Learning to Tie Shoes

Fair's Fair

I'm in the kitchen, just around the corner from the living room.  A minute ago, I heard Danny yell "ow!". Ten seconds later the dog yelped.

"What did you do to the dog?" I asked, stepping around the corner to see them both looking a little guilty.

"Well, he hurt me," Danny answered, with his patented 'I'm in trouble now' frown.

"What did you do to make him yelp?" I demanded, fully ready to be angry.

silence

"I bit him back."

silence from me as I clenched my jaw tight and tried desperately not to laugh

"Fair's fair."

What else could I say?

Keeping a Reluctant Promise

Part of the agreement  of that woman signing the parental relinquishment papers was that we would send pictures and or updates every so often, once or twice a year. Now, while I understand, and even appreciate, that she wants to know how the children she bore are doing as they grow up, I'm not keen on this idea.

Our adoption records are sealed, because the attorney and the courts believed she would pose a problem if she was allowed to know who we were. Apparently she is pretty good at harrassing, and has caused problems for others that have had temporary custody of these kids in the past. Personally, this has never really worried me - she's 4'9", I'm almost 6 feet tall. Can you just see where that would go in a scrap? And I'm not above asserting myself, loudly if necessary, when the situation warrants.

My biggest problem with keeping up with this promise we made is having to keep track of her.  Either we mail it to the attorney, which costs us money for their time to forward it, or we send it through Gramma M. That means that they have to keep track of her, and I'm not asking them to do that. Our only other option is that we keep track of where she is ourselves, and there is no way on God's green earth I'm going to that time and trouble.

So I found a better solution.  I started a blog. It's anonymous, not connected to this one in any way, and it is strictly for the purpose of making pictures and updates available to that woman.  When we do our next adoption, hopefully next year, then the means to do the same for another birth mother is already intact.  This way it becomes their time and trouble to keep up, not mine. They can look at them any time they want - it's just a matter of going to the local public library and using their computer to access the internet. The pictures can be saved to a thumb drive, which anyone can buy for a few dollars at WalMart, and can be printed at any of those photo printing kiosk machines that you find all over the place these days. Therefore, the ball becomes permanently in that woman's court.  It's an easy matter for me to post appropriate pictures every so often, and that fulfills my promise - the rest is up to her.

If anyone would like to go see it - here's the link:  http://www.forthebirthmother.blogspot.com/ .

Why Buy Expensive Toys....

.....when a cardboard box will do just fine!

Poetic Justice

Danny did something mean today, being a smart-alec, so I reached over and popped him on the butt with one hand.

"Mom! What did you do that for?"

"Don't fart toward me on purpose," I said back, "I'll slap your butt every time."

So he glared at me, with his patented 'you go to Hades' scowl, and walked away.

*WHAM!*

Right into the closed half of the sliding glass door! Cracked his forehead and knocked himself over.

It was a thing of beauty! The Windex magpies would be so proud!

A Halloween History Lesson

I've learned something new about myself today. It's funny that I thought I remembered something, only to find out I wasn't quite accurate.

I always thought we did the whole trick-r-treat thing when I was a kid, but my mother assures me I have only been trick-r-treating once in my entire life. Which makes me feel a lot better.

Let me explain. I hate Halloween. I know, I know - the residents of Utah consider that tatamount to treason. But I have never liked this particular observance. I don't like being scared, I hate being startled, and I have no tolerance for the whole "evil" influence.

Yes, before you ask I am aware of the pagan holiday that began it all, the "real" meaning of All Hallow's Eve. And yes, I am also aware that Christmas, as we know it, began as a pagan holiday as well. That's not the point. I don't care about ancient pagans, what I hate is what Halloween is today, and I don't want to have anything to do with it.

Here's where my mom's history lesson makes me feel better. I've wondered if I would somehow deprive Buddy if we didn't do the whole dress-up-beg-for-candy routine. But if I never did it, and I turned out okay, then odds are pretty good that the lack of a yearly trip to threaten all our neighbors if they don't give him goodies probably won't do him any lasting damage.

This was further confirmed for me in talking to the Short One himself. He doesn't like creepy stuff any more than I do, and the decorations going up everywhere bother him. So I feel better about my decision to not partake of the Hallowe'en traditions that run rampant this time of year.

Tell ya what - we'll buy our own candy, and won't threaten any of our neighbors with mischeif. And in exchange, everyone can quit looking at me like I'm from Mars when I tell them we don't do Halloween. Fair?

I still reserve the right to dress up, but heck - why wait for one day of the year? Matter of fact, I think I'll go down to the dollar store and buy a dozen costumes or so - a pink tutu for me and some cowboy duds for Danny. We'll wear 'em next summer...

The Most Beautiful Moment

I got woke up from a (rare) nap yesterday by the tap of a little finger on my hand. This is what I woke up to - I thought I'd share this with you.

(There is sound, so turn up your volume. And for the safety of our little family, this is the censored version)