Yesterday marked our fifth Fourth of July as a family, and the fourth anniversary of Beckett’s homecoming. As always, we were appreciative of the country wide fireworks in his honor.

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Thomas, Dillon’s in country director, explains why programs like these are important.

If you are feeling charitable, please consider a gift.

Four years ago today, we finally heard his laugh.

Four years ago today, we took this photo.

Four years ago today, a tiny little man officially made this guy a Dad.

Four years ago today, I finally took a breath and let myself believe he was real.

Four years ago today .

Four years.

Four.

1. Locate book for book club that I was just invited to join so that I can pretend to have time to read it when I don’t in order to legitimately show up for book club and consume lots of wine and snacks.
2. Desperately try to remember to call plumber about leaking drain for washing machine that threatens to flood kitchen if used.
3. Refer to item two and decide to drop off laundry at the cleaners before it completely overtakes the house. Vow to call plumber TODAY.
4. Continue to obsess over a new car for work as my client base has dramatically increased and the current car just isn’t cutting it anymore. Must have more room. Wonder if driving a big ass car makes me a hypocrite and/or negates my status as a green leaning liberal.
5. Research fuel economy of various vehicles. Marvel at fact that Hummer H3 and Honda Odyssey have very similar fuel consumption habits.
6. Take kid to school (list is not in order) and arrange for husband to pick him up so as not to have a repeat of yesterday’s excitement in which I broke several land speed records trying to get there after a closing and had to call in some favors due to my tardiness.
7. Go to a home inspection.
8. Deliver house keys to some new owners.
9. Attempt to make it to two doctors appointments on time but likely reschedule one of them instead.
10. Attend weigh in at WW while wearing lightest clothing I own in hopes that I can just break even and not have gained. Follow meeting with breakfast from fast food chain. Yeah, I’m that girl. Besides, do you see this list? How else do I get to eat?
11. Start mentally planning next vacation in order to escape to do lists.
12. Marvel at everything that managed to get done before lunch and begin to do list for afternoon.

Today I saw super pregnant woman with what looked to be a full grown man crammed into her uterus, and, while I was both horrified and in awe of the physics that allowed a 5’2″ human being walk with 70% of her body mass hanging three feet out in front, I was jealous.

Today I read this post about a couple of young women who were completely taking their pregnancies for granted and it made me angry. I remembered similar instances from my past. Moments where I thought I would slap the next friend who gleefully announced that she was unexpectedly pregnant. As if it is really as easy as all those sex ed folks from high school would have you believe. Unexpectedly pregnant. Ponder that.

Today I couldn’t get my mind off of a baby that a friend of a friend called me about. The birth family was considering an adoption plan. They wanted to know if I would be interested in the child. I gave them names of people who could provide counseling and legal advice. They decided not to move forward as they didn’t want to deal with lawyers. They said they might just drop the child off at the fire station or some such nonsense. Days later the child ended up at the hospital with brain injuries from being shaken. Parents may or may not be in jail. The baby is now going to have lifelong consequences from the brain injuries it sustained. Last I heard it was being taken into protective custody by the state. I’m assuming it survived, but I don’t know.  All because they didn’t want to deal with an attorney.

As if attorneys are the issue.

Dear stupid people of the world, Lawyers are not inherently bad people. Some of my best friends are lawyers. Some of them even do adoption cases for free. If you are considering an adoption plan for your child, you owe it to them to make an actual plan with actual legal protections involved for all parties. Dropping the kid at the gas station and hoping for the best IS NOT a plan.

How is it that those people have kids, but others can’t?

Before any of you get all high and mighty and bring up the fact that I chose to adopt, I know that I can technically grow a kiddo. At least I think I can. I have the parts and all, though that is certainly not a guarantee. Those of you that know the whole story know that mine is a sort of chosen infertility. I take a medication that causes horrific birth defects. This medication is integral to my daily survival. Skipping it is not an option if I want to stay alive and stroke free, and, having survived a tiny stroke in college, let me assure you that I most certainly want to pass on any future stroke activity. So, we chose not to go the pregnancy route. OK, in full disclosure, we embarked on an irresponsibly dangerous though medically supervised plan to attempt a home grown version of kiddo 1.0, but after a friend had a stroke during her pregnancy I came to my senses and called our adoption agency the following day. Even though I know it was and is the right choice, I’m still sometimes resentful of other people’s baby bumps. Sometimes. Like today.

Today I read about the happy news that a family I know through VN adoption connections is adopting a beautiful little girl from Thailand. Um… I want to adopt from Thailand. I have an aunt from Thailand! Pick me! Pick meeee! Hell, I want to adopt from anywhere that doesn’t have an excruciating wait. At the moment though, only Korea would even consider us due to my bionic heart parts, and the wait time between referral and travel is over a year and that is simply too long for me to attempt to stare at a photo and retain my sanity. The wait is too damn long.

Now I have the giggles because I’m imagining that as said by the SNL version of Jimmy McMillan of The Rent Is Too Damn High party. The wait is too damn long, and the rent is too damn high.

While I was busy being in an ugly place, I saw a link on facebook to the Threads of Feeling page and was immediately put in my place. I first learned of the fascinating online exhibit via Dawn Davenport of Creating A Family:

The vast majority of mothers failed to heed the instruction to leave an identifying token, perhaps because they were too beaten down by rotten luck and grim lives to imagine a time when they would be able to provide a warm, clean home for their baby.  All the same, 5,000 of the babies came with some something attached.  The hospital promised that “great care will be taken for the preservation” of the item, and by golly, great care was indeed taken.  These pieces of fabric were recently re-discovered in the archives of the hospital and form the largest collection of 18^th century textiles surviving in Britain, and probably the world.

… … … … …

Out of the 16,282 infants admitted between 1741 and 1760, only 152 mothers ever reclaimed their child. One of these 152 was Sarah Bender. When she left her son, she also left a piece of elaborate patchwork, made up of bits of printed fabric, on which she had embroidered a heart in red thread. She retained the matching piece. Eight years later, she showed up at the door to the Foundling Hospital and presented her piece of patchwork, and left with her son.

Eight years later she left with her son.

O.M.G.

I am a sobbing mess over here.

Sure, if you get all caught up in the hows and whys of leaving a child there to live and then not coming back for eight whole years, and you allow your mind to ponder the intricacies of those choices, and you spend a minute or two in How Dare They land, and why wasn’t adoption an option, and you entertain the notions of all of today’s complexities and laws and social constructs it might make you angry, but don’t go there. Don’t do it. If you do you’ll spoil the beauty of the sentiment.

You should really check out the online exhibit as it is phenomenal.

Phenomenal.

Something I never thought I’d say about a scrap of cloth.

Unless it was green.

As previously stated, green suits me.

As an aside, you should check out Dawn’s podcast. I usually listen to them and almost always learn something new.

LOVE THESE BOYS.

If you live in Arkansas, please consider a trip to LR for a fabulous event on Friday, April 8. Bring your friends and enjoy a night of awesome food and fantastic music. If you enjoy competition, pony up $75 and enter your own gumbo team. If you or your company might be interested in sponsorship, we’d love to talk.

Stop by the school and buy a few tickets.

Call me, and I might even deliver.

Do it for the school. Do it for the kids.

Do it for Bex.

Because gumbo matters.

Period.

Even more fun is learning of the tragedy as you plug the device into the charger on your way to bed, only to find yourself still futzing with it two and a half hours later, and wondering why it is that you no longer enjoy sleep.

PS. If you can’t handle sarcasm and impressively run on sentences, we can’t be friends.

Consider this lame post as proof that I am not dead. I am, however, neck deep in work. And kiddo school crap. And impending kiddo diagnostic visits that force me to fill out eight pages of genetic info on myself and the husband, despite the fact that it is sort of irrelevant since I didn’t contribute to the genetic rendering of said child. I have written “N/A” across eight pages. It was implied that if the forms are not filled out we may not be seen. I implied that YES, YES WE WOULD, even if it meant that I had to speak to the president of the whole damn place, which I can do as he used to be my personal cardiologist and I have his cell number. Needless to say, my stress level is a smidge elevated.

Did I mention that I am heavily involved in two back to back fund raising events for two different organizations, both of which are requiring at least one meeting per week?

Did I also mention that clients are currently coming out of the woodwork (hooray for spring)?

I could also point out that I STILL haven’t completed the tax prep for my mom’s company (Hi, Mom!), but since that would make me look like a slacker, I think I’ll just leave that out.

Something had to give.

Since I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my sanity, the blog fell off the to do list.

On the upside, WW is still my pal and I hope to be a total of 15lbs lighter as of tomorrow’s weigh in.

As for now, I’m off to eat some ice cream. I deserve it.