the fact that my children see me excited. I like the fact that they see me helping other people improve their home environment and family life and health.

My kids love my Norwex business. Everytime an order arrives for me to process, they clamor around the kitchen table and help fill orders. One calls out the orders, the other grabs the items, the third bags them. They act and feel like a team.

Last week I received my first Consultant Reward Kit for reaching one for the company sales goals in February. You would have thought I won the lottery by my excited reaction! To work hard for myself and then to be rewarded for myself was something entirely new! Prior to this, I was used to working my tail off in a law firm for a full year, to earn my measly "cost of living" adjustment, plus a 1-2% raise. While the partners earned $75,000 year bonuses. I'm not saying that it was wrong of the partners to earn that, but I now question my wisdom in finding that structure acceptable for myself and settling for it.

Yet I think the greatest blessings I have received is knowing that I have helped other women make their lives easier (okay, that is a completely sexist statement, but I have yet have a man attend a show, so I'm only speaking from experience.) With every item purchased, I know that someone has made their home cleaner, their lives healthier, their pocketbooks fuller in the long run, their trashcans lighter, and their stress levels lower because cleaning because so much less time consuming and difficult.

When I see the postive returns, I am feel ashamed of my initial fears. But the important thing is that I did not let my doubts and fears define my life and actions. It took me a long time to learn that lesson, but now that I have, I am so excited to see what life will bring tomorrow.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Adoption Update

So, here's the plan.

Our USCIS meeting,
between USCIS personnel,
our creche director
and the two attorneys representing our sons,
will be held
Monday, March 30.

Dear Jill is going to Haiti on April 2nd
and will be returning home April 6th.

Along with her will be a Power of Attorney
giving her permission to take our boys out of the country with her.

Just in case.

EDIT: Jumping in to add the Mister's poetry
to this post:

There once was a lady named Jill,
Who went to a creche on a hill,
She came back with two boys,
and backpacks with toys,
And provided my wife her best thrill!

Crossing my fingers,
hoping that Jill calls us to say
'shell out some money,
I need two one-way tickets!'

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Guess Where the Mister is Right Now?

Two months ago, Atticus and I were at our weekly violin lesson. We began discussing what piece Mr. Atticus would play in the May recital.

"Now, we need to decide on what duet piece you two will be playing together!" his teacher enthusiastically bubbled.

Say what?

will play, right?" she asked.

"Okay," I said, "I really can't expect my children to participate in recitals if I'm not willing to, right?"

Yet, I wonder if she failed to realize that when I play the violin, I sound like I'm playing the freakin' bagpipes. Truly.

"Oh, it's been years since I had a parent play," she gushed on.

There's a reason for that, I thought.

"You are going to make all those other Moms just sitting on their duffs in the audience green with envy. . green, I tell you!" The teacher was giddy

Green with envy? At me? Okay, the shallow, competitive SuperMom side of me can totally handle that one.

So, we chose a piece. Upon our return home, Atticus raced into the house before me.

"Guess what?!?" he shrieked to the Mister. "Mom's going to play in the recital. . .with me!!!"

The Mister raised an eyebrow. "You're playing in the violin recital? Really? THAT'S SO AWESOME! What a wonderful example you're setting for the children. . . yadee yadee yadee."

As he was running off at the mouth, I realized that the Mister was never home to hear me play. So he was unaware of the bagpipe factor.

Yet, I smiled wanly and thanked him for his support.

Little did I know, he would soon get his.

The very next afternoon, at Hatfield's dance lesson, the teacher handed out sign-up sheets for the Spring Recital Dad's Dance. Yes indeed, each year, a group of Dad's (or Grandpa's, or Whomever, but Menfolk) get together and perform in the recital. Both as a group of Dad's, and then together, Dads and Kids.

You can bet your bottom dollar that the Mister was the first dad signed up!

When the Mister came home that afternoon, it was Hatfield who ran to him first.

"GUESS WHAT?!?" she shrieked. "There's a Dad's Dance in the Recital. And YOU get to BE in it!"

"Say what?"

"The Dad's Dance! All the Dad's do a dance together at the recital, and then they all do a dance with us kids! It's going to be awesome!!!" she shrieked.

Now it was
my turn: "THAT'S SO AWESOME! What a wonderful example you're setting for the children. . . yadee yadee yadee."

He smiled wanly. "Great. Sounds like fun."

Now, just so you all know, the Mister is one heck of a dancer. For many of his childhood years, he took native Chamorro dancing, and performed all over Western Washington.

This time around, he doesn't even have to wear a loin cloth, for goodness sake! You'd think that he'd be
thanking me for that one!

All joking aside, I'm proud of my mister. Every Thursday night, from February through early May, the Mister goes to practice his fresh moves with the other dads from 9:30 to 10:30 pm. And there are about 40 guys there. Some veterans have been doing the Dad's Dance for 5+ years now. Even 3 Dad's from our old 'hood are there.

They practice Driving the Escaladeez. Bouncin' the Ball. I think they even do a Shine On, Shine Off Mr. Miyagi move.

I even hear that one stud there can throw down a good back spin.

Sometimes, when they do a really good job, they'll give each other pats on the butts. Just like their old football glory days.

Or native Chamorro Dance Team glory days.

Those were some good glory days, too.

Thank you, Mister.
For being the Dad that you are.

Just In Case

A while back I committed myself to putting the adoption on my brains back burner so I could just focus on everyday living.

Given the fact that the adoption is in a precarious situation and needed time to be done correctly, that was pretty easy to do.

I have been working nonstop on a book editing job I picked up as freelance work. Taking a book from the initial editing to preparing it to be self-published through a publishing company. I have found the entire experience awesome, exhilarating and fun. Completely time-consuming, I've been staying up late and waking up early to work on it.

When one is immersed in a time-consuming, all-encompassing task, it is easy to lose sight of the calendar.

I realized that Tuesday was St. Patty's day, which is no big deal in a Chamorro household. I mean, it wasn't the Irish Inquisition that changed the island's history, after all.

Yet, today when I turned on my cell phone (look at me, being all 21st century!), and the date

March 19, 2009

glowed big and bright

it took the wind out of my sails.

March is nearly over.

Miss Jill, my dear friend who lives a block over, is going to Haiti next month to do some mission work. I'm so envious. I contemplated going with her, until I found out how much plane tickets were (Spring Break prices), which quickly squashed my contemplation.

In January, Jill called me one morning. "I just had a dream," she began, "that I was in Haiti, and Sara E. called me, celebrating that your boys' Visa's were ready but that you didn't know. So I called you, and you could barely hear me, and I was so excited that I was shouting, 'Should I bring them home? Do you want me to get them?'"

Duh, girlfriend!

My mother, dear prophetic Jimmy, who has always so accurately nailed many predictions about my life (like I'd marry an Asian man and adopt children), has always said that she felt my boys would be home in April. Disappointed though, she felt she was wrong because last April came and went.

But maybe, actually, she had her April's confused.

Maybe it is this April.

And dream-gifted Jill is going to be in Haiti this April.

This little dream/scheme that we concocted up
is all together
too beautiful and too painful,
at the same time.

we still emailed
Sara E.
to find out what type of paperwork
Jill would need to take with her.
Just in case
dreams do come true.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Why Norwex?

First of all, WHAT is Norwex?

Norwex Enviro Products is a company committed to radically reducing the use of chemicals in cleaning and personal care. The reduction promotes health and reduces the risks of poisoning and disease.

Norwex stands for Norwegian Experience. Norwex "clean without chemicals" began in Norway in 1994, soon after microfiber was first manufactured in Sweden. It was manufactured for the purpose of cleaning scientific and medical laboratories without introducing chemicals into the laboratory environment. The scientists realized that all chemicals leave behind a residue, which can compromise the integrity of scientific research, so they wanted to create a system which cleans 100% effectively with only water. Hence the creation of microfiber. In 1999, Norwex expanded to Canada, and it is sold through the home party network (think Pampered Chef, Lia Sophia, etc.).

Norwex is the word leader in Microfiber technology. Microfiber is the the perfect blend of polyester and polyamide, 1/100th the size of a strand of human hair. Our Antibacterial Microfiber combines the microfiber with an antibacterial silver-based agent, so that antibacterial silver is embedded in the cloth. The silver destroys the bacteria which is picked up in the fibers of the cloth, so the cloth is continually sanitzing and refreshing itself.

Microfiber works well because it traps in dirt, grime, dust and bacteria. Where as other cleaning cloths just smear the dirt, bacteria and cleaning chemcials around on the surface you are trying to clean (ewww), microfiber cloths physically remove the bacteria, leaving you with a chemical-free, clean, highly-polished surface.

For more information, please go here.

Why I, as a Consumer, Love Using Norwex Products:

1) They all clean REALLY well. 99.94% surface bacteria are removed.
2) I use only pure water to clean with the microfiber cloths. No more hauling around, or mixing, chemicals.
3) My kids can all use it safely. I don't worry about exposing them to any chemicals. I give them all a spray bottle of water and a cloth, and let them go to town. Plus, they think it's FUN.
4) The cloths dust beautifully, trapping all the dust, not smearing it all about or kicking it up into the air.
5) The window/mirror/glass cloths are voodoo. I still can't figure out how they work so well.
6) I shaved a good 75% off the time I spend cleaning (I'm actually caught up now.)
7) I save money by reducing the use of chemcials and cleaning supplies by up to 90%. The average home spends between $450-600 a year on cleaning items.
8) I drastically reduce the amount of waste I'm adding to the landfills each year. No more paper towels, Clorox wipes, sponges (ewww), huge jugs of Tide, etc.

Later, I will post on my experiences starting and running my own business. The posts may seem a bit piecemeal at first, but on my "new and improved" blog, I will have Norwex info on my sidebars with links to these posts.

I had a difficult time narrowing down exactly what I wanted to title this post.

Stepping Outside of One's Comfort Zone
Never Say Never
What Am I Doing?

For the past year or so, I've been very content being a stay at home, homeschool mom. I've never had much interest in having a 'job' so to speak, unless necessitated by financial demands,

Really, the times I have worked outside the home I did my best to enjoy, but I knew it wasn't really for me. I don't like office politics and dynamics. I don't like punching a clock. I don't like flurorescent lighting. I could respect and work hard to support a company's mission statement and goals, but my heart was never in it.

What's the saying? Find out what you love, and then make it your job and it will never feel like work. Well, every time I stepped foot out of the home to earn money, it felt like work.

Homeschooling doesn't feel like work to me. I mean, I know that it is. It's tough. But I love it. My heart and mind are fully vested in it.

My family has always come first in my life, and the structure of my day reflects that. Other loves/passions/hobbies that I have are my faith, my gardening, natural living and eating, knitting. I used to joke that if I could find a job selling home vegetable gardens or promoting a vegetarian lifestyle, I would do it.

Last fall, I was invited to one of the home parties, for a company called Norwex that sells natural cleaning products. Right up my alley, except 1) I rarely if ever attended these parties and 2) we still had some significant adoption fees to pay for, and Cliff's commission structure was lessened, and we were broke.

But, the allure of the company of good friends and good coffee (in a child-free environment) won me out and I went. Plus I had friends who had nearly a cult-like following of the product, as they are so (loudly) in love with the stuff. So I found myself sitting in my friend's home.

And I listened. And I watched.

There's no arguing, the company's products clean well. REALLY well. But they have some mighty big claims about their safety, and the whole microfiber concept was new to me.

And although intrigued, I left empty-handed. Because I'm always skeptical of claims made by any corporation.

But for the next few weeks, all I could think was about Norwex. The Mister helped me to a bit of research on the company. I read through all of their scientific studies. I called the gal who brought Norwex to Wisconsin and talked at length with her about it. I tried out some of their products.

Prior to all of this, I have been praying for a long time for financial blessings. The adoption has drained us. I feel badly about the stress the Mister feels to do well. He's a driven man, so I know that he would feel this stress anyways, but the adoption costs add to it.

A pile of money never dropped out of the sky, which was my secret hope. But suddenly though, I realized that here I was being given an opportunity to earn money in a way that was in line with my values, beliefs, interests and passions. When it came down to it, I love everything about Norwex. It falls into the category of "Do what you love, and it won't feel like work."

And one day, when the Mister and I were driving along, I completely surprised myself by saying, "I think I want to sell Norwex."

Now, I've never wanted to sell anything. In fact, I have told the Mister, who is in sales, that while I have a HUGE amount of respect for people who are in the sales industry, I NEVER WOULD EVER sell anything. Never. I'm completely comfortable being at home in my own little world of children and homeschool.

For the past year, I have watched my stepsister build her own Lia Sophia business. I have watched her social circles, her positive and upbeat nature and her confidence grow. I have watched her step outside her comfort zone, and while at times experience set backs of momentary defeat, watch her reap the rewards from being willing to do so with an I-won't-give-up attitude.

She is a huge inspiration to me.

I have been tossing the idea around of creating a second blog for my business end of things. But, for now, I have decided against it. I blog about a whole array of things here: family life, motherhood, adoption, random thoughts. My Norwex business has become a family business of sorts, and we are all enjoying this ride together. So I think for now, it best belongs here.

So stay tuned. I will be mixing in my fledgling business experiences, product reviews, successes and failures, right in along side of adoption rants, mommy raves and reflections on life in general.

Monday, March 16, 2009

33 Months in the Making. . .It's Finally Finished!

When we moved into our home, our family room was painted "Elephant Peanut Candy."

The previous owners, in a stroke of brilliance, even painted the ceramic wall scones "Elephant Peanut Candy."

When the light switch flicked to "on," the room was ablaze in neon "Elephant Peanut Candy."

Prior to all of this, I loved those little candies.

Now the thought of those little orange peanuts makes me want to hurl.

We painted the room, and made it "okay."

But the physical dimensions of the room, along with the huge wall of multi-hued fireplace, made me truly wonder if the room would ever be anything but a complete disaster.

Two years, several cans of paint and a bottle of wine to fortify our resolve to actually paint brick, we painted the whole room and all the brick white.

Stark, yes, but I found it breathable.

Yet try as I did, the idiocy of the previous owners kept popping up here and there.

Like this little discovery, when we found out they didn't move the bookshelf when laying new carpet and painting the room. No, they just worked right around it.

The Nestor wrote a few brilliant posts, like this one, which inspired me. And a plan began to take shape.

I co-conspired with Jimmy and we worked like busy little mice on the room and it's furnishings.

This past weekend, while we were away, Jimmy and Boppa were little Room Elves, and put the finishing touches on the family.

And we are done.

And I love it.

We went from this:

to this:

to this:

To help rectify the "carpet issue" we had, Boppa cut a strip of carpet from in under the fireplace and filled in the area under the bookshelf that those people were too lazy to move. He then laid and grouted tile under the hearth.

My mom did a fabulous job on the window cornice.

We took my old, banged up coffee table--which had become the 'Ponyville Play Station' in the basement, and we painted/distressed it Antique Red.

Sorry about the Pony Station, Pona.

But a Mom's gotta do what a Mom's gotta do.
And in this case, I needed to claim the that table for the whole family.

Sunday, March 15, 2009


Today it is 53 sunny degrees.

It is glorious.

So I put on my running shoes,

Grabbed my trusty K9 sidekick Wanda,

and we went running through the puddles.

Do you know that when you run
with a grinning Border Collie,
your run feels lighter and easier?

It is true.

Last Week, our veterinarian told us that
Wanda is blind in her gold eye.
Her blue eye is good.

We were sad, but not Wanda.
She does not let it slow her down.

Did you know that the Border Collie is
the #1 Most Intelligent Dog?
It is true;
I have NO doubt.

I am a proud doggie mama.
Maybe I should get this bumper sticker:

Today has been a Glorious Day.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Why I Love Being in My 30's

I find myself greatly annoyed every time I am subjected to a young woman's melodramatic woe-is-me/it's-the-end-of-the-world hysterics as she approaches the big 3-0. At first, I just roll my eyes and let it be. As she continues to escalate the drama as her birthday draws nearer, I find myself biting my tongue.

Hard. Enough to draw blood.

Puhleeze, sisters. Spare not only me, but the rest of our sister-kind. Let's approach this date with dignity, shall we?

I LOVE being in my thirties. I was more than happy to leap right out of those twenties.

I credit my mother with my attitude. She always said, "When you're 30, you really come into your own. You're settled, established in life and identity. It's a relief."

And she's damn right, in my humble opinion.

I spent the vast part of my twenties being S-T-U-P-I-D. People also treated me and every other twenty-something as such, and although I was quite indignant towards them, for the most part, those people were right.

I mean, I wasn't ALL stupid. I made some damn smart and good decisions. Like having/keeping Hatfield. Ditching a philandering fiance. Eloping with the Mister after only meeting him, in person, 3 times. Many people banked on the fact that the last was a stupid decision, but 9 years later, who's laughing now?

I love being in my thirties because I finally no longer care what other people think. I feel settled in my life. I have a home, kids, a Mister. I don't stress about my identity.

Even when trying on swimsuits, I spent a moment horrified at the mirror's reflection, because I did not recognize the thighs I was seeing.

Or more specifically, the lumpy lumps on the thighs I was seeing.

But I'm in my thirties. So I shrugged and thought, Who cares?

In my thirties, I feel much sexier than I did in my twenties. Sex in your thirties is way better as well, because you have more confidence. I think a lot of women spend much of their twenties thinking that trying to be sophisticated and attractive and alluring to men make you s*xy.

And you know what? It really doesn't. Being real does. Being authentic does.

What's the saying? Beauty fades, dumb is forever? Well, I'd like to add that having an ass you can bounce a quarter off of only lasts for 9.3% of your life. So you best be having some other finer qualities once you hit the 9.4%

One thing that I really like about my 30s is that I am really starting to get that THIS IS MY ONE SHOT. And DAYS GO BY QUICKLY.

TODAY is a very good time to start something you have always wanted to.

I'm also starting to get that:
It is Okay to Fail.
It is Okay to Try Again.
And Again.
And Again.
Better to try and fail
than sit on your keister and
lament in your 50's that you wasted your 30s.

In my thirties I have no developed the confidence to Step Outside the Box. Leap Out of My Comfort Zone. And Not Care if I Stumble.

And I have.

In my thirties, I had the confidence to start an adoption.
Without caring that other people think having 5 kids is insane.
I changed my circle of influence, because I could.
And now I think a family with 5 kids is kinda dinky in size!

In my thirties, I took control of my children's education.
I deemed what was unacceptable as truly that: unacceptable.
And I did something about it.
I ignored the naysayers.
And I (and my family) are reaping the rewards.

In my thirties, I did not run away from a situation that I would have in my twenties.
I stuck through a horrible ordeal.
I learned to forgive and ask for forgiveness.
And I learned that when you are willing to roll up your sleeves,
and do what's right,
even if it is tough and dirty,
things will become better
than you could have ever imagined
in your twenties.

In my thirties, I took up running.
I'm training for a half marathon.
13.1 miles is more than I ran in all my twenties combined!

In my thirties, I am taking up Crossfit.
I have the Mister to thank for the encouragement.
I have myself to thank because I really don't care if I look like a big knob in front of him.
He will still find me s*xy.
And he will always love me, no matter what.

Since the first of the year, this year I turned 34, I started my own business.
Never really thought I'd do that.
Actually, two businesses.
Never ever thought I'd do that.

But I'll post on that later.

So come on, girls.
ENJOY this decade.
Leave the Young and the Dumb Club
(as my mother so lovingly puts it)
far behind you.

The best is yet to come.

Thursday, March 12, 2009


Last night, Hatfield and I went swimsuit shopping. Here is my letter to swimming suit designers for women:

Dear Women Swimsuit Designers & the Stores Who Sell that Crap:

I hate you. Really, truly, I do. I know it's not Christian of me, yet I have NO intention of asking for forgiveness in this matter. I truly think you all will rightfully burn in Hell, right next to all those "compassionate" USCIS folks.

Tell me something, Designer People. How is that I wear a size -- jeans, yet the size of my swimsuit bottom must double that number? Do you think this makes a woman feel good? Do you think that a woman wants to purchase a suit with that number splashed across the tag? No!

Haven't you learned that a 10 is the new 4? You should. You would probably sell a whole lot more swimsuits that way.

As for you stores, I was watching Good Morning America on Tuesday, and a shopping "expert" was explaining how stores "entice" consumers to consume by slanting mirrors so the shopper looks taller, leaner and leggier.

Clearly, Bathing Suit Department Manager, you missed that marketing class.

Don't you know that I would be more apt to buy more swimsuits if your mirrors made me look good? And why can't you understand the concept of "Soft and Gentle Lighting?" Don't you know that your lighting makes my ghostly white skin and blue varicose veins look like I'm in a nightclub flooded with blacklights?

I'm guessing that your IQ's fall somewhere below the 80 mark.

Get a clue.
Mrs. C.

* * * * * * *

Now, onto my next beef: girls and junior swimsuits.

Dear Designers of Girl and Junior Swimsuits, and the Stores Which Sell Such Crap:

I hate you. Really, truly, I do. I hate you even more than I hate the Women Swimsuit designers because this involves my baby girl. So now you have my mother rage against you all. I hope you all get stuck in a Sisyphean hell where you are forced to wear teen girl swimsuits day after day, in bad lighting.

Now for you Girl Swimsuit Designers. Please, explain to me why a 3 T swimsuit fit my very small 18 month old perfectly? And my tiny 3T-clothing child must wear a size 5 swimsuit? You have the same problem as the Women Designers, only in reverse. Why can't my size 12/14 daughter wear a 12/14 swimsuit? Why can't a size 16 work for her?

My daughter is only 10 1/2. She is of average size and wears a size 12/14. Tell me why, then, I should have to go into a junior swimwear department.

I'm going to make this blanket statement about junior/preteen swimwear designers:


Because what grown adult on this earth would want a 13 to look this "s*xy" except a pedophile?

And as far as our "One Piece" options, I was supposed to find this acceptable?

I mean, seriously, you expect me to put a swimsuit like that on my 10 year old?!? Would you seriously put that on your 12 year old?

Too Disgusted for Any Further Words to You Swimsuit Designing Scum of the Earth,
Mrs. C.

* * * * * * * *

My brain is Fried.

The swimsuit excursion was the last straw. My brain has now turned into a substance shockingly similar to the pink cotton candy Miss Paloma and Mr. Atticus mowed down at the Circus last weekend.

Ah, wholesome cuteness.
Something pre-teen/teen swimsuit designers obviously never heard about.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009


Today, I am struggling with feelings of sadness.

I trust that my little boys WILL be home.

But I am sad that they are not here.

I am struggling with feelings of envy for others who have files moving in positive directions. It brings my heart great joy anytime someone gets their children out of Haiti. It's a victory for all of us adopting families.

But, I would like my turn. I've been waiting in line far longer than many others. Yet our files sit (understandably, for the moment), waiting for good movement, yet the knowledge that what could happen next may not be good is never far from my mind.

Ever since I was little, I wanted a houseful of kids. I must have read Cheaper by the Dozen a dozen times! In sixth grade, while walking home with Sarah K., I told her that someday I would like to have a dozen children.

Well, I still want that houseful of kids. I love and adore and am so grateful for my 3 precious blessings here at home! But I long for my little ones in Haiti to join us here at home.

Every day I look at these little backpacks on their door.

Did you know that owls are very patient waiters? Nary a complaint escapes their beaks.

I remember how those two ran around and around the Guesthouse courtyard, Keenan wearing his over his belly, Miles on his back. Those little backpacks so much larger than their little bodies.

If I'm really still, I can hear their little voices mix in with those of my children here at home.

I can sense their little presences in my home.

I can imagine how it will feel to bend over three beds to kiss three little boys good night.

The reality of this wait saddens my heart.
The promises of those blessings make my spirit soar.

Monday, March 09, 2009

Few things in life

Few things in life

are as cute as a Kid In Glasses.

I could look at this face all day.

Actually, I do.

But I love to!

Sunday, March 08, 2009

Shine On

You light up my life
You give me hope
To carry on
You light up my days (and my family room)
and fill my nights with song

Rollin' at sea, adrift on the water
Could it be finally I'm turning for home?

Finally, a chance to say hey,I love You
Never again to be all alone (in the dark bathroom)

You light up my life
You give me hope
To carry on
You light up my days (and China Hutch)
and fill my nights with song

It can't be wrong (just switch off the darn circuit breaker!)
When it feels so right (to check things off that Honey-Do List)

'Cause You, Mister,
You light up my life
(in addition to the last lone family room light,
the new bathroom fixture to replace the 1975 relic, and
my lovely china hutch, which has sat dim since we moved here in 2006)

Friday, March 06, 2009

To be continued. . .

The meeting did not take place.

We are waiting for translation of legal documents. Having worked in law offices here in the States, I know how slowly it all works. Now imagine that in Haiti.

The documents are in French legal-ease, and we need to have it translated into English legal-ease. And we prefer that nothing important gets lost in translation.

I'm not frustrated with this yet. It is imperative that the documents handed in be perfect. There is no room for error. After hearing all that went into the preparation of these documents, I feel assured that this matter is being taken very seriously.

And really, I'd rather wait an extra week or two and have it be done right the first time. Rushing things in Haiti seems to ensure mistakes which then ensures a very extended wait, much longer than the time needed to do it right the first time 'round.

So I'm afraid that's all I can report for now. And I'm afraid all I can end this with is the all-too-familiar catch phrase of Haitian Adoption:

To Be Continued. . . .

Thursday, March 05, 2009

No News Yet

I know there are a few of you stalking my blog today for news, so I'm letting you off the hook for the rest of the night:we haven't heard anything from Haiti yet. USCIS hasn't emailed, and our agency has not had any luck getting in touch with the creche director.

But, no news doesn't mean bad news. It just means that the lines to Haiti are always tied up. And some of you out there *know* all too well how that goes.

I promise to let you all know as soon as I hear anything.

And thank you for checking in on us. It's such an honor and comfort to know how much you all love us and that you're all rooting for us. I love my little blogging family out there.


Today's the Day

Today's the day of the big Pow Wow with USCIS, our creche director and her attorney, regarding our files. If you have a moment and can say a prayer, cross a finger or send a positive thought in our direction, we would be so grateful.

It's 7 am and I'm still in my pj's, drinking coffee and trying to recover from yesterday's trip to the vet with two cats and three kids. The cats are not fond of the vet, as evidenced by one of the cats jumping up and climbing to the very tippy top of the room's wall unit, necessitating the vet assistant's retrieval of a ladder. But the cat would just run to the other end of that wall shelf unit, so the assistant would need to climb down and drag it to the other side. And then the cat would run back to the other end. And so on and so forth.

All the while, one of the children behaved in such a manner befitting a zoo animal, and I was tempted to ask for an animal tranquilizer of sorts, either for myself or that child.

It was a grand time.
For over a $100.

I'm pretty sure they snuck in
some sort of "Client From Hell" surcharge in there.

My mom wants for all of us to go to the museum today, and after yesterday's vet disaster, I find myself questioning the wisdom of that.

But yet, I know we'll go, against my Mama's instinct.

And I know that tomorrow I'll be posting a diabtribe on Why You Should Always Listen To Your Mama's Instinct Because You Will Pay for it in Spades if You Do Not.

So stay tuned. . .

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Beautiful Boy

Close your eyes
Have no fear
The monster's gone
He's on the run and your daddy's here

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy

Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy

Out on the ocean sailing away
I can hardly wait
To see you come of age
But I guess we'll both just have to be patient
'Cause it's a long way to go
A hard row to hoe
Yes it's a long way to go
But in the meantime

Before you cross the street
Take my hand
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy

Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
(lyrics by John Lennon)

Somedays, the heartache from this wait is nearly unbearable.