On the bright side - I lost some weight

I've been sick. 

Sick as in spending time hugging porcelain.  While G hovered nearby, jockeying for a good view, offering helpful hints such as "You gonna flush dat, Mama?"  For the love.

G kept coming to my bedside, insisting "I hungy Mama; I hungy."  To which I kept brushing him away "Pretzels; get pretzels."  Little guy polished off a whole bag full.  Breakfast, snack, and lunch.  Poor dude.

This morning I'm feeling better.  I made him giant pancakes.  He ate FOUR: "I glad you feeling better Mama." 

Me too, G.  Me too.

"Thank You"

A few weeks ago we saw G’s cataract specialist. He’s a busy surgeon, apparently “the best” in this area.

After the appointment was over and he had left the room… he walked back in. He came close and looked me seriously in the eye and said, “I want to thank you for what you are doing for him (nodding to G).” And then he left again.

Now, if I was G’s biological mom, I might appreciate that comment. G can be a bit of a pill, and hauling his uncooperative self miles away, bribing him through procedures, and persevering through insurance dilemmas… that is worth a thank you.

But, let’s face it, the surgeon was offering his thanks because I was doing this for a child who is not really mine. Only – HELLO WORLD – he is mine! G is my son. I love him as I love Joseph. No one needs to thank me for caring for G.

In fact, if you wanted to come up to me and announce, “You are so blessed to have this amazing son,” then you would get my agreement.

My place is on the giving end - not the receiving end - of a million Thank Yous.

Should be obvious.  Right?

Growing again

Time for G to move up another size in jeans

which is good

since all of the old jeans have seen better days.

Pushing cars & trucks all day has its ramifications.

EIGHT PAIRS of holey jeans.  Sheesh.

A Passport. (exhale.)

My youngest son has been home from Haiti for 773 days.

Oh - the hours I've spent during those days, trying to secure his status as a US citizen.

After we received his permanent resident card last December, I called USC!S to ask if G finally was a citizen.  The nice man helped me for a long. long. long time.  He checked all kinds of different sources & regulations.  Finally he let me know that I could try applying for an N-600.

"But," said I, "An N-600 would cost $550.  All I want to know is whether or not he is now a citizen."

He persevered in his research.  Finally he offered, "Well, you could wait until February, when G has been with you for two years, and then try applying for a passport."

Passport applications cost $80.  A bargain!  We invested another hour at the post office, and today

IT ARRIVED.

G's very own passport.  And under "Nationality" it says "United States of America."

After holding my breath for 773 days.... exhale.

Next stop: A social security number.  Wish me luck.


p.s. For my newer friends - our journey has been extra complicated because of the Haitian earthquake.  Families who are in the adoption process now shouldn't face any of these struggles :)

 

Tire Repair

Joseph's ancient vehicle got a flat tire.

Which was, like, the best news that G has ever received - Obviously.

The repair plan included using a hand pump to fill the tire enough so that Joseph could drive to the shop.

Which was, like the best news that G has ever received - Again - Obviously.

G shadowed Joseph closely through each step of the process.  He insisted on "helping" with the pumping.  Starting with "Let's carry da pump together!"

One of my favorite quotes from this Spring Break was hearing Joseph tell G: "Ok, G.  We'll take turns.  But my turn is going to be a little longer than yours because I'm older than you."

Thank goodness for Joseph's patience.

Wit Da Boys

How terribly my little one wants to be "wit da boys."

Joseph & his friends spend most of their time in his bedroom playing video games.  But one night they sat downstairs and played a board game.

Notice where G is?

Yep, right in the middle of the couch.

He couldn't play the game, but he was content just to be there.

Later that night, after the boys retreated to Joseph's room, G disolved in tears: "Mama, dey close dat door and dey say I not can play with dem.  I just wanna play wit dem."

Literally -(the boy who stands up fearlessly to any bully)- crying in my lap.

Sweet, sweet boy.

Volumes of Food

If you were going to have 4 college boys living in your home, exactly how much food would you prepare?

Let's start with breakfast.

I purchased bagels & cream cheese, waffles, english muffins, pancakes, sausage, eggs, yogurt, fruit, cereal, and muffins.

You'd think that would hold the tide, right?

No! No! No!

The correct answer is: When young men sleep until noon, then NO breakfast is needed!

What kind of a rookie parent am I, anyway?  Sheesh.




Anyone want to come over for breakfast with me & G?




Please?

Gearing Up

Joseph's Spring Break will be coming soon.  G's prayers for his brother's return home will be answered.

AND.

In a fascinating twist, Joseph will be bringing 3 friends home with him for the Break.  4 college boys in the house for a week.

Of course, my main thought is HOWEVER WILL I FEED THEM?!?!

For someone whose "meal planning" consists of coming home each night and hopefully opening cabinets & freezer... this should be interesting.

I can't wait.

Which makes two of us.