All the minutiae, none of the politics.
1. It’s official: we’ve got buncha kids!
Nastja and Alosa said two big! fat! yesses! to the Latvian orphan court officials yesterday (i.e., they want to join our family forever), which means I can officially toss off phrases like, “My older kids,” “*One* of my daughters,” “My son,” “My youngest,” and so forth.
Which I will do. Exhaustively.
The straight dope: From the get-go, I really wanted two more kids, as well as a girl and a boy. Over the past two and a half years, however, our hosting-to-adoption journey took so many funky twists and turns that I turned in that wish, figuring it wasn’t worth pushing our luck.
Apparently there were take-backs on that wish.
Last year at this time, we were in heavy pursuit of one more daughter, who then became one less daughter. When I returned said daughter to Latvia (in deepest darkness–oof), our adoption coordinator asked me if we’d consider adopting again, and if we’d consider two.
“I just met two wonderful kids and I think they’d be good for your family,” she said.
“Uuuuum…,” I replied. (Those of you who have experienced a failed adoption can understand why my brain at that moment was about as functional as a pile of wet sawdust.)
“How old are they?” I asked. (Thinking I might be better to stick to adopting hamsters and hermit crabs.)
“Twelve or thirteen and…seventeen or eighteen,” she replied.
You have got to be kidding me, thought me, trotting back to my hotel to dig into a hearty continental breakfast, Latvian style.
God: “What’s that you say, Julia? You want two? And a boy? And you think the concept of adopting older kids is ninja and cool?”
(Tosses giftie down my way, snickering from the sky.)
2. After observing one of the chihuahuas eat a piece of squash off its own pee pad tonight, the 11-yr-old and I disowned them altogether, for forever.
I don’t think they noticed. They’re a bit dim.
3. My son has goals.
Ever seen the movie 17 Again, where Zac Efron eats that crazy sandwich packed with stuff like squirt cheese and corn chips? Yep, we’ll be making that.
I’ll probably make one for myself. There’s Nutella involved as well.
It must run in the genes. I once planned an entire vacation around the movie Sideways. Go to the Hitching Post and get a burger if you ever have the chance. You’ll thank me.
Happy Election Day, everyone!