Getting ready for court

Kyle's adoption hearing is scheduled for October 27, 2006 at 9 AM in the Douglas County courts. John and I will stand before a judge and testify to our competence at parenting. The judge then decides if we are worthy or adequate. Yikes! Most parents have sex, and nine months later a baby is born. Nobody pokes into their lives to make sure the crib slats are x amount of inches apart, or that their home is completely baby-proofed long before the baby can turn over. Nobody demands printouts of their bank accounts or runs credit checks to make sure they can afford care for the baby, or watches to see if they can put a diaper on correctly. Most of all, they don't have to worry that after caring for their beloved wee one for six months, somebody could look at all the data and decide someone else could do a better job, or a birthparent may suddenly decide they want to take their bundle back. Adoptive parents, on the other hand, live on the brink for six months.

Good news is that parental rights have been terminated on both sides. We don't have to worry about the "sudden change of heart". The adoption agency, the pediatrician - they all advocate for us as parents. John and I aren't crackheads, so there is little chance the judge would deny us permanent parenthood. But, the idea of being on trial... it's kinda creepy!

Tomorrow I will submit a deposition from the pediatrician (He simply wrote that Kyle is a perfect baby), and a month-by-month narrative on my expereince as a mother. It's amazing how fast time flew over the past six months. We're almost there. Kyle is almost officially a Gudger. The invasive monthly questioning about what formula is he drinking, how are John and I getting along, what does our financial picture look like - it all will end! YEAH!

Then the court hearing.

Then, John and I can be NORMAL parents doing normal parent things. We can travel out of town without having to report our locations. We can not have to worry about someone deciding we don't make enough money to have a baby in the house. Kyle will be ours. Forever.

No one can ever un-adopt him from us. No matter what, he'll be our son - poopy butt, and oatmeal-faced grin and all!

As tedious as the whole adoption process is, the beauty of it is that Kyle will KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was and is wanted. We waited a lOOONNNNNGGGG time for him and had to work very hard to make the deal a done one. It's also the picture of how we entered God's family.

We paid a big price for Kyle. One that we really couldn't afford. God paid a price - the most costly - to make us members of His family. Angela gave up her only son to us, to make our lives fuller and more complete. God gave up his only son to make our lives complete and forever. Wow!

Adoption is hard. Sometimes the process and red tape can be a pain in the posterior, but it is SO worth it. I don't regret being infertile. If I could conceive babies, Kyle would not be in my life. I love that Little Booger so much, I can't imagine life without him. I don't want to. I would die. God has blessed me beyond my wildest imagination with this very special baby.

Life in many ways, sucks for John and I right now. We are in serious finacial crisis, but the pain associated with those trials diminishes when those chocolate brown eyes squint, the nose wrinkles, and the toothless mouth opens in a squeals of joy.

One month from now, we will celebrate. Kyle will be ours!

Being a Christian in a FILTHY litterbox

"That's not fair!" I'd bellow, my face red and contorted into something resembling an accordian.

"Life's not fair." Mom'd say, her blue eyes blazing like twin blow-torches.

I can't begin to tell you how true her statement was/is, and how much I HATE that truth. Life is not only unfair, it's downright cruel. So much in fact, that for the past several weeks, I've been wrestling with my belief in a loving God.

Sparing you all the heinous details, I will say that for past five years, my husband and I have been plagued trials of many kinds. Right now, we are facing some harrowing and potentially devestating financial consequences from a string of layoffs John had no control over. Talk about unfair! (He's an architect and the Denver market has been far from stable since 9/11). The firm he currently works for, has it's entire crew on reduced salary and may have to lay off come Oct 31 if big contracts don't materialize. John is the latest hire...

When he told me that wonderful news I lost it. I've screamed at God, given Him the silent treatment, called him names, refused to sing praise songs and withdrawn from life in general. The most ironic detail is that we are on our SECOND Crown Ministries plan to get out of debt. We are working with a coach b/c our needs are so severe and unique.

Isn't it odd that when we choose to obey God and try to live life the way He prescribes in His Word, we get sucked into a furnace... or am I the only one who experiences this?

I want ot know WHY? Why do people who consciously disobey God seem to reap blessing vs. punishment? It's all around me - folks prospering from blatently sinful behaviors! I'm no saint, don't get me wrong, but I try. John tries soooooo hard too. Currently I have multiple robbery plots and scams running through my financially anemic brain, but I know I can NEVER act upon them. Drat.

Sunday, Pastor Jim mentioned (again) that we are not created for this world.

Hi. I'm Darcie, and I'm an alien.

As a mystery novel fan, I have not found a mystery more puzzling than my Creator. He baffles me. He makes me mad sometimes - well, I react to what He allows by getting mad. Other times I feel Him touch me gently on the shoulder when I stand in the choir and do my best lip-sync job.

If life sucks so much, and it really is WORSE in some ways as a Christian (we don't have all those coping vices available to us for instant, momentary relief or escape), why do some of us choose to hand our minds, bodies and souls back to our Creator? Why do we let this Jesus, a man of sorrows and suffering, be our Lord rather than pleasure? Why, when He becons me to burrow farther and farther into the litterbox with Him, do I spread my fingers and begin to rake at the clay?

Why?

I've been thinking this through for about two weeks now and all I can come up with is that I'd be TERRIFIED to be in the Litterbox without Him. I wouldn't want to be. I hang onto His promise that He has gone ahead to prepare a place for me. My rewards are in Heaven. Jesus did say that in this world we'd have a heap of trouble (heap of turds to fit the analogy), but not to worry. He has overcome the world (and carries a giant scoop to clear the path).

Thank you Mrs. Samuel for scaring the Hell out of me in Sunday School when I was six, and thank you Mom and Dad for reinforcing the reality of God as I grew up. God is bigger than any poop that falls on my head!

Do sweet potatoes go with my outfit?

Sorry, the promised post is still coming - can't figure out why the camera and computer won't talk.

The Little Booger is almost 5.5 months old already! That means it's time to learn how to eat "solid" foods. Food that slides off the spoon onto your lap before you get it into the tightly closed lips hardly counts as solid!

The pediatrician said it was time. I went out and bought some rice cereal. She told me that all babies like rice cereal. He sure ate it for Grandma, but when I tried to feed him at home, I ended up wearing it!

Sooooo back to Babies R Us for some other flavors. I found a 12 pack "Starter Kit fruit" and "Starter Kit vegetable". They were only $3 each. Not bad for someone whose bank account is anemic.

Bananas went in with a little work (on my part). Apple sauce - same as bananas. Green peas? That little mouth hinged open EVERY TIME the spoon touched his lips with the horrid green stuff. Okay, that's one veggie gone well, let me try another one - sweet potatoes. Who doesn't like them? I had to jam the spoon between his little lips, then in an instant the sticky orange goo was sprayed back at me.

"Listen here kid, " I said reloading the spoon with another blob, "babies are supposed to like sweet potatoes and I bought a starter pack with three more jars. You're gonna like the sweet potatoes. I mean, come on, you LOVED the peas!, most people HATE peas!"

I may have to throw away my shirt. Do sweet potatoes come out of synthetic fabric? What do I do with the remaining jars?

I may have to go to Home Depot and buy plexi-glass to make myself a shield until I can know what Kyle likes to eat. He knows how to let me know when he doesn't like something. I can't afford a whole new wardrobe unless weridly colored stains become vogue...

At least I can laugh...now...right? (until he spews all over my new clothes for church...)

Got a great new post and some pics BUT...

My stupid computer thinks everything plugged into the USB port(s) are malfunctioning. Grrrr.

Keep checking with me. This post is kinda cute...

Terrible Teething and drowing in drool

YesterdayI carefully pushed open the door, hoping to minimize the dreadful SKWEECH of wood against wood - a sound so awful, the cats explode away from my ankles like buckshot from a shotgun. The sun filtered through the cottonwood tree, casting speckled shadows on the green wall above the crib. On my tippee toes I padded to the rails to wake the Little Booger for his breakfast. Peeking over the rails expecting a toothless grin and smiling eyes I drew my breath in sharply, my heart skipped a beat or two... or three.

For inside the crib...

lay not a baby...

But.

A.

FAUCET!

Not just any 'ol faucet, mind you, it was one of those wide-mouthed faucets used to fill up 3000 gallon luxury tubs - kinda like those found in Pinehurst homes lining the excluive golf course.

Water sloshed against the bumper, the quilted animals treading water, gasping for breath. Closing my eyes, I reached down into the slimy, gooey lake and grabbed the faucet, hoping to turn it off before the upper level of my home caved in from the weight of the liquid deluge.

Pulling the faucet to my chest, I discovered the valve was missing. It let out a squeal and cooed in my ear. It reminded me of the baby that once was - a baby that slobbered a little bit and spit up all over me after feeding.

Squeals turned into shrieks. Shrieks morphed into ear drum splitting screams and an increased flow rate. I was wet!

I secured this baby-turned faucet into his car seat trying to fly under police radar to Babies R Us for some gum medicine.

I'm not sure how that stuff is supposed to work when it gets drooled off the gums all over the baby. I think his belly button was numbed...

A few frozen teething toys later and the faucet slowed - a little bit by drifting into a restless slumber.

At five months plus one week and a day, the teething has begun. Oh what fun.