Pink Prickly Pear

Here's some math that really sucks.

I haven't talked about adoption in a while.  Mostly because I don't really have any good news to share.

Every month, our agency emails us an update, "The China Center for Adoption Affairs has completed the matching process for families with dossiers registered through..."  This month's cut off date?  February 17, 2006.  Last month's date?  February 15, 2006.  The month before that?  February 9, 2006.

Basically, it means it's taking the China Center for Adoption Affairs a month to process a couple of days worth of dossiers.

These emails are so damned depressing.  We sent our dossier in April 2007.  That's 19 months ago.  It also means that the China Center for Adoption Affairs has another 14 months worth of dossiers to process (at the piddling rate of a couple days worth per month) before it even gets around to ours.   I'm not even going to bother doing the actual math...even if I round up, the numbers are depressing. 

Sure, I guess things could pick up, but I'm not holding my breath.  We've already renewed our orphan visa once.  Do we renew it again?  Do we keep renewing it until we get matched with a little girl years from now? 

When we first heard that things were slowing down, I felt sure that we would just be patient for as long as it took.  We might not get our referral for many months.  The gap between Mini-Pear and a younger sibling would be that much further apart.  It might not be as convenient for us.  But at the end of the day, what we had to offer the little girl who was waiting for us, was still the same.  And so we would wait...for as many months as needed.  But months stretching into years?

I'm no longer so sure.  My gut tells me that China, in a completely different stage of development than when it started its international adoption program, is ready to close it down. 

In which I fail to indoctrinate my child properly *pats self on back, nurses shot foot*

The other morning, our new social worker paid us a visit.  No, CPS isn't after us, this was just another step in the protracted process of renewing our orphan visa.  She took a little tour of our house (hopefully she didn't notice the removed smoke detectors - mini-pear cannot sleep in their presence) and noted the the family-friendliness of the neighborhood before we sat down in the kitchen to review our paperwork.  Hopefully at that point she unconsciously noted the smell of the banana nut muffins we'd made (pretty much expressly for the purpose of our house smelling "homey", although we certainly liked eating them as well).

We chatted for a while.  She asked us lots of questions and hopefully I didn't talk too much.  I think her eyes widened a little when I started rapturously going on about how I'd still be lactating when we traveled to China!  And wouldn't it be great if our little adopted baby could experience all the benefits of extended breastfeeding?!?!

Then she asked if mini-pear could join us for a couple of minutes.  Of course, mini-pear had long bored of the excitement of a new visitor and was now very involved in something on the computer.  She reluctantly joined us in the kitchen, answered the first question and danced merrily off.

"Uh, mini-pear?  We still want to chat with you for a couple of minutes!"  She returned, even more reluctantly than before.  The social worker asked her if she was looking forward to the new baby, and also still looking forward to the adoption?  Did she know anything about China?  What does she do for fun? And then - "So how's homeschooling going with mom?"

"Good."
"Yeah?  What's your favorite subject?"
Mini-pear frowned, "Well, since we don't really do any of that stuff I don't really have a favorite.  I guess..."

Oh.  Crap.  I mean on one hand, this is great.  We've achieved one of our primary objectives - life and learning are seamlessly integrated for her.  On the other hand, this is a social worker sitting on the other side of the table, and from her perspective, I'm sure this looks like a big red flag.

I wrap my arm around mini-pear's waist, "I think if I had to guess your favorite subject, I'd say it was history, huh?  You really enjoyed learning all about Elizabeth I, didn't you?"
"Yeah.  Okay.  History."

Social worker's pen hesitated a moment before she neatly added "History" to the little list of interests she'd compiled.

Yikes.  Or as mini-pear might say, "Shikes!"

I suppose next time I need to prep her a bit.  Maybe explain that those happy hours in the backyard, creating new habitats for woodlice?  Those are Science credits.  So are all those times we spend kicking around the tide pools.  Karate?  That's something called P.E.  Hey, you're even picking up some Foreign Language skills at karate.  Writing to your best friend back in DC?  That could fall under English.  I suppose for a rising Third Grader like yourself, it's still called Language Arts.  Same for those short stories you write.  Those creative stories you tell?  Those don't really count, because there's no evidence of the work.  When you got out that fraction game we have, and used the pieces to play "cake shop"?  That was Math!  Especially when you tried to see which combinations of pieces made a whole cake!  We did a lot of Math on our trip, when we kept trying to figure out "how long 'til we get there".  Oh, and when we made chocolate chip cookies last week?  That was Math too.  When we were reading together the other morning, and we stopped for a minute to look up Jamaica (the location for the story) on a map, that was Geography.  Watching six Simpsons episodes in a row?  Your dad and I suspect you are working on your comedic timing, especially given your recent interest in memorizing complete comedy routines (I love your very dry delivery!).  But hey, maybe we're wrong.  Maybe you're just relaxing and there's certainly nothing wrong with that.  If you were in Film School, we could categorize watching The Simpsons, but you're only in Third Grade, so it's just vegging out.  It might even be very, very bad for you.  The American Girl book club?  History (U.S History).  Watching Cate Blanchett as Elizabeth I?  That's History too!  It probably doesn't count though, because British History isn't required for Third Graders in California.  Reading everything Beverly Cleary has ever written?  That's Reading with a capital "R".

I could prep her, but I think it might suck the joy out of it a bit.  All she knows is that she spends her days exploring what interests her.  No one's ever told her that it's something she has to do.  Nothing is required.  Nothing's out of bounds either.  It's all fun, because it all has meaning.  What else would she do?

We're lucky they don't need prints of my gnarly flip flop wearin' toes!

One of the first things people in the know ask when they learn I'm pregnant is, "So are you still pursuing your adoption?"

The answer, of course, is yes.  I just don't talk about our adoption all that much because it all taking so long and basically, until we receive our referral (estimated to be months and months and months adding up to over a year from now at least) there really isn't any news to share. 

At the moment, we've been waiting so long (since April of 2007) that our orphan visa is set to expire, so we have a few hoops to jump through in order to renew it.  As part of this process, we recently needed to re-submit our fingerprints to both the Department of Justice and the FBI.  Mr. Pear went first as he needed to get back to the office.  From the waiting area, I could hear the technician praising him, "All "A"s!  That's what we like to see!" 

I soon found our what they were on about.  Fingerprinting no longer involves an ink pad and a little card upon which to affix your grubby prints.  These days, they use fancy little touch screens and submit your prints digitally.  There is also a rating system so you know immediately whether or not your prints are acceptable.  Turns out that mine almost aren't.  I got "D" after "D" after "D".  We tried over and over again with each digit to see if we could do any better.  I got a "C" once, on one of my pinkie fingers.

The technician shook her head, "Well, at least the agencies can see we tried several times and it's not just an error.  Some people just don't have good prints..." and then she paused, "...but we don't usually see this outside of construction workers."

Little as my hands may be, I got manly paws!  I suppose I'm not surprised.  Construction worker I'm not, but my poor fingers have seen their share of plaster, soil, clay, turpentine and various other fingerprint degrading substances* in my love of manual labor in all forms.  All I can say is, let's speed up the adoption process please, because if I need to do this in another 18 months, I'll have done that many more sink loads of dishes.

_{* I know I could wear gloves, but they are usually a very bad fit and I inevitably get frustrated and hurl them off in a most un-zen-like rage.  Until we rescind child labor laws, I doubt I'll find them in the right size.}

Patience.

Did I really just get email from my agency confirming wait times as long as 24 - 36 months? 

It was a mediocre day.

I got my dates wrong.  Our orphan visa should take nine weeks to process.  Nine weeks is next Tuesday, not this past Tuesday.  Bah!

Other than that, things are moving along.  Mr. Pear's enormous bicycle case arrived yesterday.  I woke up in the middle of the night and woke him up, "Your bike case is never going to fit in our car!"  This is a frequent problem with our miniscule little car-for-the-people.  He insists he can make it work.  I think he's going to have to get another ride to the airport.

I shipped a box of stuff to California.  We kind of have to move now, don't we?

Shopping for a shower curtain and macaroni and cheese and packing tape, I spied the first Cadbury's cream eggs of the season.  It's kind of sad that a gooey chocolate egg was the high point of my day.

The low point?  Lifting Mr. Pear's ginger beer onto the conveyor belt at Whole Foods, having the carboard bottom of the four-pack give way, and having four glass bottles of ginger beer crash down onto the floor, shattering into a million little pieces and soaking me in sticky ginger beer.

I tried a new wine.  It's not good. 

It's go time.

Our adoption counselor called me this afternoon.  She was just checking in.  Didn't I say I'd mail the remainder of our dossier to her mid-February?  I had to tell her that I'm still waiting on our orphan visa.  If I've calculated processing times correctly and there is nothing unforseen holding up our file, we should get that from USCIS at the beginning of next week.  Everything else is already in my FedEx envelope ready to go.  If that envelope doesn't go by the beginning of March documents are going to start expiring on us.  I don't relish the thought of re-aquiring any of them.  I'll have to do some as it is for our homestudy update.  This is what we get for moving mid-adoption, not that there's anything we can do about it.  So next week.  I'm saying Tuesday the 20th, maybe Wednesday since Monday is a holiday.

I hope. 

I really, really, really hope, because come March 1st, we're paying rent on two residences.  We have to stay at this address until USCIS is finished with our file.  Mr. Pear is actually shipping out some household goods and his bike so he can settle in there as early as the end of next week.  Parenting unassisted 24/7 is something I can do, but we all function much better as a family unit.

*

I get to be a tattletale!

It snowed on Tuesday and Wednesday, right?  And DC law says you are responsible for clearing the sidewalk along your residence within 24 hours.  Dick Cheney didn't have his hired goons out there until this afternoon.  Friday!

What's the hold up?

*

I did take a picture of my lunch but it was so disappointing.  Five Guys Burgers and Fries - I think they have opened too many new locations too quickly.  The cheese in my grilled cheese was not melted.  The outside sort of overcooked.  Our fries were dark brown and heavily salted.  I'm doubly mad because I try not to eat a lot of fried foods.  When I do, I want it to be worth my while.

A picture is worth a thousand words

I spent yesterday morning preparing lifestyle pictures for our adoption dossier.  I've procrastinated this task for some time now, a little intimidated by the instructions as emailed by our agency.  For some months, I've fretted over which photos to include.  To my mind, our instructions were simultaneously vague and specific.  At least one adoptive parent needed to be in each shot, no alcohol, large dogs, sunglasses, bathing suits, etc. ...if possible, include a couple of photos that show you doing something active, such as hiking, gardening, sports, etc.  This is your opportunity to impress...so use the photos to your advantage. Submit happy, flattering photos...

I like messing around with my camera, but I'm not intent on capturing every last moment of our lives.  I'm more interested in, well, actually living.  Mr. Pear will sporadically snap a few shots, but I'm rarely in them.  One would think, from looking at our collection, that mini-pear didn't even have a mother.  So some of these were staged in anticipation of including them in our dossier.  To the right is one of my favorites.  It's not even a particularly good picture of us, but we were at the Smithsonian Folk Festival this summer and I saw that gigantic dump truck and knew we had to have a picture with it for our dossier.  Something about it just called out that it was something the Chinese would appreciate - economic progress, man-dwarfing machinery and our appreciative little faces.

At any rate, I can cross one more item off our list and, as per our agency's stern instructions, I used no glue!  Glue tends to make the pages stick together. A glue stick is preferred and so a glue stick I purchased, although, I'm still not sure what makes the stick preferable to the squeeze bottle we already own.  I was suspicious of the glue stick and bought some self adhesive clear plastic corner pieces, just be be completely redundant thorough in my efforts.