So, in honor of our pending trip across country, I decided to look up the TSA Regulations for what we can carry on so that I don't have to throw away a bunch of stuff when we try to pass through the security check-point. Mainly, I wanted to know if I could bring soy milk for Marcie (it's not listed as a permissible liquid in amounts greater than 3 oz., but baby formula and juice are, so I'm going to bring a box of it anyway, and if they may be toss it, so be it).
I was surprised to discover there have been some changes in the TSA regulations.
Most notable is that I am now permitted to bring scissors with metal tips that measure less than 4 inches in length. I used to travel with small scissors pre-children (and pre-9-11, obviously) because I cross-stitched on the plane. My very sharp Fiskars are a fraction or two under the two-inch mark. But man are those things sharp. I wasn't planning to bring scissors, but then when I saw that screwdrivers 7 inches in length or shorter are permitted in carry-on bags, I began to think maybe I should bring my puny scissors for protection. You know, just in case we need them on the plane. (I don't want to be too explicit here for fear I'll trigger some red alert and screw myself out of the trip!)
Then I decided to read what items are not allowed in your carry on. I was pleased to learn that swords and sabers are among the list of prohibited items. Along with cattle prods, throwing stars, and axes or hatchets. Geez. What kinds of items were people bringing on airplanes before?
In any event, I know I'll be safe. As long as I have my trusty Fiskars nearby. Heh heh.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Why I Am Becoming a Lawyer
This post is because Johnny requested it.
The truth is, I did not want to become a lawyer. There. I've said it out loud. Written it anyway. I loved being a teacher. I felt called to be a teacher. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of things that sucked about being a classroom teacher. But for the most part, it was exactly what I expected. I knew I wanted to be a high school teacher before I went off to college, and so that's what I did. More specifically, I wanted to teach high school English and coach high school Speech & Debate. And I did. I also taught first year Spanish, which I did not want to do, but ended up loving. So I'm glad I was forced into it. And were I to go back to the classroom, I think I'd want the Spanish-English split again. First year Spanish is a whole lotta fun and games. And teaching English means, well, a whole lotta paper grading.
Anyway, every year I did a project with my juniors in American Literature to Billy Joel's song River of Dreams, and one of the symbols in the song is the ocean of life-- and I asked students to project where they saw themselves in their individual oceans of life. Now, I never gave an assignment I didn't do myself, and after about 5 years of teaching, I realized I really wanted to get a graduate level degree in something other than Education (I already had my Master of Education). More than that, though, I really wanted to become a parent. And so I put them both on my poster and spoke of them briefly in my "model" presentation. How do these two things fit together? I'm not sure. But this is my story.
After I'd been married for a couple of years, I could tell that continuing to coach debate would mean big trouble for our relationship. I give kudos to those people who spend several days a week apart, or several weeks a month, or several months a year-- you get the point. And my husband and I both grew up in families where our dads were gone. A lot. Mine as an airline pilot-- so he was more of the several days a week type. His dad was in the Navy, so he was gone for much longer stretches. And home for longer stretches, too. Anyway, as it turned out, we are not a couple destined to be apart for long. And the strain of traveling with 30-some-odd high school students for two weekends a month was creating tension. So I made a decision to leave coaching. It was a hard choice in many ways. But to me it felt like it was that or my marriage, so it wasn't that hard, at the same time. Plus, I had more "friends" who were 16 than 27, so that didn't bode well for me.
Once I left coaching, though, I felt restless (me, bored? shocking!). Right around that time, I had received (earned, really) a National Board certification and people were stopping my classroom to observe me more often. Plus I'd become a department chair. (That's what happens when I get bored!) One of the groups that had come to observe me liked what I saw and offered me a job at the County Office of Education (ironically) traveling all over the state and training teacher leaders in a new literacy program. The job also allowed me, well required me, really, to help design professional development for teachers. AND it was a "loan" position, which means I never technically would leave my employment with my school district. The district and the county would have a contract; the district would hold my job and pay me my salary and benefits and the county would reimburse the district. Good deal for me.
So I took the job at the county, a job which was going to last the remainder of the school year plus one additional school year.
And once I was out of the classroom, I got antsy again. I started to think about how I'd really wanted that doctorate or something. So I decided to apply to law school. And we weren't having much luck growing our family the traditional, biological way. And at the same time, we also decided to pursue adoption. And fertility. Oh. And I began to train for a marathon about 6 months after that.
Well, the fertility was slow-going and I wanted a child. Like now. So a year later, there I was having just finished the marathon, holding our son in my arms in the midst of a snow storm in Ohio. And life was good. I didn't really care about law school any more. I was going to go back to teaching, to teach part time, and life would be good. Plus, it didn't look like I was going to get accepted to law school anyway.
And then, three days before orientation, I got a phone call from the dean of the law school offering me a seat. I hesitated. Really hesitated. But with a lot of nudging from Jason, I agreed to try it for a year. We reasoned that litigation is a lot like speech & debate (and it actually is). I like speech and debate. Plus, if I did well, I could earn as an attorney what we make combined. And that would mean Jason could quit his job and stay home. As you can see, there are a lot of contingencies in this plan.
So off to law school I went. I loved being a student. It was a lot of work, but it was interesting. I enjoyed legal skills class and oral arguments. And I did really well my first year. But any time things got tough, I'd say to Jason, "I'm just gonna quit law school. There's no shame in that. I really liked be a teacher-- I don't mind doing that again." And Jason would prod me forward.
At the end of my first year (I was in a four-year parttime program so I could continue to work while in school so we wouldn't have to lose the house to put me through school), I was at the top of my class. So I applied for summer jobs. And got one. And hated it. I won't go into where I worked because that would be rude. But let's just say, there I was half way through law school and thinking I really had wasted two years-- because I didn't like being a lawyer. I asked the career counselor about it. And a professor I respected. And they convinced me it was not lawyering I didn't like, it was the firm. Plus, I was on nearly a full academic scholarship after my first year, so the education was free (well, monetarily, anyway). I had nothing to lose (other than time) by sticking it out. So I did.
At the end of my second year, I was still at the top of my class. I interviewed at all the big firms and got offers from most of them. Then hemmed and hawed about picking one that would be the most family-friendly (if there is such a thing) because I knew I wanted balance. And at the end of my third year, I worked there for the summer. And learned that I really do like litigation work, but the transactional stuff just isn't my cup of tea. And while we were in China to meet Marcie, they called and offered me a post-graduation position, which I promptly accepted on the spot. And that's where I'll be working come October-- and, if I passed the darn bar exam, hopefully my tenure will stretch much longer than that. Otherwise, I just might return to the classroom in 2008!
So that all doesn't answer the why of lawyering; it really talks about the how. Why become a lawyer? I have answered this question many times-- sometimes to convince my teacher friends that I'm not selling out. And sometimes to convince attorneys that this isn't a temporary detour in life. And the bottom line is this: I like researching and writing and arguing. I like thinking quickly on my feet, feeling intellectually challenged. I like feeling like I've made a difference in someone else's life.
Did I get all that from teaching? Pretty much, yeah. Will I get all that from being an attorney? I don't know yet. But I do know that becoming an attorney is a decision that's good not just for me but for my family. Because it means we can maintain our lifestyle and they can have an at-home parent devoted to the kids' needs. If Jason weren't willing to stay home full time, I'm not sure I'd be interested in becoming a lawyer. And I don't think having a parent at home is a necessary thing. But it makes sense for us, and for our kids. And shucks, if we can afford it, why not give it a shot?
Maybe I will hate it and go back to teaching. Who knows. But I don't feel badly about leaving education to pursue more money elsewhere, because it's not just about the money. And besides that, imagine if every semi-talented person who could teach actually did for just five years. Don't you think the quality of education would be better? I can't help but think my 5 1/2 years in the classroom made a difference-- to those students, to other teachers. And I likewise like to believe that in the 5 1/2 years since, while I've been designing professional development programs for teachers, I've still been touching kids in some (very) indirect way. I've done my part. I've paid my dues. And I owe it to my own children to provide for them in the very best way I can.
So there you have it. I may end up hating it. But I know I have to give it a shot. And honestly, I think I'll love it . . .
The truth is, I did not want to become a lawyer. There. I've said it out loud. Written it anyway. I loved being a teacher. I felt called to be a teacher. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of things that sucked about being a classroom teacher. But for the most part, it was exactly what I expected. I knew I wanted to be a high school teacher before I went off to college, and so that's what I did. More specifically, I wanted to teach high school English and coach high school Speech & Debate. And I did. I also taught first year Spanish, which I did not want to do, but ended up loving. So I'm glad I was forced into it. And were I to go back to the classroom, I think I'd want the Spanish-English split again. First year Spanish is a whole lotta fun and games. And teaching English means, well, a whole lotta paper grading.
Anyway, every year I did a project with my juniors in American Literature to Billy Joel's song River of Dreams, and one of the symbols in the song is the ocean of life-- and I asked students to project where they saw themselves in their individual oceans of life. Now, I never gave an assignment I didn't do myself, and after about 5 years of teaching, I realized I really wanted to get a graduate level degree in something other than Education (I already had my Master of Education). More than that, though, I really wanted to become a parent. And so I put them both on my poster and spoke of them briefly in my "model" presentation. How do these two things fit together? I'm not sure. But this is my story.
After I'd been married for a couple of years, I could tell that continuing to coach debate would mean big trouble for our relationship. I give kudos to those people who spend several days a week apart, or several weeks a month, or several months a year-- you get the point. And my husband and I both grew up in families where our dads were gone. A lot. Mine as an airline pilot-- so he was more of the several days a week type. His dad was in the Navy, so he was gone for much longer stretches. And home for longer stretches, too. Anyway, as it turned out, we are not a couple destined to be apart for long. And the strain of traveling with 30-some-odd high school students for two weekends a month was creating tension. So I made a decision to leave coaching. It was a hard choice in many ways. But to me it felt like it was that or my marriage, so it wasn't that hard, at the same time. Plus, I had more "friends" who were 16 than 27, so that didn't bode well for me.
Once I left coaching, though, I felt restless (me, bored? shocking!). Right around that time, I had received (earned, really) a National Board certification and people were stopping my classroom to observe me more often. Plus I'd become a department chair. (That's what happens when I get bored!) One of the groups that had come to observe me liked what I saw and offered me a job at the County Office of Education (ironically) traveling all over the state and training teacher leaders in a new literacy program. The job also allowed me, well required me, really, to help design professional development for teachers. AND it was a "loan" position, which means I never technically would leave my employment with my school district. The district and the county would have a contract; the district would hold my job and pay me my salary and benefits and the county would reimburse the district. Good deal for me.
So I took the job at the county, a job which was going to last the remainder of the school year plus one additional school year.
And once I was out of the classroom, I got antsy again. I started to think about how I'd really wanted that doctorate or something. So I decided to apply to law school. And we weren't having much luck growing our family the traditional, biological way. And at the same time, we also decided to pursue adoption. And fertility. Oh. And I began to train for a marathon about 6 months after that.
Well, the fertility was slow-going and I wanted a child. Like now. So a year later, there I was having just finished the marathon, holding our son in my arms in the midst of a snow storm in Ohio. And life was good. I didn't really care about law school any more. I was going to go back to teaching, to teach part time, and life would be good. Plus, it didn't look like I was going to get accepted to law school anyway.
And then, three days before orientation, I got a phone call from the dean of the law school offering me a seat. I hesitated. Really hesitated. But with a lot of nudging from Jason, I agreed to try it for a year. We reasoned that litigation is a lot like speech & debate (and it actually is). I like speech and debate. Plus, if I did well, I could earn as an attorney what we make combined. And that would mean Jason could quit his job and stay home. As you can see, there are a lot of contingencies in this plan.
So off to law school I went. I loved being a student. It was a lot of work, but it was interesting. I enjoyed legal skills class and oral arguments. And I did really well my first year. But any time things got tough, I'd say to Jason, "I'm just gonna quit law school. There's no shame in that. I really liked be a teacher-- I don't mind doing that again." And Jason would prod me forward.
At the end of my first year (I was in a four-year parttime program so I could continue to work while in school so we wouldn't have to lose the house to put me through school), I was at the top of my class. So I applied for summer jobs. And got one. And hated it. I won't go into where I worked because that would be rude. But let's just say, there I was half way through law school and thinking I really had wasted two years-- because I didn't like being a lawyer. I asked the career counselor about it. And a professor I respected. And they convinced me it was not lawyering I didn't like, it was the firm. Plus, I was on nearly a full academic scholarship after my first year, so the education was free (well, monetarily, anyway). I had nothing to lose (other than time) by sticking it out. So I did.
At the end of my second year, I was still at the top of my class. I interviewed at all the big firms and got offers from most of them. Then hemmed and hawed about picking one that would be the most family-friendly (if there is such a thing) because I knew I wanted balance. And at the end of my third year, I worked there for the summer. And learned that I really do like litigation work, but the transactional stuff just isn't my cup of tea. And while we were in China to meet Marcie, they called and offered me a post-graduation position, which I promptly accepted on the spot. And that's where I'll be working come October-- and, if I passed the darn bar exam, hopefully my tenure will stretch much longer than that. Otherwise, I just might return to the classroom in 2008!
So that all doesn't answer the why of lawyering; it really talks about the how. Why become a lawyer? I have answered this question many times-- sometimes to convince my teacher friends that I'm not selling out. And sometimes to convince attorneys that this isn't a temporary detour in life. And the bottom line is this: I like researching and writing and arguing. I like thinking quickly on my feet, feeling intellectually challenged. I like feeling like I've made a difference in someone else's life.
Did I get all that from teaching? Pretty much, yeah. Will I get all that from being an attorney? I don't know yet. But I do know that becoming an attorney is a decision that's good not just for me but for my family. Because it means we can maintain our lifestyle and they can have an at-home parent devoted to the kids' needs. If Jason weren't willing to stay home full time, I'm not sure I'd be interested in becoming a lawyer. And I don't think having a parent at home is a necessary thing. But it makes sense for us, and for our kids. And shucks, if we can afford it, why not give it a shot?
Maybe I will hate it and go back to teaching. Who knows. But I don't feel badly about leaving education to pursue more money elsewhere, because it's not just about the money. And besides that, imagine if every semi-talented person who could teach actually did for just five years. Don't you think the quality of education would be better? I can't help but think my 5 1/2 years in the classroom made a difference-- to those students, to other teachers. And I likewise like to believe that in the 5 1/2 years since, while I've been designing professional development programs for teachers, I've still been touching kids in some (very) indirect way. I've done my part. I've paid my dues. And I owe it to my own children to provide for them in the very best way I can.
So there you have it. I may end up hating it. But I know I have to give it a shot. And honestly, I think I'll love it . . .
Friday, July 27, 2007
Whew. Glad that's over.
At least for now. I survived the July 2007 California Bar Exam. My computer didn't crash. There were no earthquakes. My mind did not go utterly blank, so I had plenty to say on the essays. I finished all the tasks in the "performance test" portion of the test. There were no earthquakes and the power functioned properly the entire time. No one sitting near me freaked out or had a break-down. People were relatively friendly and polite. The proctors were pleasant enough.
So the bottom line is that if I didn't pass this test, it's not because of the environment. And we all know it's not because I didn't study enough. I did every single assignment BarBri gave me. Plus some. And then some more. I did not slack. I did everything "right," and if I didn't pass this test, it will truly be because of my performance. And yeah, I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse, but since I won't be getting any results until November, I am willing myself not to worry about it.
I stayed at a hotel downtown for the past three nights, and although I don't think I actually I slept any better, but it sure was luxurious in the mornings to only worry about getting myself up and out the door. . .
So there you have it. Sort of anti-climactic, I suppose. On the one hand, I feel like celebrating just for making it through. On the other hand, I don't feel like I deserve to celebrate unless I actually passed. And then there is that sense of . . . I don't know . . . loss, maybe? I mean, I have spent the past four years and 10 weeks doing this, and now my life is going to be very different again. Just knowing that feels strange . . . Don't get me wrong; I'm looking forward to the next phase. But change is always hard, especially for those of us who are creatures of routine.
In the meantime, I'm going to be keeping plenty busy. Casey and I are going to Seaworld today. We have a bridal shower tomorrow (kids invited!), and Sunday my sister comes into town just for a few days. Then we are off to Ohio to visit with Casey's birth family, and on to North Carolina to visit with my parents and my childhood best friend.
And in the immediate future, I hear Harry Potter calling my name. I'm re-reading Half Blood Prince before I start Deathly Hallows-- and I must say, keeping away from all media and potential spoilers regarding this last book in the series has been a bit tricky. Even in the midst of the bar exam. But somehow, I've managed. So don't spoil it for me!
So the bottom line is that if I didn't pass this test, it's not because of the environment. And we all know it's not because I didn't study enough. I did every single assignment BarBri gave me. Plus some. And then some more. I did not slack. I did everything "right," and if I didn't pass this test, it will truly be because of my performance. And yeah, I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse, but since I won't be getting any results until November, I am willing myself not to worry about it.
I stayed at a hotel downtown for the past three nights, and although I don't think I actually I slept any better, but it sure was luxurious in the mornings to only worry about getting myself up and out the door. . .
So there you have it. Sort of anti-climactic, I suppose. On the one hand, I feel like celebrating just for making it through. On the other hand, I don't feel like I deserve to celebrate unless I actually passed. And then there is that sense of . . . I don't know . . . loss, maybe? I mean, I have spent the past four years and 10 weeks doing this, and now my life is going to be very different again. Just knowing that feels strange . . . Don't get me wrong; I'm looking forward to the next phase. But change is always hard, especially for those of us who are creatures of routine.
In the meantime, I'm going to be keeping plenty busy. Casey and I are going to Seaworld today. We have a bridal shower tomorrow (kids invited!), and Sunday my sister comes into town just for a few days. Then we are off to Ohio to visit with Casey's birth family, and on to North Carolina to visit with my parents and my childhood best friend.
And in the immediate future, I hear Harry Potter calling my name. I'm re-reading Half Blood Prince before I start Deathly Hallows-- and I must say, keeping away from all media and potential spoilers regarding this last book in the series has been a bit tricky. Even in the midst of the bar exam. But somehow, I've managed. So don't spoil it for me!
Monday, July 23, 2007
And Life Goes On
Even in the midst of the dreaded Bar Exam studying, my life has had its moments of complete normalcy. On the first day of the bar review course, they make a point to those of us with kids that we should essentially ignore them, let whomever is watching them know not to contact us unless they are bleeding. I don't know. Perhaps I'll regret not heeding this advice, particularly if I don't pass the test, but I just couldn't bring myself to ignore them. I've certainly neglected them to some degree, but I've tried to maintain the tiniest amount of, well, normalcy, too.
Here is some evidence:
Um, guess who found my lipstick?
Last night at Red Robin with Joey, helping celebrate his third birthday (which is today):
Here is some evidence:
Um, guess who found my lipstick?
Last night at Red Robin with Joey, helping celebrate his third birthday (which is today):
Footprint on the Wall
We re-painted our living space about 3 1/2 years ago, after the house flooded from a slab leak and we had to replace dry wall, retexture, and repaint. I say we but actually our homeowner's insurance paid for professionals. The family room, which the kids and I call the TV room has a long wall, painted beige. It's pretty gross, even after just three years. There are food stains and drink stains, mainly. But a few days after Fourth of July I noticed something new: a footprint. At first, I thought it was a handprint. But upon further investigation, Jason and I realized it's a footprint. A little, muddy footprint.
This made me laugh. Hard. And out loud. I mean, how did a tiny, dirty footprint end up twelve inches up the wall? Did someone bounce off of it?
It reminds me of that one party I threw back some time around 1997. The one where my friend fell off the edge of the spa and ended up with a concussion, but we all thought it was so funny she fell backwards and hit the pavement, we laughed. We were too intoxicated to realize she was hurt. She was too intoxicated to realize she was hurt, too. We got lucky she wasn't more injured. And then I discovered the broken toilet seat. Who breaks a toilet seat and doesn't mention it to the hostess? The point is that it was a crazy party. The only crazy party I've ever thrown. Maybe the only crazy party I've ever been to. We talk about our adult lives as before that party and after that party. And we had fun, despite our complete irresponsibility (this was before spouses and children of course). Or maybe because of it, I don't know. But I remember it fondly nonetheless.
Well, the footprint makes me feel like that. Like I threw one of those cool, crazy parties that everyone talks about for years afterward. Except it was a toddler party. And the evidence of it isn't a great story about drunken concussions or broken toilet seats, or beer replacing the water in the spa. The only evidence is a single, tiny, muddy footprint. Makes me not want to paint over the thing. . .
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Cheerios Parade
No, it's not some cool activity to do with your kids (though feel free to figure out how to create a Cheerios parade with them and share with us!), it's the arrival of summertime ants.
The other day, while I was showering and combing my hair (I've actually pretty much given up on make-up and blow-drying these days, though I plan to resume those activities this week when I take the Bar), Marcie was snacking away on her dry Cheerios in the bathroom. Somehow she lost her balance, and the Cheerios spilled all over the floor. Next to the laundry basket filled with clothes to wash. She pulled herself up, but apparently as she did so, she crushed some of the Cheerios. The rest, she and I cleaned up together.
I didn't think to look for hidden Cheerio dust. Or crumbs. Though I knew we'd been seeing occasional ants in the bathroom seeking water. And off I went to school.
When I got home around 10:30pm that night, there was a trail of ants on a Cheerios parade. They entered through our bathroom window-- which is over five feet off the ground. They paraded down the wall, across our clothes, and then scattered on the floor. Despite feeling pretty grossed out by the view of ants in my pants (literally), I was intrigued by the series of ants on the wall passing pieces of Cheerios bigger than they were up the wall. It was pretty amazing. I complain about carrying almost-40-pound Casey on my shoulders during walks up hills (I feel like he bares down on my chest and it's hard to breathe), and these ants were carrying crumbs twice their size!
Anyway, I couldn't go to bed knowing there were ants all over my clothes, and the floor, and the wall, and the window. So, of course I had to clean it up, shake out my pants and shirts, vacuum the Cheerio crumbs and dust, suck the ants off the wall, and Windex the window (to kill the ants). It took me about 30-45 minutes. But the ants have stayed away since.
The other day, while I was showering and combing my hair (I've actually pretty much given up on make-up and blow-drying these days, though I plan to resume those activities this week when I take the Bar), Marcie was snacking away on her dry Cheerios in the bathroom. Somehow she lost her balance, and the Cheerios spilled all over the floor. Next to the laundry basket filled with clothes to wash. She pulled herself up, but apparently as she did so, she crushed some of the Cheerios. The rest, she and I cleaned up together.
I didn't think to look for hidden Cheerio dust. Or crumbs. Though I knew we'd been seeing occasional ants in the bathroom seeking water. And off I went to school.
When I got home around 10:30pm that night, there was a trail of ants on a Cheerios parade. They entered through our bathroom window-- which is over five feet off the ground. They paraded down the wall, across our clothes, and then scattered on the floor. Despite feeling pretty grossed out by the view of ants in my pants (literally), I was intrigued by the series of ants on the wall passing pieces of Cheerios bigger than they were up the wall. It was pretty amazing. I complain about carrying almost-40-pound Casey on my shoulders during walks up hills (I feel like he bares down on my chest and it's hard to breathe), and these ants were carrying crumbs twice their size!
Anyway, I couldn't go to bed knowing there were ants all over my clothes, and the floor, and the wall, and the window. So, of course I had to clean it up, shake out my pants and shirts, vacuum the Cheerio crumbs and dust, suck the ants off the wall, and Windex the window (to kill the ants). It took me about 30-45 minutes. But the ants have stayed away since.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Giant Vat of Pepto Bismal
When I was in high school, competing in speech & debate, I used to carry around those chewable Pepto Bismal tablets at tournaments and pop them every four hours or so. They turned my tongue black, but they kept my stomach in check.
When I was in college, if I procrastinated on a paper or assignment, a couple days before it was due, I'd break out in hives, or the palms of my hand and my eyes would swell up. It didn't take me long to figure out the cause-- and the solution. Get things done efficiently and in advance. Interestingly, I no longer needed Pepto Bismal for the speech & debate tournaments.
Today my stomach is killing me. I know it's not something I've eaten. I know it's nerves. I know the pending Bar Exam is the cause. It's in three days. Three. Days. That's a long time to have a tummy ache. I finally left the library and came home to study-- I'm hoping being away from all the tension in the air will help my stomach feel better. But I know the truth. It'll only feel better after the exam is over on Thursday. A part of me is irritated by this new development. I have enough to worry about without needing Pepto Bismal on top of it all. And a part of me thinks this is a good thing. It means there is a level of anxiety in me-- a sort of adrenaline, so to speak. And I think if I didn't feel the anxiety, I'd be in big trouble. This is, after all the test. The one that is the key to the profession.
It won't be the end of the world if I don't pass it. But what a waste of a summer. And I know I'll feel embarrassed. I don't know which is more motivating. . .
I don't feel ready, if you're wondering. But another two weeks of studying wouldn't change that. I'm not going to be able to retain any additional information in my brain. Some moments I feel like I'm actually getting stupider-- I realize something new only to forget something I'd already learned. I just have to trust that I know a sufficient amount to get me through, and that's got to be good enough. How zen of me, don't you think?
So that's where I am. Still studying. Still worried. And ever more grateful it's almost over. At least for now.
When I was in college, if I procrastinated on a paper or assignment, a couple days before it was due, I'd break out in hives, or the palms of my hand and my eyes would swell up. It didn't take me long to figure out the cause-- and the solution. Get things done efficiently and in advance. Interestingly, I no longer needed Pepto Bismal for the speech & debate tournaments.
Today my stomach is killing me. I know it's not something I've eaten. I know it's nerves. I know the pending Bar Exam is the cause. It's in three days. Three. Days. That's a long time to have a tummy ache. I finally left the library and came home to study-- I'm hoping being away from all the tension in the air will help my stomach feel better. But I know the truth. It'll only feel better after the exam is over on Thursday. A part of me is irritated by this new development. I have enough to worry about without needing Pepto Bismal on top of it all. And a part of me thinks this is a good thing. It means there is a level of anxiety in me-- a sort of adrenaline, so to speak. And I think if I didn't feel the anxiety, I'd be in big trouble. This is, after all the test. The one that is the key to the profession.
It won't be the end of the world if I don't pass it. But what a waste of a summer. And I know I'll feel embarrassed. I don't know which is more motivating. . .
I don't feel ready, if you're wondering. But another two weeks of studying wouldn't change that. I'm not going to be able to retain any additional information in my brain. Some moments I feel like I'm actually getting stupider-- I realize something new only to forget something I'd already learned. I just have to trust that I know a sufficient amount to get me through, and that's got to be good enough. How zen of me, don't you think?
So that's where I am. Still studying. Still worried. And ever more grateful it's almost over. At least for now.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Oh, Happy Adoption Day
When both parents travel to China together for an adoption, you take the oath of parenthood (I don't know if that's the official name of it, but it describes what you say) and promise you didn't lie on your paperwork in front of the consular at the American Consulate in China. If both parents don't go, you have to re-adopt the child in the U.S. to make it official and final. We both traveled to China, so our adoption was legal and final in China. And Marcie became a citizen when we all crossed back into the U.S. together through customs. But we decided to re-adopt Marcie in California anyway. Just a formality since she was already legally and permanently ours (unlike in Casey's adoption), but this will allow her to get a birth certificate here in the U.S.
We arrived at the courthouse about 15 minutes early, and Marcie hung out with Casey and with Grandma. Jason and I were there, too, of course.
We didn't wait long-- less than 30 minutes. The judge was running ahead of schedule, so he called us about 10 minutes before our scheduled hearing time.
We arrived at the courthouse about 15 minutes early, and Marcie hung out with Casey and with Grandma. Jason and I were there, too, of course.
We didn't wait long-- less than 30 minutes. The judge was running ahead of schedule, so he called us about 10 minutes before our scheduled hearing time.Now, I know exactly one judge in the California courts personally. He was my criminal procedure professor for a full year of law school. I only had two professors for a full year of studies in law school, and the judge, Justice H., was one of them. He is an appellate court judge in California, and he prosecuted a very famous local case here when I was growing up. So imagine my surprise when we entered the court room and it was Justice H. who was all set up to formalize our adoption! Pretty neat, if you ask me. . .
I vaguely remember taking that parent oath when we adopted Casey. The courthouse was also much busier that day in September, but this time, things went very quickly. We signed the adoption decree, and we received our certificate. But we didn't have to make any new promises (though we were, of course, prepared to do so). This photo above is me signing my name. I forgot how long my name is to sign, being that I have two last names. And my brain is so jello-y lately, with the Bar exam a mere four days away.
I included this photo just so you could see what they do here in the jury box-- they fill it with giant, happy, stuffed children. Pretty neat.
After we signed the forms, Justice H took photos with us. We actually have a much better Polaroid version of this, but it gives you the idea.
I vaguely remember taking that parent oath when we adopted Casey. The courthouse was also much busier that day in September, but this time, things went very quickly. We signed the adoption decree, and we received our certificate. But we didn't have to make any new promises (though we were, of course, prepared to do so). This photo above is me signing my name. I forgot how long my name is to sign, being that I have two last names. And my brain is so jello-y lately, with the Bar exam a mere four days away. 
I included this photo just so you could see what they do here in the jury box-- they fill it with giant, happy, stuffed children. Pretty neat.
After we signed the forms, Justice H took photos with us. We actually have a much better Polaroid version of this, but it gives you the idea. Outside the court room we met another family there to readopt their daughter, Elizabeth. Elizabeth is from the Jangxi (did I spell that right?) province. She is 14 months old and they've been back in the U.S. for 4 months. We exchanged information so the girls can maybe get together . . .
Outside the courthouse, we took a family picture. Ann, Casey's godmother, also came to show her support for the adoption, and she was our photographer for the afternoon (thanks, Ann!). There is another picture with us all looking at the camera, but Marcie is actually smiling in this one, so I'm sharing this one instead.
The whole thing was over by 3pm. We'd planned to go to Emerald, a yummy local Chinese restaurant for a meal, but 3pm was too early. So we went to Cheesecake Factory for cake instead. Ann came with us, and despite missing out on half their naps, the kids were relatively well behaved.
Marcie's been part of our family for almost a year now. We don't even remember what life was like before her. We are so lucky . . .
Outside the courthouse, we took a family picture. Ann, Casey's godmother, also came to show her support for the adoption, and she was our photographer for the afternoon (thanks, Ann!). There is another picture with us all looking at the camera, but Marcie is actually smiling in this one, so I'm sharing this one instead.
The whole thing was over by 3pm. We'd planned to go to Emerald, a yummy local Chinese restaurant for a meal, but 3pm was too early. So we went to Cheesecake Factory for cake instead. Ann came with us, and despite missing out on half their naps, the kids were relatively well behaved.
Marcie's been part of our family for almost a year now. We don't even remember what life was like before her. We are so lucky . . .Thursday, July 12, 2007
Dear Wedding Guests
No, I'm not getting married again. But I have several friends (and a sister) who are. And watching them go through it brings it all back . . . quite vividly. My wedding planning actually pretty smoothly. My parents (bless their hearts) insisted on hiring a wedding coordinator to help me because they lived on the other side of the country. And so from Nina I learned everything I needed to know about proper wedding etiquette.
Unfortunately, I am apparently in the minority on that. And I really don't get it. I mean, if you've ever hosted a wedding or been involved in planning one (or a friend to someone who is), how could you not know how to properly read a wedding invitation? Is that snobbery on my part? Perhaps. So here is my letter to those of you who may be invited to a wedding in the near future:
Dear Wedding Guests,
If you have recently been invited to the wedding, please follow these simple rules to aid the Bride and Groom and having a happy wedding day:
W: Hi MOB, I just got Bride's invitation, and I noticed it says children are not included.
MOB: Yes.
W: I don’t understand what this means. My girls are 12 and 13.
MOB: Mmm. Hmm. What don’t you understand?
W: Well, the invitation says no children, but we don't really consider them children.
MOB: Hmm. Well, Bride and Groom haven't included any children under the age of 15 because the venue liability insurance won't permit it.
W: Well, okay.
Now, let's flash forward three days. W calls my friend, Bride. And repeats the exchange. All the while, my friend Bride is thinking: What do you mean you don't consider them children? What are they? Can they vote? Do you let them drive? Can they enter a contract legally? Do you let them gamble? Smoke? Drink? Last time I checked, 12 and 13 year olds were children!
Over-reaction? Maybe. She is studying for the bar. But there's a lesson in here-- don't keep harassing people until you get the answer you want. Seriously. Just be happy you were invited!
Unfortunately, I am apparently in the minority on that. And I really don't get it. I mean, if you've ever hosted a wedding or been involved in planning one (or a friend to someone who is), how could you not know how to properly read a wedding invitation? Is that snobbery on my part? Perhaps. So here is my letter to those of you who may be invited to a wedding in the near future:
Dear Wedding Guests,
If you have recently been invited to the wedding, please follow these simple rules to aid the Bride and Groom and having a happy wedding day:
- Please RSVP to the wedding on time. Thousands of dollars and months (or even years) have gone into planning this event. Your response is necessary for determining seating arrangements, expenses, and just so the bride and groom don't go crazy. If you can't go, let them know. If you plan to go, let them know. The key: let them know.
- If do RSVP that you plan to attend the event, and then something happens which is preventing you from attending, please contact the bride or groom. It doesn't matter that it's the night before. Or the morning of the wedding. Leave a message if no one answers. Even though it's common for a certain percentage of people who have RSVPd to not attend the wedding in the end, it's just polite to let the bride or groom know you won't be there. Life happens. They will understand, but they still care that you aren't there even on the day of their wedding. They invited you after all.
- Please don't RSVP to bring more people than listed on the invitation. What am I talking about? Check the envelope and see who it's addressed to. If it's addressed to Mr. and Mrs. S, please don't RSVP for Mr. & Mrs. S and your three kids and your kids' friends. Often time space (and budgets) are limited, and those invitations are carefully crafted. If "and family" is not on the invitation, your kids are not invited. Similarly, if you're single and your invitation does not include the phrase and guest it's because the bride and groom are expecting you there solo.
- If you don't like that your invitation is just to you and your spouse (and not your kids) or just to you (and not your boyfriend or girlfriend), don't bother the bride or groom. It was not accidental. Nothing about wedding invitations are accidental. If you're pissed, don't go. But don't harass the bride or groom into letting you bring a date (didn't we learn this from How I Met Your Mother?).
- If the invitation or response card actually specifies that children are not included, do not call the bride or the groom (or their parents) and ask if you can bring your kids because they are so well behaved. Or breast-feeding. Or because your babysitter is out of town. It's rude. Your kids are still kids. They aren't invited. If you're in doubt about whether or not your kids are invited, they probably are not.
Oh. One more thing. If you found out that someone you know just got engaged, please don't assume you'll be invited to the wedding. Weddings are expensive affairs, and funds are limited-- this means that if you aren't invited, it's not that the bride and groom don't like you. They just don't like you enough. Just kidding. Seriously, though, don't take it personally-- I like to think of it as an honor when I'm invited, but I'm still happy for friends and colleagues and classmates when they get married and I'm not there to help them celebrate!
Love,
Karen
P.S. All this wedding invitation etiquette talk was prompted by my friend, I'll call her Bride. She is getting married in September and currently studying for the Bar. She's finally turned off her cell phone because she keeps getting calls about the wedding invitations, sent out a week or two ago. This is a rough rendition of the initial exchange between Mother of the Bride (MOB) and Woman (W) after W received Bride's invitation,which says on the response card that children are not permitted at the wedding venue (in this case, it' s liability issue):
W: Hi MOB, I just got Bride's invitation, and I noticed it says children are not included.
MOB: Yes.
W: I don’t understand what this means. My girls are 12 and 13.
MOB: Mmm. Hmm. What don’t you understand?
W: Well, the invitation says no children, but we don't really consider them children.
MOB: Hmm. Well, Bride and Groom haven't included any children under the age of 15 because the venue liability insurance won't permit it.
W: Well, okay.
Now, let's flash forward three days. W calls my friend, Bride. And repeats the exchange. All the while, my friend Bride is thinking: What do you mean you don't consider them children? What are they? Can they vote? Do you let them drive? Can they enter a contract legally? Do you let them gamble? Smoke? Drink? Last time I checked, 12 and 13 year olds were children!
Over-reaction? Maybe. She is studying for the bar. But there's a lesson in here-- don't keep harassing people until you get the answer you want. Seriously. Just be happy you were invited!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Marcie's First Brush Fire
Yeah, what a nice first, eh? In other parts of the country, people have first hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, thunderstorms. Here in Southern California we have brush fires and earthquakes. I'm not a big fan of either, of course. But I'm not much for tornadoes and hurricanes either.
Casey's first brush fire was in October 2003. It was huge. It burned for days. It took out entire neighborhoods and shut the city down. Casey was 9 months old. I was in my first semester of law school. No one left their homes without masks on, and even that was rare.
We voluntarily evacuated to Jason's parents house when the fire started blowing in our direction. No one told us to, we just did. I remember being amused by the items we loaded up on our car: laptops, photo albums, TIVO. We returned home that night, but the brightness of the fire shone out on neighborhood streets. And there was soot everywhere. I never felt afraid, just irritated by Nature's rage and interruption into my otherwise pretty serene world.
You can catch some photos of the devastation, along with the basic story here. Here's some more information about the conflagrations.
I'm sure Casey doesn't remember it, despite his amazing memory. But it's in his baby book.
And today, there was a brush fire near Jason's parent's house. There are several news stories on it, but this one pretty much explains what happened. Stupid arsonist. I was at school studying all day (shocking, I know-- and I'm still here at school now!), and the street leading to where Marcie and her grandma are was closed off by police all afternoon. It's been opened, and Marcie's grandpa told me she and Grandma are just fine. I got the impression they voluntarily evacuated, but I didn't even ask! Silly me. . .
What an eventful day for Marcie. As if she even knew it was going on . . .
Casey's first brush fire was in October 2003. It was huge. It burned for days. It took out entire neighborhoods and shut the city down. Casey was 9 months old. I was in my first semester of law school. No one left their homes without masks on, and even that was rare.
We voluntarily evacuated to Jason's parents house when the fire started blowing in our direction. No one told us to, we just did. I remember being amused by the items we loaded up on our car: laptops, photo albums, TIVO. We returned home that night, but the brightness of the fire shone out on neighborhood streets. And there was soot everywhere. I never felt afraid, just irritated by Nature's rage and interruption into my otherwise pretty serene world.
You can catch some photos of the devastation, along with the basic story here. Here's some more information about the conflagrations.
I'm sure Casey doesn't remember it, despite his amazing memory. But it's in his baby book.
And today, there was a brush fire near Jason's parent's house. There are several news stories on it, but this one pretty much explains what happened. Stupid arsonist. I was at school studying all day (shocking, I know-- and I'm still here at school now!), and the street leading to where Marcie and her grandma are was closed off by police all afternoon. It's been opened, and Marcie's grandpa told me she and Grandma are just fine. I got the impression they voluntarily evacuated, but I didn't even ask! Silly me. . .
What an eventful day for Marcie. As if she even knew it was going on . . .
Monday, July 09, 2007
How do you do it all?
Tonight as I was standing at the dryer folding clothes so I could switch over the wash, I was thinking about my cheering squad. No, I'm not talking about imaginary friends that cheer me on (though I wouldn't necessarily put that outside the realm of possibility). I'm talking about family and friends who say to others about me, "That Karen! I just don't know how she does it all!"
I suppose it either sounds impressive to work nearly full time and go to law school and have two small children (who actually know who you are!) at home-- or it sounds wildly insane. And the truth is probably somewhere in between. When people ask me how I do it all, I usually point out that Jason is incredibly involved-- a real partner to me. So he picks up the kids from school and gets them off to bed. And I point out that my in-laws are a huge support-- that the kids and Jason have a family meal most nights because Jason's mom feeds them all at her house. And I point out that I have understanding and flexible colleagues and an incredibly supportive boss.
And all that is true.
But as I stood at the dryer tonight, folding the clothes without even bothering to turn them right-side-out before doing so, I realized that my answer just isn't the full story. The truth is this:
I suppose it either sounds impressive to work nearly full time and go to law school and have two small children (who actually know who you are!) at home-- or it sounds wildly insane. And the truth is probably somewhere in between. When people ask me how I do it all, I usually point out that Jason is incredibly involved-- a real partner to me. So he picks up the kids from school and gets them off to bed. And I point out that my in-laws are a huge support-- that the kids and Jason have a family meal most nights because Jason's mom feeds them all at her house. And I point out that I have understanding and flexible colleagues and an incredibly supportive boss.
And all that is true.
But as I stood at the dryer tonight, folding the clothes without even bothering to turn them right-side-out before doing so, I realized that my answer just isn't the full story. The truth is this:
- I don't dust. Pretty much ever. Maybe once a year. And sometimes I con Casey into using the feather duster to "play" and dust at the same time.
- I don't worry if the socks aren't matched up-- they all go in the sock drawer. And I don't worry if clothes are folded inside out. I figure whoever took it off inside out and didn't take the time to unflip it can't be all that upset if I treat the item the same way (though honestly it's mostly my stuff that ends up inside out in the wash).
- If I'm not going to work, wrinkles don't matter on clothes. If the clothes are clean, I'm all good.
- I have an amazing ability to ignore clutter. When Jason recently cleaned out the closet, he found bill statements from four years ago (when I started law school). Now, in my defense, I pay things online-- but really, that's a lot of mail to store up in a closet, and it was probably a fire hazard.
- I don't mind pulling clean dishes out of the dishwasher to use instead of putting things away. Okay, I mind a little. But not enough to actually put the stuff away when life gets really busy.
- I have a really dirty car. Really. Dirty. Inside and out. I try to clean it out every couple weeks, but you'd never know it. Plus, I think I might be able to feed a small army with the amount of cheerios, pieces of chips, and crackers on the floor of my backseat.
Those are just a few of the ways I'm able to "skimp" so that I have time to do other, more fun things. Don't get the wrong idea. I do clean bathrooms with some regularity. I do vacuum. The laundry gets done every week. The sheets on the beds are clean. There is fresh food in the fridge, and I make breakfasts and lunches. But the truth is you really can't have everything in life. And really, if something's gotta give, why not let it be the dusting?
Caught Around Town
Do you know that part of People magazine where they show pictures of celebrities doing "normal" stuff-- like they've been "caught" being regular? Well, these two pictures of Marcie make me think of that:
And here is me looking dastardly tired (that's what happens when I don't wear make-up) with Marcie on her first Fourth of July:
And since I'm showing off Marcie, here she is experiencing her first fudgcicle (thanks to her dad)-- and yeah, I'm thinking that shirt is probably not long for this world . . .
And a photo of the men in my life:
And finally a picture of the kids playing in our back yard:
And here is me looking dastardly tired (that's what happens when I don't wear make-up) with Marcie on her first Fourth of July:
And since I'm showing off Marcie, here she is experiencing her first fudgcicle (thanks to her dad)-- and yeah, I'm thinking that shirt is probably not long for this world . . .
And a photo of the men in my life: 
And finally a picture of the kids playing in our back yard:
And that's probably a bit of sensory overload for you-- so that's it for the photos for tonight!Bread Thief
On Friday when I arrived home from studying, I entered the house letting the garage door slam behind me. I was expecting to hear the patter of feet come blustering down the hallway and the gaggle of "MOMMY'S HOME!" that usually accompany the feet. But no. No such noise.
I crept around the hallway corner to discover Casey, perched up on the arm of the sofa, completely engaged in the movie Hercules and Marcie sitting at their small table, with her back to the TV. In Marcie's arms was a bag of bread. My bread. And spread across the table were somewhere between seven and eleven slices of it. Including the heel. She had taken a bite out of each one. And not on the edge of the bread so that I might still be able to use the pieces to make myself sandwiches. Oh no. Bites out of the center. Almost like she folded it in half, took a small bite, and opened it back up to look at her work. She was digging around in the bag for another piece when I caught her eye. "Hi, Mommy!" she called out happily.
So I learned my lesson. Don't leave my bread on the kitchen table where she can reach it. And destroy it. I don't think Marcie is particular about bread-- and I don't think my bread is particularly tasty, either. I eat that Wonder Lite stuff. But the kids and Jason eat Miltons or Orowheat. So I imagine my bread (much lower in calories) must have tasted like cardboard to poor Marcie, though really she didn't seem to mind.
Then yesterday morning, I decided to go back to bed and sleep in for a while. I shoved Jason out from under the covers with a "gentle" nudge and asked if he would lay on the couch so I could get some rest. And I rolled back out of bed at around 8am when I heard Casey calling out loudly, "MARCIE, WHERE ARE YOU?" From a dead sleep, I bolted wide awake. There aren't really many hiding places for a toddler inside the house, and in the pit of my stomach I worried Marcie had wandered off. Though in retrospect, I don't know how she would have escaped-- she doesn't know how to open the slider, and the front door has a hotel latch that's hard for me to reach. Nonetheless, I raced from our bedroom to the family room.
Jason, too, groggily sat up on the couch. But he took one glance around the room and said, "Casey, she's right here." Sure enough, there was Marcie. Sitting happily at the kitchen table, hidden by the height of the table itself because she'd opted for a chair without a booster seat.
She giggled a little as I approached-- and there in her hands were a knife (gasp!) and a hamburger bun. She was attempted to cut herself pieces of the bun and she'd clearly done a pretty good job up to that point. As if I were talking down a criminal, I said, "Marcie, give Mommy the knife please. Gently." And she did.
And she held up the top of the hamburger bun and called out, "Bread, Mommy."
"Yes, I see, Marcie." I replied.
And that is the end of knives in our silverware drawer. I don't know how she reached into the drawer and got it out, but that won't be happening again.
Whenever I feel slightly exasperated by her ability to problem-solve, I can't help but also feel so proud. She's a girl after my own heart-- I was quite the trouble maker when I was a toddler, or so my mom tells me. Once I climbed up into the bathroom medicine cabinet, took out my mom's nail polish, unscrewed it, and tried to use it as eye liner. During another escape, I located my dad's deodorant-- the roll-on kind-- and licked the entire bottle. At least Marcie's actions aren't quite as gross. Well, not yet anyway.
I crept around the hallway corner to discover Casey, perched up on the arm of the sofa, completely engaged in the movie Hercules and Marcie sitting at their small table, with her back to the TV. In Marcie's arms was a bag of bread. My bread. And spread across the table were somewhere between seven and eleven slices of it. Including the heel. She had taken a bite out of each one. And not on the edge of the bread so that I might still be able to use the pieces to make myself sandwiches. Oh no. Bites out of the center. Almost like she folded it in half, took a small bite, and opened it back up to look at her work. She was digging around in the bag for another piece when I caught her eye. "Hi, Mommy!" she called out happily.
So I learned my lesson. Don't leave my bread on the kitchen table where she can reach it. And destroy it. I don't think Marcie is particular about bread-- and I don't think my bread is particularly tasty, either. I eat that Wonder Lite stuff. But the kids and Jason eat Miltons or Orowheat. So I imagine my bread (much lower in calories) must have tasted like cardboard to poor Marcie, though really she didn't seem to mind.
Then yesterday morning, I decided to go back to bed and sleep in for a while. I shoved Jason out from under the covers with a "gentle" nudge and asked if he would lay on the couch so I could get some rest. And I rolled back out of bed at around 8am when I heard Casey calling out loudly, "MARCIE, WHERE ARE YOU?" From a dead sleep, I bolted wide awake. There aren't really many hiding places for a toddler inside the house, and in the pit of my stomach I worried Marcie had wandered off. Though in retrospect, I don't know how she would have escaped-- she doesn't know how to open the slider, and the front door has a hotel latch that's hard for me to reach. Nonetheless, I raced from our bedroom to the family room.
Jason, too, groggily sat up on the couch. But he took one glance around the room and said, "Casey, she's right here." Sure enough, there was Marcie. Sitting happily at the kitchen table, hidden by the height of the table itself because she'd opted for a chair without a booster seat.
She giggled a little as I approached-- and there in her hands were a knife (gasp!) and a hamburger bun. She was attempted to cut herself pieces of the bun and she'd clearly done a pretty good job up to that point. As if I were talking down a criminal, I said, "Marcie, give Mommy the knife please. Gently." And she did.
And she held up the top of the hamburger bun and called out, "Bread, Mommy."
"Yes, I see, Marcie." I replied.
And that is the end of knives in our silverware drawer. I don't know how she reached into the drawer and got it out, but that won't be happening again.
Whenever I feel slightly exasperated by her ability to problem-solve, I can't help but also feel so proud. She's a girl after my own heart-- I was quite the trouble maker when I was a toddler, or so my mom tells me. Once I climbed up into the bathroom medicine cabinet, took out my mom's nail polish, unscrewed it, and tried to use it as eye liner. During another escape, I located my dad's deodorant-- the roll-on kind-- and licked the entire bottle. At least Marcie's actions aren't quite as gross. Well, not yet anyway.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
A Life More Enriched
This morning Casey was a real pain. I didn't tell him I thought he was being a pain (though I'm sure he sensed my irritation in my tone)-- because lately when I tell him he's being a pain he says, "I not pain. You a pain, Mommy." And that makes me laugh. Which is not the proper response to your child when he's being a pain.
This morning he was being a pain because he wanted to wear his new Cars shirt. The one we bought yesterday at Target. The one that's so big, it hangs down to his knees because the smallest size they had was a boys' small. The one he wore all day yesterday. And sweated in. And rolled around in the dirt in. That one. I told him he couldn't wear it because it was dirty and stinky. And I promised he could wear it tomorrow-- that I'd wash it tonight. But he wasn't having it-- he wanted to wear that shirt. So he told me, "I not talking to you, Mommy. I going to ask Daddy." Now, Daddy was still asleep-- with an hour of sleep to go still remaining on our typical schedule. But far be it from me to keep a boy away from his dad, so off Casey stomped to talk to Jason.
Jason dutifully climbed out of bed-- albeit groggily-- and followed Casey back to Casey's room. Casey explained (as best he could) that he wanted to wear his new Cars shirt. And I added, "the dirty one," for more complete explanation. Jason told him he couldn't wear it, but that we'd wash it and he could wear it tomorrow-- to pick out something different. Casey seemed to accept this. He grabbed the dirty shirt off the floor and race out the door and into the laundry room. We heard the dryer open and close (I didn't even know he knew how to open it). And he came back and announced it was all ready to be washed. Then he opened his shirt drawer and without further complaint selected a (different) Cars shirt and put it on.
Jason and I later chuckled in the kitchen about how funny it was that Casey really thought one of us would undermine the other.
But then, on my drive to school this morning, I started thinking about how difficult Casey had been when he first awoke-- and that led me to thinking about how well-behaved he was yesterday-- and how much fun we had.
Now, I'm the first to admit that kids can sometimes be, well, for lack of a better term, burdensome. They are whiny. They are needy. They are expensive-- and I'm not talking about the cost of adoption, here. So why bother having kids at all? I mean, especially people like us-- people who have gone really far out of the way to have kids. No accidents here. Our family has definitely been planned. The answer is really simple. Kids really do enrich our lives.
And even when I'm irritated by Casey's insistence in not doing what I've asked, I'm equally impressed by his stick-to-it-ness. I'm impressed by his attempt at problem-solving by asking his dad for help. I'm impressed at him having and expressing opinions-- however much I may not like them.
But that's not all-- I remember how much pure joy Casey and Marcie bring to my small corner of the world. In an otherwise kind of dreary summer (as much as I love school, studying for the Bar really has been no picnic), yesterday was this bright ray of sunshine. . .
It started really quite normally. We left home around 8am with the stroller-- Casey racing ahead of us on the sidewalk, and Marcie strapped in. The sun was already out, sunscreen was appropriately applied, and it was starting to heat up as we made our way to the local Starbucks. We chit-chatted along the way, Casey mostly pointing out the crows-- though Marcie helping with her "caw caw" noises, too.
At Starbucks, we each enjoyed a beverage-- and we took our time. Marcie apparently knows both the words "Starbucks" and the word "coffee" (thanks, Mom), despite the fact that we frequent neither with any real sense of routine. Marcie had been carrying our miniature flag, and Casey wanted a turn, so we decided to stop into Target on the way home to see if they had any (they didn't). Outside the Target, Casey asked Jason what the flag was for. Thinking out loud (trying to come up with a response), Jason's said, "What is the flag for . . ." and before he could finish, Casey cried out, "In de pants!" Jason and I looked at each other in surprise. "What a great answer," Jason commented, and I of course agreed-- Independence!-- much better than what I could have come up with! And heck-- I didn't even know Casey knew any four syllable words!
Even though they didn't have a flag, it didn't stop us from contributing to the economy; we splurged on some pajamas for Marcie and a couple t-shirts-- this is where Casey picked out his new, favorite shirt. Marcie insisted on a shirt just like Casey's, so we got her one, too. And we trekked on home. By then, it was much hotter, and Casey was tired, so we took turns pushing the stroller and carrying Casey on our shoulders (even though it's a double stroller, he sometimes refuses to ride in it).
At home, we played a bit with the kids. Casey called his birth family and got to talk to his brother and his sister and his cousin. He was absolutely gleeful during the conversation. He is so excited that he has a big brother and big sister. Around 11am, Casey got lunch started for the kids. We told them I was going to study, I kissed them good-bye, and I disappeared into the study, in hopes they wouldn't look there for me (they didn't). I studied while they napped.
And after nap time, the real fun began. We played a little in the backyard-- mainly because Marcie discovered the water table full of water and began splashing about. Then we went to our local Fourth of July celebration. In our city, we have a 100 year old steam engine, and on 4th of July, when you ride it, there is an Old Fashioned, staged shoot-out. Casey was terrified of the gunfire. He lept out of my arms and into Jason's. Marcie, on the other hand, couldn't crane her neck far enough to enjoy the show. (Hmm. One daredevil. One not so much. Wonder which one will be riding the roller coasters with me . . .)
When we got home, some friends of ours were there waiting, with their 2 year old. A bit later another couple and their 13 month old arrived (now walking!). And the kids played. And played. Well, with the help of the dads. They got filthy. Filthy! Now this is totally my fault. Our backyard is just a dirt yard at the moment. The trampoline really needs to be washed down. So between kicking the soccer ball, sliding down the slide onto the hard, dirt ground, and rolling around during baseball playing, Casey (and Marcie) got a little grimy. And so did their friend Lucas.
Not to worry, though. After dinner, we tossed the boys into the bathtub, where they dumped water on each others heads and eliminated the grime. They were so dirty, it actually left a ring of dirt in the tub. While Marcie was getting her bath, we let Kate (the 1 year old) chase the naked boys around the living room and play area until they put on their pajamas. Then, once the kids were in their pajamas, we danced to Lollipop and Rockin Robin. Boy, their friend Lucas sure does know some cool dance moves. Three bed time stories later, it was time to say good bye to our friends and put Casey and Marcie down for the night. We had initially planned to go see fireworks, but we were just too tired.
I don't think I've laughed and smiled so much since I started studying for this test. Every once in a while, I wonder what it must be like to be preparing for this exam without a supportive spouse or partner and without children-- to just live alone, to be experiencing it alone. On the one hand, I guess it might be nice to have nothing and no one else to worry about. To not have to try and figure out which days you'll make it home in time for bedtime kisses or (gasp) even a family meal. To not be awoken multiple times throughout the night because someone is scared or thirsty or has to go potty. To not have to make four breakfasts and two lunches each morning before you can leave. To not have six loads of laundry each week (at least!). You know, to just worry about yourself.
But then, on the other hand, I cannot imagine my life without my fabulous children (and Jason, of course-- that goes without saying, really). Especially right now. Because as much as I know I need to spend time studying, I know that it's my family that helps provide me balance. I may have totally disengaged with friends and extended family during the past six weeks or so while I've been intensely focused on the preparing for this exam, but I haven't disengaged from my kids. Not emotionally. And not mentally. They really are such a bright spot in my otherwise kind of drab world-- I am so very lucky to have a family, to have my family-- my kids really have given me a life more enriched.
This morning he was being a pain because he wanted to wear his new Cars shirt. The one we bought yesterday at Target. The one that's so big, it hangs down to his knees because the smallest size they had was a boys' small. The one he wore all day yesterday. And sweated in. And rolled around in the dirt in. That one. I told him he couldn't wear it because it was dirty and stinky. And I promised he could wear it tomorrow-- that I'd wash it tonight. But he wasn't having it-- he wanted to wear that shirt. So he told me, "I not talking to you, Mommy. I going to ask Daddy." Now, Daddy was still asleep-- with an hour of sleep to go still remaining on our typical schedule. But far be it from me to keep a boy away from his dad, so off Casey stomped to talk to Jason.
Jason dutifully climbed out of bed-- albeit groggily-- and followed Casey back to Casey's room. Casey explained (as best he could) that he wanted to wear his new Cars shirt. And I added, "the dirty one," for more complete explanation. Jason told him he couldn't wear it, but that we'd wash it and he could wear it tomorrow-- to pick out something different. Casey seemed to accept this. He grabbed the dirty shirt off the floor and race out the door and into the laundry room. We heard the dryer open and close (I didn't even know he knew how to open it). And he came back and announced it was all ready to be washed. Then he opened his shirt drawer and without further complaint selected a (different) Cars shirt and put it on.
Jason and I later chuckled in the kitchen about how funny it was that Casey really thought one of us would undermine the other.
But then, on my drive to school this morning, I started thinking about how difficult Casey had been when he first awoke-- and that led me to thinking about how well-behaved he was yesterday-- and how much fun we had.
Now, I'm the first to admit that kids can sometimes be, well, for lack of a better term, burdensome. They are whiny. They are needy. They are expensive-- and I'm not talking about the cost of adoption, here. So why bother having kids at all? I mean, especially people like us-- people who have gone really far out of the way to have kids. No accidents here. Our family has definitely been planned. The answer is really simple. Kids really do enrich our lives.
And even when I'm irritated by Casey's insistence in not doing what I've asked, I'm equally impressed by his stick-to-it-ness. I'm impressed by his attempt at problem-solving by asking his dad for help. I'm impressed at him having and expressing opinions-- however much I may not like them.
But that's not all-- I remember how much pure joy Casey and Marcie bring to my small corner of the world. In an otherwise kind of dreary summer (as much as I love school, studying for the Bar really has been no picnic), yesterday was this bright ray of sunshine. . .
It started really quite normally. We left home around 8am with the stroller-- Casey racing ahead of us on the sidewalk, and Marcie strapped in. The sun was already out, sunscreen was appropriately applied, and it was starting to heat up as we made our way to the local Starbucks. We chit-chatted along the way, Casey mostly pointing out the crows-- though Marcie helping with her "caw caw" noises, too.
At Starbucks, we each enjoyed a beverage-- and we took our time. Marcie apparently knows both the words "Starbucks" and the word "coffee" (thanks, Mom), despite the fact that we frequent neither with any real sense of routine. Marcie had been carrying our miniature flag, and Casey wanted a turn, so we decided to stop into Target on the way home to see if they had any (they didn't). Outside the Target, Casey asked Jason what the flag was for. Thinking out loud (trying to come up with a response), Jason's said, "What is the flag for . . ." and before he could finish, Casey cried out, "In de pants!" Jason and I looked at each other in surprise. "What a great answer," Jason commented, and I of course agreed-- Independence!-- much better than what I could have come up with! And heck-- I didn't even know Casey knew any four syllable words!
Even though they didn't have a flag, it didn't stop us from contributing to the economy; we splurged on some pajamas for Marcie and a couple t-shirts-- this is where Casey picked out his new, favorite shirt. Marcie insisted on a shirt just like Casey's, so we got her one, too. And we trekked on home. By then, it was much hotter, and Casey was tired, so we took turns pushing the stroller and carrying Casey on our shoulders (even though it's a double stroller, he sometimes refuses to ride in it).
At home, we played a bit with the kids. Casey called his birth family and got to talk to his brother and his sister and his cousin. He was absolutely gleeful during the conversation. He is so excited that he has a big brother and big sister. Around 11am, Casey got lunch started for the kids. We told them I was going to study, I kissed them good-bye, and I disappeared into the study, in hopes they wouldn't look there for me (they didn't). I studied while they napped.
And after nap time, the real fun began. We played a little in the backyard-- mainly because Marcie discovered the water table full of water and began splashing about. Then we went to our local Fourth of July celebration. In our city, we have a 100 year old steam engine, and on 4th of July, when you ride it, there is an Old Fashioned, staged shoot-out. Casey was terrified of the gunfire. He lept out of my arms and into Jason's. Marcie, on the other hand, couldn't crane her neck far enough to enjoy the show. (Hmm. One daredevil. One not so much. Wonder which one will be riding the roller coasters with me . . .)
When we got home, some friends of ours were there waiting, with their 2 year old. A bit later another couple and their 13 month old arrived (now walking!). And the kids played. And played. Well, with the help of the dads. They got filthy. Filthy! Now this is totally my fault. Our backyard is just a dirt yard at the moment. The trampoline really needs to be washed down. So between kicking the soccer ball, sliding down the slide onto the hard, dirt ground, and rolling around during baseball playing, Casey (and Marcie) got a little grimy. And so did their friend Lucas.
Not to worry, though. After dinner, we tossed the boys into the bathtub, where they dumped water on each others heads and eliminated the grime. They were so dirty, it actually left a ring of dirt in the tub. While Marcie was getting her bath, we let Kate (the 1 year old) chase the naked boys around the living room and play area until they put on their pajamas. Then, once the kids were in their pajamas, we danced to Lollipop and Rockin Robin. Boy, their friend Lucas sure does know some cool dance moves. Three bed time stories later, it was time to say good bye to our friends and put Casey and Marcie down for the night. We had initially planned to go see fireworks, but we were just too tired.
I don't think I've laughed and smiled so much since I started studying for this test. Every once in a while, I wonder what it must be like to be preparing for this exam without a supportive spouse or partner and without children-- to just live alone, to be experiencing it alone. On the one hand, I guess it might be nice to have nothing and no one else to worry about. To not have to try and figure out which days you'll make it home in time for bedtime kisses or (gasp) even a family meal. To not be awoken multiple times throughout the night because someone is scared or thirsty or has to go potty. To not have to make four breakfasts and two lunches each morning before you can leave. To not have six loads of laundry each week (at least!). You know, to just worry about yourself.
But then, on the other hand, I cannot imagine my life without my fabulous children (and Jason, of course-- that goes without saying, really). Especially right now. Because as much as I know I need to spend time studying, I know that it's my family that helps provide me balance. I may have totally disengaged with friends and extended family during the past six weeks or so while I've been intensely focused on the preparing for this exam, but I haven't disengaged from my kids. Not emotionally. And not mentally. They really are such a bright spot in my otherwise kind of drab world-- I am so very lucky to have a family, to have my family-- my kids really have given me a life more enriched.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Hoofing it to China
I'm thinking it'll be a while before we make it back to China for B.S. #3, as I call her. I know BS isn't the nicest name in the world, but it works for me for now. I know "she" may really be a "he," but in Chinese they don't even have pronouns, so I'm not going to worry about that, either.
I'm sitting here in the library, taking a very short break in between writing out practice essay exams (each essay takes an hour to complete, more or less). And I have been contemplating lately how lazy I feel this summer. Not because I haven't been mentally busy-- oh my, I have. My brain is so full, I'm seriously surprised I remember my own name. But I've been feeling antsy for exercise lately.
When Marcie first came home, I had a lot of time with her, and she and I walked at least 3 days a week, around 45 minutes up and around the hills of our area each time. I'm sure it wasn't as cardiovascularly challenging as all the running I'd been doing prior to meeting Marcie in person, but it was exercise-- and that, for me, is the key to keeping the stress low and the weight off. So when I went back to work and stopped exercising with Marcie, I just completely stopped exercising. Not good. Not good at all. I'm not back in my "fat clothes" or anything, but I'm not in my fun clothes for the time being either.
So I'm getting back on the exercise horse. It's hard with kids. Marcie weighs around 30 pounds and pushing her in a stroller is work on a flat surface, forget the hills in my neighborhood! Add Casey's 37 pounds to the double stroller and the 13 pounds of the stroller itself and I'm pushing almost 80% of my own total weight. This is just too difficult. So I'm going to have to be creative. But darnit if I can't fit into my "fun" clothes when I return to work in August after the bar.
Anyway, to help me on my goal of exercise-- which I believe is good for the body and for the mind-- I'm going to hoof it to China. Seriously.
I looked it up. From San Diego to Guangzhou is 7,348 miles (direct). I don't know where we'll find BS in China, but I know we'll eventually land in Guangzhou for the visa, so I figure that's a safe place to aim for as a goal. And even though 7,348 miles is pretty far, I've probably got at least 3 years in which to do it. That distance over three years works out roughly to 204 miles each month. Hmm. That's 51 miles a week. Maybe I need to re-think this. . . that's probably not a particularly realistic goal. (Good thing we'll actually be flying there and not walking!) But maybe you can help. Maybe if I can get some people to walk with me (figuratively, mind you), we can collectively make it to China-- heck, maybe we can make it to China and BACK. And let's say we won't just count distance we walk or run-- but let's throw in biking and stairmastering and crosstraining, too. Think we can do it?
Anyone up for the challenge?
I'm sitting here in the library, taking a very short break in between writing out practice essay exams (each essay takes an hour to complete, more or less). And I have been contemplating lately how lazy I feel this summer. Not because I haven't been mentally busy-- oh my, I have. My brain is so full, I'm seriously surprised I remember my own name. But I've been feeling antsy for exercise lately.
When Marcie first came home, I had a lot of time with her, and she and I walked at least 3 days a week, around 45 minutes up and around the hills of our area each time. I'm sure it wasn't as cardiovascularly challenging as all the running I'd been doing prior to meeting Marcie in person, but it was exercise-- and that, for me, is the key to keeping the stress low and the weight off. So when I went back to work and stopped exercising with Marcie, I just completely stopped exercising. Not good. Not good at all. I'm not back in my "fat clothes" or anything, but I'm not in my fun clothes for the time being either.
So I'm getting back on the exercise horse. It's hard with kids. Marcie weighs around 30 pounds and pushing her in a stroller is work on a flat surface, forget the hills in my neighborhood! Add Casey's 37 pounds to the double stroller and the 13 pounds of the stroller itself and I'm pushing almost 80% of my own total weight. This is just too difficult. So I'm going to have to be creative. But darnit if I can't fit into my "fun" clothes when I return to work in August after the bar.
Anyway, to help me on my goal of exercise-- which I believe is good for the body and for the mind-- I'm going to hoof it to China. Seriously.
I looked it up. From San Diego to Guangzhou is 7,348 miles (direct). I don't know where we'll find BS in China, but I know we'll eventually land in Guangzhou for the visa, so I figure that's a safe place to aim for as a goal. And even though 7,348 miles is pretty far, I've probably got at least 3 years in which to do it. That distance over three years works out roughly to 204 miles each month. Hmm. That's 51 miles a week. Maybe I need to re-think this. . . that's probably not a particularly realistic goal. (Good thing we'll actually be flying there and not walking!) But maybe you can help. Maybe if I can get some people to walk with me (figuratively, mind you), we can collectively make it to China-- heck, maybe we can make it to China and BACK. And let's say we won't just count distance we walk or run-- but let's throw in biking and stairmastering and crosstraining, too. Think we can do it?
Anyone up for the challenge?
(Re)adoption
When we adopted Casey, we fost-adopted him. That is, we had custody of him until the right legal paperwork was completed clearing us for finalization. He was born January 15th. His adoption was finalized September 19th.
With Marcie, her adoption was technically final in China. But we've opted to re-adopt her so we she can have a California birth certificate.
So yesterday I went by the courthouse to drop off the paperwork. But I left her Chinese certificate of abandonment, birth certificate, and adoption registration stuff at home. So today I returned with proper documentation.
We are scheduled to finalize our adoption under California law on Thursday, July 19th.
That's exactly 3 1/2 years after Casey's adoption was finalized. Which is a little weird because Casey was also 3 1/2 years old when we brought Marcie home. Maybe that's not weird. I don't know. . .
With Marcie, her adoption was technically final in China. But we've opted to re-adopt her so we she can have a California birth certificate.
So yesterday I went by the courthouse to drop off the paperwork. But I left her Chinese certificate of abandonment, birth certificate, and adoption registration stuff at home. So today I returned with proper documentation.
We are scheduled to finalize our adoption under California law on Thursday, July 19th.
That's exactly 3 1/2 years after Casey's adoption was finalized. Which is a little weird because Casey was also 3 1/2 years old when we brought Marcie home. Maybe that's not weird. I don't know. . .
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
My, What a Difference a Year Makes, Part II
One year ago today, I saw Marcie's face for the first time. It was in an e-mail from our agency, CCAI. It was her "mug shot." And I fell in love. Well, I fell in love before I saw the picture. But the photo sure didn't hurt.
I still remember what I was wearing when I got the call-- gray pants, a purple sweater and black heels. I was settling in to my office, trying to figure out where I'd set up the video camera when my cell phone rang. It wasn't even 8:30am yet, and our agency was calling to tell us all about Yang Fu Ji.
I remember the Recruitment Coordinator Chali kindly printing color copies of Marcie's picture on photo paper for me so I could put up her photo next to Casey's in my office.
I remember racing through the firm, stopping in each office doorway to share the picture of my new daughter. (In retrospect, I must have seemed a little crazed to these people who hadn't even known me for a month yet.)
Marcie didn't have an American name yet. And we didn't name her June 27th, either. We narrowed it down to two choices a year ago today. (Obviously Marcie was one of them.)
A year ago today, I worried about how much air fare would cost. If we would get to see the Great Wall. How much Marcie would weigh by the time we met her.
Yeah. I remember what a big deal June 27, 2006 was to me. But in some ways I feel like I remember it from outside myself. Like I was watching it all happen to me . . . because I barely remember what life was like before Marcie joined our family.
And, my, look what a difference a year has made to her. Below left is Marcie's referral photo. Below right was taken almost exactly a year later. Yeah. A year makes a BIG difference . . .
I still remember what I was wearing when I got the call-- gray pants, a purple sweater and black heels. I was settling in to my office, trying to figure out where I'd set up the video camera when my cell phone rang. It wasn't even 8:30am yet, and our agency was calling to tell us all about Yang Fu Ji.
I remember the Recruitment Coordinator Chali kindly printing color copies of Marcie's picture on photo paper for me so I could put up her photo next to Casey's in my office.
I remember racing through the firm, stopping in each office doorway to share the picture of my new daughter. (In retrospect, I must have seemed a little crazed to these people who hadn't even known me for a month yet.)
Marcie didn't have an American name yet. And we didn't name her June 27th, either. We narrowed it down to two choices a year ago today. (Obviously Marcie was one of them.)
A year ago today, I worried about how much air fare would cost. If we would get to see the Great Wall. How much Marcie would weigh by the time we met her.
Yeah. I remember what a big deal June 27, 2006 was to me. But in some ways I feel like I remember it from outside myself. Like I was watching it all happen to me . . . because I barely remember what life was like before Marcie joined our family.
And, my, look what a difference a year has made to her. Below left is Marcie's referral photo. Below right was taken almost exactly a year later. Yeah. A year makes a BIG difference . . .
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
B.S. #3 The Paperchase & FAQs
So we have decided to pursue an adoption from China again. For B.S. #3 (That's Baby S. #3, although really Casey and Marcie aren't so much babies anymore). I was obsessing about it a while back, in May. And then I got sidetracked studying. Well, not really. Adoption's been on my mind-- I just haven't had much time to write about it. But now is the time I answer your burning questions:
1. Why China?
We kicked it around quite a bit back in May, as you know if you read regularly. I really struggled with it. I felt kind of strongly that I wanted to return to Asia because I want to be able to maintain some sort of connection to my children's roots. We already have two continents covered, and adding a third seemed a bit daunting to me (though truth be told, if things don't work out with China for us, we'll be making a bee-line to Ethiopia!).
Here's what it came down to for us. I did a boatload of research on Taiwan adoptions. They are private adoptions. We'd hire a US agency to coordinate with a nursery in Taiwan. We did select an agency-- the one agency we received so much positive feedback about, I felt very comfortable with them. I received a lot of unsolicited recommendations, and that's always a good sign. Their Taiwan program coordinator was amazingly patient, personable, and responsive. If you're contemplating Taiwan, you might look into FCA. They work with Cathwel in Taiwan. The thing is that the wait was going to be 18 months (average) until match-- and stretching. Plus another 6 months or so while the paperwork moved through the courts. And that's in addition to the homestudy. So basically we're looking at about 2 years from time of turning in paperwork. I was okay with the wait (there are several other agencies that have shorter waits, but many are new or I got very mixed reviews or they were terrible at follow-up). But then I started thinking-- if we're going to wait 2 years anyway, why not go back to China? With an agency I love, love, love? Plus, Taiwan was looking like it was going to cost substantially more (I estimated in the $10,000 range more), and with that extra money, we could bring the kids with us to China-- which might be nice (depending on their ages and temperaments at the time we travel). Given the risks involved in the Taiwan adoptions, the length of the wait, the additional costs, and the unknowns, we opted for China again.
2. What about the new restrictions? Do you qualify?
Yeah. We qualify. If something weird happens when we're in the review room, we'll have a valid international homestudy, we'll eat the agency cost, and we'll head for Ethiopia. Seriously.
3. Who are you using for the adoption?
We've returned to CCAI as our agency and Adoption Options as our homestudy agency. One of the reasons I was leaning against a California-based Taiwan agency is because they didn't work with Adoption Options, and I have had such a positive experience with them that I just didn't want to start a whole new homestudy process. Returning to agencies that have worked with us means they have a lot of our information and paperwork on file already, which makes our lives a lot easier.
4. Why now? Don't you think you should wait until after the Bar Exam?
Actually, making a decision is a huge relief. And perhaps we should wait until after July to start the paperwork, but with estimates placing the wait for a child from China estimated to stretch to 3 years, we know that getting paperwork done sooner rather than later makes sense. So we're taking it slowly, step by step, piece by piece. And when all the paperwork is together, we'll mail it in.
5. When do you think you'll be finished with "the paperchase"? What is the "paperchase" anyway?
Paperchasing is adoption lingo for gathering all the paperwork you need in your dossier. The dossier is the document that gets translated and sent to the China Center for Adoption Affairs, where they comb through your information and approve you as a prospective adoptive family. It includes birth certificates, marriage certificate, criminal clearance letters, proof of employment, proof of medical insurance, medial reports, a homestudy (which has a whole additional host of documents), a financial statement, and an adoption petition-- that's the brunt of it. To complete the dossier, though, not only do we have to collect all the right forms, but the forms have to go through a series of notarizations, certifications, and authentications to prove we haven't forged them or obtained them fraudulently. In addition to these documents, the homestudy is sent to USCIS (US Center for Immigration Services? I have no idea what it stands for; I'm totally making it up)-- anyway, they review the homestudy to approve us to bring home an orphan from a foreign country and they essentially pre-approve a visa for the child. This form/permission is the coveted 1-171H. And once that's in your hands, you can send everything off for certifications and authentications.
We are hoping to have our homestudy finished in August. We are hoping to have our paperwork all completed in September for shipment to our agency in October. Some of that will depend on whether we do all the notarizing, certifying, and authenticating ourselves, or if we have our agency do it for us. This process involves getting each document notarized. Then having our County Clerk certify the notary signature. Then having the Secretary of State in the local office certify the County Clerk signature (which is certifying the notary signature). Then we send all of that to the appropriate Chinese Consulate, which authenticates the Secretary of State signature (which is certifying the county clerk signature, which is certifying the notary signature). As you might imagine, that's rather time consuming.
6. Do you want a boy or a girl?
Yes. We want a boy or a girl. Or maybe we'll be brave and even request twins (which we'd never get, seeing as how we already have two kiddos). We go back and forth on this. We may request a boy. But even if we do, we'll make it clear we would be happy with a girl, too. We did not request a gender last time; we just requested a child "as young as possible." In the end, gender just isn't that important to us. On the one hand, I'd love to have another boy. On the other hand, I'd love to have another girl. Especially because Marcie is the only girl out of 7 grandkids. (Anyone else in the H. or S. families want to work on that for us? You know, ensure Marcie have a female playmate. . . we'd be cool with that!)
7. How old will the baby be?
We don't know. We qualify for a child ages 0-12 months old. And so that's what we will request.
8. Will the baby be from the same orphanage as Marcie?
Again, we don't know. We will be requesting a child from Yunyang Chengxiang Social Welfare Institute, which is where Marcie is from. We will be requesting a child from Chongqing Municipality, also where Marcie is from. We don't mind getting a child from anywhere in China, though. Going somewhere new would be a nice adventure. Returning to Chongqing would be nice, too-- we'd know what to expect, and it makes "returning to roots" much easier. But we're not that picky. We'll request these things, but I'm confident we'll end up with the child who is meant to be ours, no matter what part of China the child is from.
9. When will you meet the baby?
As I explained before, we're expecting the wait to stretch to two or three years. That puts us in China some time in 2010 or 2011. That's still awfully far away, which is why we're starting the process now. Marcie will be at least 5 by then. Casey will be 8. That's a bigger age spread than I'd ever planned. On the other hand, Jason will be home full time by then, and it's just more time to pay off debts and put away money. With five of us in our home, we'll be considering a home addition by the time 2011 rolls around, I think. If we can afford it. (Ah, to dream!)
10. Will this be "it"?
I don't know. We always planned to have at least three children. I can't say we'll close our hearts to additional family members after that. I can't say we'll seek another adoption actively, either. Let's see how things go with BS #3 and we can move forward from there.
11. What's your timeline so far?
I am keeping track of a timeline, which I'll be adding to the right margin eventually. Like I said, we're on schedule for now!
Have a question I didn't answer? E-mail me and I'll give you a response!
1. Why China?
We kicked it around quite a bit back in May, as you know if you read regularly. I really struggled with it. I felt kind of strongly that I wanted to return to Asia because I want to be able to maintain some sort of connection to my children's roots. We already have two continents covered, and adding a third seemed a bit daunting to me (though truth be told, if things don't work out with China for us, we'll be making a bee-line to Ethiopia!).
Here's what it came down to for us. I did a boatload of research on Taiwan adoptions. They are private adoptions. We'd hire a US agency to coordinate with a nursery in Taiwan. We did select an agency-- the one agency we received so much positive feedback about, I felt very comfortable with them. I received a lot of unsolicited recommendations, and that's always a good sign. Their Taiwan program coordinator was amazingly patient, personable, and responsive. If you're contemplating Taiwan, you might look into FCA. They work with Cathwel in Taiwan. The thing is that the wait was going to be 18 months (average) until match-- and stretching. Plus another 6 months or so while the paperwork moved through the courts. And that's in addition to the homestudy. So basically we're looking at about 2 years from time of turning in paperwork. I was okay with the wait (there are several other agencies that have shorter waits, but many are new or I got very mixed reviews or they were terrible at follow-up). But then I started thinking-- if we're going to wait 2 years anyway, why not go back to China? With an agency I love, love, love? Plus, Taiwan was looking like it was going to cost substantially more (I estimated in the $10,000 range more), and with that extra money, we could bring the kids with us to China-- which might be nice (depending on their ages and temperaments at the time we travel). Given the risks involved in the Taiwan adoptions, the length of the wait, the additional costs, and the unknowns, we opted for China again.
2. What about the new restrictions? Do you qualify?
Yeah. We qualify. If something weird happens when we're in the review room, we'll have a valid international homestudy, we'll eat the agency cost, and we'll head for Ethiopia. Seriously.
3. Who are you using for the adoption?
We've returned to CCAI as our agency and Adoption Options as our homestudy agency. One of the reasons I was leaning against a California-based Taiwan agency is because they didn't work with Adoption Options, and I have had such a positive experience with them that I just didn't want to start a whole new homestudy process. Returning to agencies that have worked with us means they have a lot of our information and paperwork on file already, which makes our lives a lot easier.
4. Why now? Don't you think you should wait until after the Bar Exam?
Actually, making a decision is a huge relief. And perhaps we should wait until after July to start the paperwork, but with estimates placing the wait for a child from China estimated to stretch to 3 years, we know that getting paperwork done sooner rather than later makes sense. So we're taking it slowly, step by step, piece by piece. And when all the paperwork is together, we'll mail it in.
5. When do you think you'll be finished with "the paperchase"? What is the "paperchase" anyway?
Paperchasing is adoption lingo for gathering all the paperwork you need in your dossier. The dossier is the document that gets translated and sent to the China Center for Adoption Affairs, where they comb through your information and approve you as a prospective adoptive family. It includes birth certificates, marriage certificate, criminal clearance letters, proof of employment, proof of medical insurance, medial reports, a homestudy (which has a whole additional host of documents), a financial statement, and an adoption petition-- that's the brunt of it. To complete the dossier, though, not only do we have to collect all the right forms, but the forms have to go through a series of notarizations, certifications, and authentications to prove we haven't forged them or obtained them fraudulently. In addition to these documents, the homestudy is sent to USCIS (US Center for Immigration Services? I have no idea what it stands for; I'm totally making it up)-- anyway, they review the homestudy to approve us to bring home an orphan from a foreign country and they essentially pre-approve a visa for the child. This form/permission is the coveted 1-171H. And once that's in your hands, you can send everything off for certifications and authentications.
We are hoping to have our homestudy finished in August. We are hoping to have our paperwork all completed in September for shipment to our agency in October. Some of that will depend on whether we do all the notarizing, certifying, and authenticating ourselves, or if we have our agency do it for us. This process involves getting each document notarized. Then having our County Clerk certify the notary signature. Then having the Secretary of State in the local office certify the County Clerk signature (which is certifying the notary signature). Then we send all of that to the appropriate Chinese Consulate, which authenticates the Secretary of State signature (which is certifying the county clerk signature, which is certifying the notary signature). As you might imagine, that's rather time consuming.
6. Do you want a boy or a girl?
Yes. We want a boy or a girl. Or maybe we'll be brave and even request twins (which we'd never get, seeing as how we already have two kiddos). We go back and forth on this. We may request a boy. But even if we do, we'll make it clear we would be happy with a girl, too. We did not request a gender last time; we just requested a child "as young as possible." In the end, gender just isn't that important to us. On the one hand, I'd love to have another boy. On the other hand, I'd love to have another girl. Especially because Marcie is the only girl out of 7 grandkids. (Anyone else in the H. or S. families want to work on that for us? You know, ensure Marcie have a female playmate. . . we'd be cool with that!)
7. How old will the baby be?
We don't know. We qualify for a child ages 0-12 months old. And so that's what we will request.
8. Will the baby be from the same orphanage as Marcie?
Again, we don't know. We will be requesting a child from Yunyang Chengxiang Social Welfare Institute, which is where Marcie is from. We will be requesting a child from Chongqing Municipality, also where Marcie is from. We don't mind getting a child from anywhere in China, though. Going somewhere new would be a nice adventure. Returning to Chongqing would be nice, too-- we'd know what to expect, and it makes "returning to roots" much easier. But we're not that picky. We'll request these things, but I'm confident we'll end up with the child who is meant to be ours, no matter what part of China the child is from.
9. When will you meet the baby?
As I explained before, we're expecting the wait to stretch to two or three years. That puts us in China some time in 2010 or 2011. That's still awfully far away, which is why we're starting the process now. Marcie will be at least 5 by then. Casey will be 8. That's a bigger age spread than I'd ever planned. On the other hand, Jason will be home full time by then, and it's just more time to pay off debts and put away money. With five of us in our home, we'll be considering a home addition by the time 2011 rolls around, I think. If we can afford it. (Ah, to dream!)
10. Will this be "it"?
I don't know. We always planned to have at least three children. I can't say we'll close our hearts to additional family members after that. I can't say we'll seek another adoption actively, either. Let's see how things go with BS #3 and we can move forward from there.
11. What's your timeline so far?
I am keeping track of a timeline, which I'll be adding to the right margin eventually. Like I said, we're on schedule for now!
Have a question I didn't answer? E-mail me and I'll give you a response!
My, What a Difference a Year Makes, Part I
A year ago today we learned that the information about our soon-to-be daughter was being feverishly translated by our agency in Colorado. We learned that we would be getting all the details the following day.
A year ago today I was running between 14 and 18 miles a week. I was in the midst of training for the America's Finest City Half Marathon (which I didn't end up running).
A year ago today I was spending my days researching interesting legal issues, learning about "big firm life," and commuting to a high rise in downtown San Diego.
A year ago today my dog died. I can't believe it's been a whole year. Casey still asks about him-- seeks confirmation that Chuffy really died. He did.
A year ago today I still had another year of law school left to complete.
Today, I will spend between 6 and 8 hours in the law school library, cramming as much information about California law as I can in preparation for the bar exam.
Today I ate lunch with my sister, who is getting married in a year. I haven't seen her since Christmas time when she got engaged.
Today I woke up at 3am and again at 6:09am. The first time I was in my own bed. The second time I was in Marcie's bed. Marcie didn't even have a bed in our house a year ago.
Today Casey told me he didn't want to put on socks because he was playing Thomas and that if he couldn't watch TV this morning, he wanted his big brother and big sister and Uncle Jason and Aunt Stephanie and Uncle Tram (who is really Aunt Tram) and Uncle Bryan and Other Grandma. . . anyone but Mommy. He also told me he was mad at me, and later that he wasn't mad at me anymore. He couldn't say any of those things a year ago.
Today Marcie picked out what shoes she wanted to wear, told me what she wanted for breakfast, blew Jason kisses bye-bye, and gave Grandma a great big hug when we got to her house. A year ago, there were no sweet kisses and no warm hugs. Just a photo of Marcie sitting in a pile of papers with her Chinese name attached.
A year ago today I was running between 14 and 18 miles a week. I was in the midst of training for the America's Finest City Half Marathon (which I didn't end up running).
A year ago today I was spending my days researching interesting legal issues, learning about "big firm life," and commuting to a high rise in downtown San Diego.
A year ago today my dog died. I can't believe it's been a whole year. Casey still asks about him-- seeks confirmation that Chuffy really died. He did.
A year ago today I still had another year of law school left to complete.
My, what a difference a year makes. . .
Today, I will spend between 6 and 8 hours in the law school library, cramming as much information about California law as I can in preparation for the bar exam.
Today I ate lunch with my sister, who is getting married in a year. I haven't seen her since Christmas time when she got engaged.
Today I woke up at 3am and again at 6:09am. The first time I was in my own bed. The second time I was in Marcie's bed. Marcie didn't even have a bed in our house a year ago.
Today Casey told me he didn't want to put on socks because he was playing Thomas and that if he couldn't watch TV this morning, he wanted his big brother and big sister and Uncle Jason and Aunt Stephanie and Uncle Tram (who is really Aunt Tram) and Uncle Bryan and Other Grandma. . . anyone but Mommy. He also told me he was mad at me, and later that he wasn't mad at me anymore. He couldn't say any of those things a year ago.
Today Marcie picked out what shoes she wanted to wear, told me what she wanted for breakfast, blew Jason kisses bye-bye, and gave Grandma a great big hug when we got to her house. A year ago, there were no sweet kisses and no warm hugs. Just a photo of Marcie sitting in a pile of papers with her Chinese name attached.
My, what a difference a year makes . . .
Sunday, June 24, 2007
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