This blog has been my refuge for so long.  A place I can unload without immediate criticism and while Dan holds the couch down, watching Ridiculousness.  But here in the condo(n’t), it’s downstairs.  Where it’s 45 degrees despite a heating bill that made me choke and Peter is sleeping on the sofa he’s called bed since we moved here in November.  I hate writing here.  I hate most things here.
But there is still you and there is still me and I miss you, so I’m sorry I’ve been so remiss.  Life is moving a bit faster than I’d like and I’m nearly always playing catch-up.  And not well.  The house rolls on.  Dan’s ring tone has developed in me the Pavlovian response of complete paralysis and anxiety.  I know when I pick up that sweet voice is going to say something like, “Hey, I’m here at the house with the tiles guys and we’re wondering how high you want the back splash in the girls bathroom?  The need to know right now.” or “Hi there, Jim wants to know ASAP how high and deep and long and wide you want the cabinet in the back hall.  Also, what kind of wood, which finish and doors or no doors?” And I begin to shake and wonder, what fresh hell is this?  Where I must make snap decisions in front of an audience of my husband’s professional peers.  They must surely think I’m a complete idiot.  Wait till they see the office wallpaper.
Which is one reason, the forever winter not withstanding, why I’m loading the Smalls into the car and getting the heck out of Condo on Wednesday.  I can just as easily make an ass of myself over the phone from Hilton Head as I can from right here in Grand Rapids.  I’ve got everyone packed with about three and a half outfits and a bottle of sunscreen.  The adoption binder is on top.  We are blowing this joint.  I thought Dan would be lonely without us for 11 days, but today I caught him google searching Searchmont and asking if I had already packed the ski stuff.  He’s clearly devastated.
As for the adoption, I’d love to give you a clear road map of where we’re headed, but if one exists, I haven’t been made privy to it.  Now that we’ve been given our i800 clearance to bring baby into US (and I call her baby because we’ve been having second thoughts about her name lately-what is wrong with us?!?), I can begin tomorrow to email the National Visa Center (NVC-everything in adoption world has an acronym) which will lead to our SIM number being replaced with a GUZ number (I told you) which will lead to our Art 5 being dropped off, then picked up.  Which will lead to China issuing our travel approval (TA).  This all happens over the span of the next month and a half to two months, which will lead us to mid to late May.  Two weeks after we get our TA, we fly to our girl.  June 13th is looking like the most realistic travel date, but Father has sped things right along since the very start and I wait in anticipation to see what he’ll do here.  So while I hope moving and traveling don’t happen on the heals of each other, I will do whatever it takes to get that girl home as soon as we can. And I wrestle with the fact that moving home on May two and then shortly after preparing us to travel, we eight, to China to snatch her up seems impossibly impossible.  Like someone barfed in my brain.  And then made me clean it up. But Father, who has orchestrated this whole crazy thing knows my capabilities and will work it all out in his perfect timing.  That may be the only thing I am sure of these days.  That and the fact that our neighbors hate us.  Won’t even make eye contact with us and there was a Uhaul in their driveway this morning, I swear.  We may have driven them to this.  We have probably driven them to this.
This is me being real.  Willing to testify that we were not made aware of any policy stating that inhabitants of Condo must have two or less children accompanying them.  Wondering how we’ll possibly choose…

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