Growing Family

February Photo Challenge

You may have noticed that the return to school means I have more time to think, ahem, blog. I've decided to go for the February photo challenge that's buzzing around. A photo a day, inspired by the following list is what you're meant to shoot for. 

I don't know that I'll get to post them every day, but it looks like fun.



1. Your View Today - The fresh elevator doors at a local shopping center 

 

 

2. Words - some new hair product for Small Sun from another mom with a biracial boy. I promise, the specimen container was not recycled, she just happened to have it on hand. I liked the product pretty well.

 

Blogging

I've been writing here for about four years now. No, don't jump to any conclusions, I am not shutting the blog down, although I thought about joining American Family in her swift exit from the blogosphere (sniff, sniff, I miss you AmFam!). No, this isn't about that.

I go through a bit of ebb and flow with my relationship with the blogosphere. Sometimes I am faithfully reading all 82 blogs in my feedreader, leaving comments and being right in the thick of all the chatter. Other times I kind of lose interest or get busy with real life. I used to feel really invested in what was going on in adoption around the globe, but I'm a bit distanced from that now. 

Right now there are a couple blogs that I'm stalking. I've even started to figure out the schedule of when one publishes, I'm so eager for that next fix. They are the splash of humour and colour that get me laughing, dreaming, and finding that little bit of zing to put spice in my day. I am not ashamed to say that I love these blogs and blow air kisses to them through my monitor. 

First there's Enjoying the Small Things by the fabulous Kelle Hampton. I first read Kelle's blog when she published her birth story six months ago. After eagerly anticipating the birth of her second child, she was rocked when her daughter was born with Downs Syndrome. I love a lot of things about her blog. For one thing she is a photographer and each entry is bursting with stunning photographs of her gorgeous daughters and the magic they make every day. She is serious about draining the last drops of joy from her cup, every day. When parenting becomes mundane and exhausting, her blog helps me shake a leg and refocus on the beauty and wonder happening right under my nose.

Then there is Party of 5 aka Five Free Spirits*. This is a husband and wife blogging duo sharing their life which entails twin boys from Haiti that are all boy times one thousand and a dear little daughter (who is their biological child) and is a strong little sprite with a passion for necklaces. Their blog takes on the struggles of a two career household and the joys and challenges that entails, as well as fabulous food Fridays filled with mouth watering recipes.

Lastly, I'm loving Rage Against the Minivan where Kristen Howerton keeps me in stitches with her overwhelmed parenting of four children, preschool age and younger (2 birth, 2 bio). As an introvert she talks about the struggle of being ON. ALL. DAY! for four busy little people and I can so relate. She also talks frankly about race, adoption, and attachment issues, and I love her for it. This girl is hilarious and I don't know how she does it all!

These are "real" bloggers. Their blogs look flash, they speak at conferences and get interviewed on television shows...you know, real bloggers. 

So what does that have to do with me? Well not a lot, actually, since this blog is more like a journal tucked under my pillow. I scribble away here and then it goes out of sight. I am not on anyone's "radar", my site is bare-bones, it's just a notepad. BlogHer is not offering to fly me on a private jet to their next shindig.

But there are ways that my blog could be more luscious. Mainly, photographs. One thing I love about the above blogs is that they have tons of pictures. You feel like you know the families, warts and all (and when I say warts I mean gorgeous shades of lipstick, scrumptious plates of food, and stylish home interiors). You feel like you know and love their kids. You feel like you're friends. I love that.

I have tons of gorgeous pictures of our life that I would love to share, but don't because of dirty old trolls. I don't use our names or identifying images for the same reason. You know, safety from weirdos, etc. It is really a shame because my kids are gorgeous and I'd love to have that kind of feel on my blog...and I love blogs that operate that way, but even though I want to take that step, I still have not. I've had some weirdos come through here and your stomach just rolls when you know they've been poking around your pics. I also know of other bloggers who have had their pics lifted off of their blogs and used in some nasty on-line environments.

So what do you think? All of the bloggers I mentioned just look at life as the glass half-full. They embrace the community of the blogosphere and snub the creeps. I'm thinking about doing the same. What do you think? 

Go check out those sites, they're really fabulous and will make your day!

*Precisely because of creeps and haters, Party of 5 is now password protected, but if you are a genuine reader, I think they still add people to their list.

The Plodding, I mean Blogging

I've been writing here for almost three years now. I've written a lot about adoption, a lot about parenting, a lot about our move to Australia, just a lot about my life from my perspective, really.

When I started writing, the adoption blog world was a pretty small place. I knew my way around and I felt like I had a finger on the pulse of what was going on. At this point there are so many people blogging about adoption, that there is no way I can keep track anymore. I would love to be able to read tons of blogs and comment on them, and be part of the big discussion, but I can't. I have two little kids that keep me very, very busy.

In addition to the blog world exploding, the issues that are salient to me have changed, as my children grow. I also find that being outside of the U.S., I feel less compelled to really be a part of the American adoption system. Fighting for reform, writing representatives, raising awareness...it's all so far away.

I find that since moving here, adoption is less a part of my life for several reasons: adoption is so rare here that people don't have misconceptions and opinions about adoption. They ask me sincere questions and have no point of reference. In Nashville everyone had their ideas about adoption from Lifetime movies, and their sister's cousin's adoption experience that they projected onto our family. I was always against the current, trying to educate in a strong stream of misinformation.

Also, since we have had to lay adoption down completely at this point (fully intending to adopt again as soon as we are in a position to do so), I am less inclined to stay on top of what is happening in the adoption world, knowing that it will all have changed again by the time it is relevant to us.

I still value this as a place to come and release my thoughts, but I confess I start to lose my voice when I think no one is listening. This isn't a journal, after all. It is public, it is a monologue that requests a response.

My baby will be here in two and a half weeks, or less. Then I will have even less time to read and comment, and to write. My life will be filled with sleepless nights, adornment in the form of spit up, and nursing. Teething, first foods, crawling...I've written about it all before. Twice.

I'm not sure which direction this blog will take in the next season. I won't close it, as I appreciate my ability to come here and write. At the same time, I don't really know what I'll have to say, or how often I'll come to say it. I don't know who is reading here these days, or what they are coming for. I'll take it one step at a time and see what grows.

Thanksgiving Day Poem

Dancers
November 27, 2008

You can't always tell who the dancers are
Bodies release the sleek tautness of training
Bodies surrender to child-bearing, forever changed.

But the evidence is there in the movement
In the fingers as they hang
In the curve of the neck - strong.

If you could look in the windows of a former dancer,
Some days you would see
Her children over breakfast gazing

At long arms like swan necks
Reflected in the photo frames.
At the torso releasing to the call of music.

The old dancer stiff and heavy, whose body still holds grace-
Like a spring that needs release.

Even if the kitchen is the stage and
The children the audience.

Give to Ceasar What is Ceasar's

I am processing a lot of things these days. Normally I would write here to help me process, but while I am very honest here about adoption and parenting, these current topics are a bit too personal to explore in public. I have been using this blog for so long as my one-stop-shop for exploration, confession, and mucking my thoughts about, that not having it be an appropriate place to process leaves me feeling a bit displaced. I might have to dust off the paper journal and pick up a favorite pen.

So, in general summary, we are pretty settled on having this baby by c-section. I had a wonderful, natural birth experience with The Sprout that was everything I wanted it to be: empowering, revelatory, deepening, spiritual, and...well, words fail, really. Also in my birth experience with her, some complications developed that resulted in a lot of trauma and a long and painful recovery that was both physically and emotionally difficult. I didn't write about it much, as it was so personal, but it was a very difficult time.

To make a long story go longer, I ended up with an OB here, rather than a midwife, even though a midwife would be more my style. The OB has emphasized his strong opinion that the safest way for me to have this baby is via c-section. My General Practitioner is in full agreement. Wanting to have the opinions from "both sides", I consulted a home-birth midwife with 30 years experience. Her council was that I could try for another natural birth and with months of preparation and the prospect of some intervention, she thought we could minimize the complications that arose last time.

So, after mulling it over for several weeks, and talking to God about it, I think having a c-section is the best choice for me, and our family, in these circumstances. I am not comfortable with the idea of surgery, never having spent any real time sick or in hospital. But, I'm processing it. Believe me, I've only given you the surface skimmings, though it may not seem like it.

The other thing I'm processing but not discussing (hehe), is the role of our faith in this move, and what we expect to happen here. I realized this week that it's like we were following the pillar of fire/cloud in the dessert, and then it disappeared. Sometimes there's nothing like asking "why are we here?" to start to remember.

In other pregnancy news, I'm starting to remember things about pregnancy that I'd forgotten. Last week I was just a little fat. This week, I am surely pregnant. I "popped out", as they say. It's little things that I forgot, like the way sometimes you bend over and your muscles catch there and when you stand up, they don't release! Then you're kind of stuck half bent over, trying to get the muscles to un-glitch. So graceful.

Oh, and the shifting of the center of gravity. I've nearly toppled over a couple times this week because I leaned, and didn't expect the extra pull of this apple-sized baby to be so strong. There have been a couple times where I really felt movement, though technically, I shouldn't yet. It wasn't kicking or anything, just this feeling of my uterus, occupied. And the eating! Today was a switch from eating to keep from throwing up, to eating like a ravenous little scavenger. Things I wouldn't have dared two days ago, I was scarfing down, fearfully, but as one compelled. The fresh grape tomatoes and young cucumbers from my garden were particularly satisfying, as was the fresh squeezed orange juice the Captain made. (Did I fail to mention the mac'n'cheese, brownies and ice cream, and heavily salted nuts? Oops.)

Lastly, I feel like I've surrendered my voice for adoption here lately. I am not in the process of adopting, nor do I live in the States where my opinions on adoption reform are relevant. Sometimes I forget that as an adoptive mother, I have a permanent stake in the world of adoption, even if I am not currently engaged in it. I've read two pieces lately that really moved my heart and reminded me of what I am passionate about in adoption. The conversation about adoptive parent's "claiming" a baby in a pre-birth match, over at Dawn's, and Heather's discussions of creating inventive ways to make sure adoptive parents are meeting their own ethical standards when adopting in states that have Termination of Parental Rights and Revocation Period time-frames that they don't feel are adequate and ethical.

Reading these two discussions has been intensely engaging and I am reminded of how much I care, and how interested I am in being involved in adoption in America, and the world. I think I had to shelf that for awhile, after finding out we can't adopt right now. But I think I might rejoin the conversation soon.

So there you have it: there are the visible tips of the icebergs. Now I'll have to go plumb the rest of the depths on my own.

Mucking About

This may not come as a surprise to you, or more likely, you'll never even know I posted this, because the truth of the matter is, readers are dropping like flies from my blog. There are still a few faithful, and I love each of you!

I've been thinking about what's going on and I think there are a couple factors. First, well, I haven't been writing much. If you want people to read and comment, it kind of helps to give them something to read, eh? I do recognize that basic fact. However, this blog being the cathartic medium I've always treasured it to be, means that I don't write stuff just to have a post up. I write something when I have something to process, or something to say.

It's not that I haven't been processing lately...I actually have a lot on my mind. For some strange reason, that goes beyond all of the history of my personality, I am processing inside. My inner processes aren't often surfacing in conscious words and lines of thought, they are more like the currents, under the surface of the water. I always process out loud. Lately, I'm not emailing my girlfriends, I'm not even really trying to talk to The Captain. I've been journaling a bit, but what is happening in me seems so private. How odd that as I write this, I don't even know what I am talking about! Okay, that's not entirely true. There are two issues which are very personal, or very painful, that aren't public material, but in general there's just a lot of undeveloped processing happening inside of me.

So, that's the bit about my thoughts being stuck inside and not coming out. The other bit is that my blog is lacking definition right now. It is not adoption-focused enough to draw the adoption crowd, and the same is true for parenting, and ex-pat-living, not to mention our ex-pat experience isn't really exciting enough to draw those readers. Since I write a little bit about a variety of things, I'm not pulling any one crowd, and I'm not gaining new readers.

Then there's also the very real possibility that I've turned people off somewhere.

So, what do I do? I don't want to shut my blog down, but this internal processing is really cramping my style. I don't want to go on a post-a-thon, trying to draw readers. And I don't want to go out fishing for readers. Kind of sounds like I'm really not that passionate about keeping this thing going, doesn't it?

The thing is, life is seasonal, and for me, blogging is too. I think I am in a quiet season where I am going deep, in order to get ready for what comes next.  It's like a long inhale, before I start sprinting. I feel like I need some time to close my eyes, and listen to the stillness. So, maybe a blog sabbatical? I'm just afraid that if I go away entirely for a period of time, no one will be here when I come back...and that would be too bad because I really like sharing this here, with you.

Just a couple thoughts...the ones that made it to the surface, at least.

Read This

Mayhem Mama (http://mayhemandmagic.typepad.com/mayhem_and_magic/) has this article up on her blog and I think everyone should go read it.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/07/01/AR2006070100462.html

Being Black in America, and the world does affect how you live. Read it.

ps-what is wrong with my hyperlink! Arg.

Does an Explanation Void an Apology?

I have a bad habit. When I've hurt someone, and I go to apologize, I usually end up trying to explain myself because I think that if the person really understood where I was coming from, they wouldn't have been hurt in the first place. I think it comes partly from my compulsion to have the full truth out there. I don't want to leave someone with misconceptions about what I really meant or intended. I'm about to do that here.

Sometimes when I write something, I know that my tone is sarcastic, disrespectful, condescending, or judgmental. Lately I've been struggling with how to acknowledge that, knowing that right now, writing that way is serving a purpose in my life so I am not planning on editing myself in that regard. I don't want to hurt people, and I certainly don't want to convey that I think I know all about the topics I'm addressing. I don't.

Before I started blogging, I was talking to a good friend of mine. I told him I was thinking about trying my hand at blogging because I wanted a space to hash out what I was experiencing as an adoptive parent with a transracially adopted child. As wonderful and supportive as my friends were, when I needed to talk about the things I was seeing and experiencing, they just didn't get it. I don't blame or fault them, they just didn't. Instead of holding inside the things that made me angry or curious or sad, I needed a place to lay them out and process. So I came here.

I think so many people have already been through much of this process in the course of growing up. They have seen racism and white privilege in action, and have a schema for processing new information. Because I grew up as a home schooled kid living in the country, I didn't have those opportunities. I didn't see those things in action until I became mother to my son and it was very personal.

Discovering white privilege, the effects of Colonialism, current racism and stereotyping, discovering that adoption isn't conducted in an ethical manner much of the time, hearing for the first time that many first mothers suffer depression and grief and trauma for years after placement, coming to terms with my role in adoption, learning that many adoptees view adoption as a negative and damaging experience, navigating our semi-open adoption, all while bonding with my new son and parenting my new daughter, has been A LOT to deal with. Honestly, some days I am just reeling from it all.

What I spent my whole life believing about adoption, and aspiring to in adopting, has been totally rocked. I have learned and processed more information that affects me emotionally, in the last three years, than I would have ever imagined possible.

What I write here is an emotional release for me. After putting things into words I can let them go and move on to what I need to process next. Sometimes what I release is anger. Sometimes it's outrage. Sometimes it's sadness. Sometimes it's fear.

When I think about changing my tone to write this for YOU, to offend YOU less, and to garnish more readers through my honey-soaked, carefully weighed and measured arguments, I can't do it. Not right now. Right now I still need this place to come and rant once in awhile.

When I went to that school and they were playing music that was created to hurt members of my son's race, that made me angry. That they were playing it, yes, but that that kind of devisive evil is in our world. I need a place to scream that that is not okay.

I think I can also come across as aggressive sometimes because I am insecure here. As a blogger I am writing monologues. I can write something so personal to me and have lots of people read it but no one comment. It's like crying in public when no one asks you what's wrong. Sometimes I can handle that, and sometimes I come to the keyboard defensive because I have to get my thoughts out but I'm afraid someone will judge me for it or worse, that no one will say anything at all.

I'm sorry if I hurt you here. I'm sorry if I'm rude. I invite you to tell me so. I know that I am not always balanced and as my brother-in-law says in his Italian way, "I know I run my mouth." So, if me running my mouth bugs you, please tell me so that we can work it out.

Back to our previously scheduled programming!

I Don't Know Where I'm Going But I Do Know Why I'm Here

The first year of parenting is full of new experiences and I doubt that anyone can come through it without some pretty life-changing shifts in perspective. I knew that would be the case before I became a parent, I just didn't realize which perspectives would change the most.

I remember telling a friend of mine, a single guy friend who was outside my "mommy circle", "you know, I've been thinking about starting a blog to have a place to write about what I'm experiencing parenting Small Sun, that my other mommy friends don't get." Our little family hadn't been together long before I began to notice...things. I ventured to ask my friends about experiences or conversations that struck me as odd or inappropriate and my friends told me "oh, I wouldn't take it that way" or "they didn't mean that". At that point I didn't have any other friends who had adopted, no peer group for our kind of family. My mommy friends were my only sounding board and they told me that when I thought someone was treating us oddly, I was wrong.

I can't explain how relieved I felt when I read The Racism Radar by Vera L. I'd love it if you could read the whole thing but here are some core pieces that I want to reference:

I wish the racism radar could be as technically sure and accurate as the real thing. But it is a very subjective, subtle instrument. Something in the context of an incident, something in a person’s voice or attitude when they make a remark, the way that a co-worker off-handedly tosses a report onto a desk, or passes over a comment made by a person of color in a meeting – something — starts an internal “ping, ping, ping” and we are on guard, alert and watching. “What is going on here? Did he really just do that? Am I seeing right?” And because the kind of ordinary, every day racism that people of color face is usually not as clear cut as the comments Don Imus hurled at the Rutgers Women’s basketball team (although, incredibly, because he was “joking” there were those who argued he was not being racist at all), we are often left to figure out whether we’re getting an accurate reading. We look at the context of the incident, what we know about the people involved, whether there have been similar incidents in the past, look to the reactions of others in the room. Often, the radar will result in the only two African Americans in the room exchanging knowing glances while the white folks move obliviously along...

Yes, it’s true, there are some black people whose radars are set to the sensitive side – they see racist conspiracy everywhere. And there are some black people who stay at the opposite side of the dial, refusing to see racism, and brushing away all but the most undeniable incidents. And then there are the rest of us who make our conclusions incident by incident, based on a combination of what’s in front of us and past experience...

But it is also my experience that for many white folks who don’t deal with everyday racism the radar is either dialed way down or just flat doesn’t work at all. Most white people who aren’t forced to confront racists acts and attitudes are more comfortable with the idea that racism no longer exists, and believe that those of us who see it are boxing shadows of the past. And since white culture is the majority culture here in the US, the prevailing attitude leans towards dismissing as innocent all but the most egregious acts of racism. To do otherwise is being “too sensitive” or “avoiding responsibility”.

What I took away most from this is that when I feel alarmed or concerned about the way someone is interacting with me or my child, I shouldn't just disregard it and assume the best. I should examine it carefully and consider what is bothering me and why. I started this blog to have a place to do that, because the people I tried to process it with, live, had their radar "dialed way down" and thought I was being too sensitive.

In response to my "I Don't See Color" post, Heather said:

1- "choosing to minimize or disregard a person's color is part of white privilege.": A person saying they don't "notice" color does not mean they are minimizing or disregarding their race. It may simply mean it is not foremost in their impression or their opinion of that person.

2- "Ambivalence about race is the luxury of a person who does not experience discrimination based on their race": Ambivalence about race is not a bad thing. These people mean it in a way such as they have no preference for one over the other. They are not all discounting the race of a person as in the culture and heritage of their ethnicity that makes up who they are. They are simply saying they don't think of them as being different as a person. There is nothing more to it than that. They are saying that they see a person, a human being, who may have a different color of skin, but is living in the same country, in the same world, as anyone else; white, black, tan or whatever. Skin color is not the total of who they are. Not the total. Not "noticing" skin tone does not equal parents not noticing who they are as a person, ethnicity included.

As much as you have stereotyped people who are not in your position and may misspeak things (according to you), I think you are just as guilty of jumping to conclusions and only looking at the way you see things as anyone on any side of this difference.

What I am doing here is relating my personal experiences and things that give me pause in my interactions with others. I do understand that whenever I make an assumption about another person's motivation, without having it directly from the horse's mouth, I am at risk of stereotyping. In addition I know I stereotype different groups from time to time. That said, I came to the internet to learn from the perspectives of people I do not have close relationships in real life: first parents, adoptees, and Persons of Color. I don't spend as much time focusing on the experience of adoptive parents because I am on that side of things, I've worked in adoption, I know a lot of adoptive parents. I feel like that experience is familiar enough to me to generalize about, and of course I am going to mis-represent someone. That's the nature of generalizations.

You are telling me here, what people really mean when they say things, yet you don't really know either. You and I can only speculate on a person's true motivation and what they "really mean". I'm writing here about MY reaction to certain statements and MY PERSPECTIVE on the outcome of those views, and why I find those discussions to be difficult. This goes beautifully with what Lori said about my "Arg" moment:

I feel like I need to apologize in advance for anything I might communicate out of ignorance. I sometimes go back over conversations we've had and wonder if you've taken offense or thought that things I've said were stupid, insensitive, or inappropriate. I have no idea what it's like to be the mom of a child whose skin color is different from mine. I do know what it's like to go to dinner or to the movies with a date whose color is different from mine. I've also experienced going places and doing things with children whose skin color differs from mine (and that of my children), but I no longer expect people to make inappropriate comments. I'm actually surprised when they do. Interestingly enough, they usually don't. I think it's mostly because I'm not looking for it. I think a lot of our experience is based on what kind of glasses we wear--what we're accustomed to noticing--what we're looking for--what we believe about the world around us--and what we've been taught to believe.

I used to agree with you. Before we adopted Small Sun I probably would have said the same thing. But then I started getting those "ping ping pings" on my radar. Remember people, how I grew up. I was a home school kid living in the country and going to small churches. I knew about the Civil Rights movement and that the KKK still did bad stuff...but I didn't really know ANYTHING about race relations in American today. I tried to educate myself before we adopted and I thought I was pretty prepared. I knew there were racist people out there and that it would be my job to protect and raise my children to be successful in spite of racism, but I thought that was "out there", "in the future". The effects of stereotype and white privilege and prejudice have found me and my family in places I never expected.

A leader in our church meets my son for the first time and immediately asks me if his mom was young and using drugs. A close friend uses a discriminatory ethnic stereotype while my son is feet away. Friends confide in me why they couldn't have a child of color in their family because of the racism that exists there.

I didn't expect that. I didn't expect these things to creep so close. I thought I had to protect my son from unfair hiring practices or biased school systems. I didn't know that I would be patiently explaining about how we value our son's mother and want a relationship with her, or that my son isn't going to choose his other family and go live with them when he finds out about them (obviously he's not going to "find out" if he always knows), or that not all African Americans are naturally good at sports and so my son might not be an athlete, or that not all black people know how to dance, my son just loves to groove.

I knew when we started building our family that I needed to prepare for a lifetime of visibility and curiosity. I just didn't know that after 2+ years I would still get nervous when people start with "so...your son's adopted?" and I don't know where they're going with it. Some people have perfectly innocent questions and are sincerely interested in adoption. Others are just curious and feel they have the right to ask very personal questions about our family or make statements about race or adoption that are simply inappropriate. Still others are just looking for a launching pad to air their opinions.

I appreciate those of you who I know in real life, who have come here to get a glimpse of my parenting experience, and I don't want to scare you out of my life. At the same time, I honestly don't see a little second guessing or careful thinking as a bad thing. I just read a piece about the difficulty of Aboriginal-European Australian relations and the advice to the immigrant was "speak carefully, ask questions thoughtfully, and above all else, listen." Racism IS all around us, whether I'm on hyper alert or in oblivious mode. I am paying attention to the "pings" on my radar because whether I regard them and formulate a response, or choose to stay silent, I am dialing into the world that my son will experience.  He can do it with our help, or we can set him to do it alone. One day he'll have to take the world and its injustice on by himself, but not today.

 

 

I haven't been writing much...

...and there's probably a couple reasons why.

I spent the last couple weeks without my normal kid help and I ended up feeling pretty much like my brain was mush. Creativity-low, energy-low, motivation-low. It is amazing how much a little bit of help in the week makes everything go more smoothly. I am already thinking of ways to find that help in Sydney where I'll have no social network.

I come here mostly to write about adoption and transracial parenting, two things that the majority of my peer group can't relate to. Several things have happened since I started writing, though. First, my opinions and ideas on adoption have shifted dramatically. Sometimes I'm afraid of writing something down only to change my mind next week. Also, many of my friends and family now know about my blog and I find myself sometimes censoring things I might say, in efforts to not offend people. Here I started this blog to write uncensored, the things I don't often find an ear for IRL, and now I'm holding myself back.

I'm not really sure what to do about that. I know that my friends who comment can handle my processing and the rough edges I sometimes leave exposed here. It is all of the people who COULD BE reading, but I don't know if they are that make me wonder. The Internet is such a weird place. On one hand it is so anonymous but it can also be so intimate.

So that's pretty much it. I've been busy. I'm going through a heart shift about adoption. I don't know who is reading what I'm writing.

On to other things...we spent the whole weekend working hard, painting our kitchen a color called "fresh persimmon". Fresh it is. You can only imagine how fresh. I'll post pictures when we're all done.

I've really got it in my heart to adopt again, soon. I don't think we can even begin to think about starting the process until we get to Sydney. And about Sydney, it feels like it's never going to happen. This waiting seems ENDLESS! We've been waiting for 7 months now. If this was a pregnancy I'd be almost there and if it were an adoption, we'd be at least a third of the way through. Come on, people.

So anyway, that's this and that in this neck of the woods. If anyone wants to delurk, now would be a good time.