It’s been weird around here. We are trying to fast track a reno project and addition that had been in the works long before YuChennie was on our radar. And so my head is full of tile samples vanity designs and adoption to do items and I’m forgetting things like rinsing the conditioner out of my hair and turning the stove burners off. Which is not precious, unless the house burns down, in which case maybe the project would start quicker? Something to think about. We have our last appointment with the social worker in charge of our home study tomorrow. She’s coming here. To our home. Which means that each of the kids had a job to do tonight to help us get ready and most of them involved hiding things. Weapons and stuff. The past weekend kicked off the Michigan Youth Hunt, which only meant that my boys were doing things legally that they’d been doing illegally for months. Sunday night found them up in the tree stand with Dan, my organic baby carrots scattered on the ground as bait. The girls and I got the heck out of Dodge and went to pick outrageously priced apples at Robinettes since I like to get totally cheated on apples there at least once a fall. It’s like a tradition or something. In a non-shocking twist, Robinettes actually charges more for u-pick apples. Let me say that again: Robinettes actually charges more for u-pick apples. This could, perhaps, explain why I failed econ in high school, as this makes no sense to me.
Today, Grant was sick until 8:35, when the bell rang. Then he spent the day working on his rip-stick skills and forcing me to climb up into his tree stand with him. I sat on the precarious ledge at the top of a billion foot high ladder, clutching Lucy to me and wizzing my knickers onto the organic carrots scattered underneath. I told him it would help attract the deer, which may or may not be true. But either way, the view was spectacular, and since I woke the boys up singing a song about underwear in a morning falsetto, I figured I owed it to him. That’s the kind of thing kids hate you forever for, after all.
In adoption news, I popped onto our adoption agency’s website this weekend for a quick peek and found this:
Is that not the sweetest thing? Just a week ago, our girl’s photo had “No longer accepting new applications” across her chest and now this. It brought on both the snot cry and the stupid grin. At the same time. Which scared the children enough to come see for themselves and then we all danced like loons around the kitchen. I have a family! Child, you have no idea.
This is me being real. So thankful that somewhere in southern China there is a baby who is being loved from afar and whose family is counting down the days til she can come home to this crazy place and let us love her. Aching for all the smalls whose pictures don’t say anything across them yet. Aching for that.