Our profiles are posted again on the adoption agency's websites. When our profiles originally went live , I remember a sense of anticipation, of imminent success, and the excitement that came with taking such a big step. Today, seeing them posted again makes me feel tired and worn out. It feels like we're back to Square One. When we first decided to adopt, we spent lots of time answering questions, explaining the process to friends and family. Now, we're explaining what happened and where we go from here. Returning from the gym this morning, I was standing outside and our neighbor across the street stepped outside and called over, "Hi Chris! You guys must be getting so excited!" I expect that this will continue to happen as we see friends and colleagues over the coming weeks who might not have heard the news. They ask because they care and they're excited for us and I have to answer them because they're grieving a bit for us now, too. We are part o...
"I DON'T WANT YOU!" my three and a half year-old daughter roars, fists clenched at her sides, body rigid, tears and snot coating her face. "I DON'T WANT YOU!" she roars again mid-meltdown then jumps up and down screaming at the top of her lungs. I hardly recognize this enraged little person. 95% of the time my kid is joyful, happy, hilarious, and extremely kind. But that other 5% of the time. Meltdowns. Spectacular, epic, blow-the-roof-off meltdowns. Filled with rage. In the midst of these spectacular epic meltdowns my normally super affectionate, loving, huggy girl directs all of her rage at me. "What can I do for you?" I ask her in my calmest voice. "What can I do for you?" "NOTHING! GET AWAY FROM ME!" she shrieks, body still rigid, fists still clenched and eyes now closed as if the very sight of me is just too much to bear. She rejects my attempts to comfort her. She rejects me with every fiber of her...
We're in the kitchen this evening taking care of a little cleaning and prepping of dinner. Chris is washing the few dirty dishes that remain from the weekend. I am holding some lettuce leaves waiting for the sink to become available so that I can wash them for our salad. Our conversation: ME: [looking at the Romaine lettuce leaves in my hands] You know my favorite author - Barbara Pym. CHRIS: Yyyeeessss ? ME: Well, I love it how in so many of her novels these very proper English women of the 1940s lament the fact that they just can't properly "dress a lettuce." [the sink becomes available and I wash the lettuce leaves] Or how some of her English lady characters whisper nastily about some other English lady, "Well, SHE doesn't even know how to properly dress a lettuce!" CHRIS: [chuckles then pauses] How DO you properly "dress a lettuce"? ME: [making salad and about to answer, but cut off by Chris still musing aloud on the proper way...
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