Over a month ago we mailed $830 and our application to the application to petition to bring a foreign orphan overseas to the United States Citizenship and Immigration Service (USCIS). Funny enough, they cashed our check immediately and sent us a handwritten receipt, but said it will be a couple more weeks before they could send us an appointment to come into office and see them. In the beginning of October they sent us a very formal looking letter stating our date and time we are assigned to present ourselves in person, and to have our fingerprints scanned into the abyss that is our government at work. I couldn’t help but think, as my fingerprints were taken for the third time along this process, that my future career as a spy was all but crushed.
So, our biometrics a.k.a. ‘scanning your fingerprints into the abyss’ appointment was yesterday. Before we went, I was quite intimidated about the event. Whenever you think ‘immigrations’ you conjure up images of officers in sunglasses with a toothpick hanging out of their mouth, wielding a large gun in one hand and a leash to a barking dog in the other. It also didn’t help that the appointment came with a lot of rules: Must show up for your assigned date and time; Will not be admitted to building without formal letter stating your appointment; No cell phones allowed in building; No one but applicants allowed in building… but actually it turned out to be very docile.
It is a run down office in the middle of a strip mall, nestled between an UPS store and some other non-descript place of commerce. The windows are blocked out, so you cannot see in or out. The walls are a baby blue so light it could be just tinted white; and the only things on the walls are a poster proclaiming “Welcome to the United States!”, a wrinkled picture of Pres. Bush slapped up in a plexiglas poster frame, flanked by two other smaller pics of unknown-to-me-but-they-must-be-important old white men. In the first waiting room we were entertained by ‘The Young and the Restless’ playing on a fuzzy tv with rabbit-ears, the second waiting room / fingerprinting room / really just the other side of the same long room we were kept quiet by the ‘Tyra Banks’ show playing on another tv. Welcome to America, indeed!
It was really quite an odd experience. I know the government loves to spend money on itself… and I have been in enough city halls / government centers / police departments lately to know they are nothing fancy but they are at least adequate - but this was… odd. As we sat nestled between people of all cultures hoping for a life in America, and others whom I can only assume were fellow international adoptive parents, in this strange eclectic room with a wrinkly G.W. staring down from above, I couldn’t help but think -how surreal.
I’m thinking next time we should try it on acid.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
Out of Luck
In a conversation with a very dear friend of mine who is due with her first child at the end of January (unless you can cross your legs and try really hard for Feb. 1st? What an awesome 30th b-day present for me!), we were talking about how all of a sudden we are so old. Seriously, wasn’t it just yesterday we were having parties at the Hampton Inn because we were too young to get into bars, and too stupid to just stay home? Worrying the next morning, “are my eyes too bloodshot, or do my clothes stink too badly?”. Oh, wait… no, that was… thirteen years ago! Geez. Don’t try and tell me I’m not old.
Anyways, back to my original thought – we tried to assure each other we will still be ‘kick-ass moms’ (who, by the way, will never tell my teenagers what I did as a teenager), but she, too, was wondering who decided we are mature enough to be PARENTS!?! It is a frightening thought, but this got me thinking… well, in my case: the adoption agency, the social worker, the local police, the police in every county I’ve lived in for the last ten years, the FBI, my doctor, my bank, Dept of Homeland Security, my employer, two friends and two family members, Dept of Human Services,… am I forgetting anyone? Oh, and yes, the Ethiopian Government. So, I guess I am ready. Or so I’m told. You, on the other hand, my dear Annie, may be sh*t out of luck. :)
Anyways, back to my original thought – we tried to assure each other we will still be ‘kick-ass moms’ (who, by the way, will never tell my teenagers what I did as a teenager), but she, too, was wondering who decided we are mature enough to be PARENTS!?! It is a frightening thought, but this got me thinking… well, in my case: the adoption agency, the social worker, the local police, the police in every county I’ve lived in for the last ten years, the FBI, my doctor, my bank, Dept of Homeland Security, my employer, two friends and two family members, Dept of Human Services,… am I forgetting anyone? Oh, and yes, the Ethiopian Government. So, I guess I am ready. Or so I’m told. You, on the other hand, my dear Annie, may be sh*t out of luck. :)
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Obligations
I never want to question a parent’s decision to make an adoption plan for their child; that is not my place nor my right. I do, however, feel it is my obligation as a mother-to-be of a transnational adoptee, to question and work towards a solution to the necessary reasons why these children are being relinquished or abandoned. I am not trying to say we should not adopt - far from it. There are children in need immediately, and they cannot wait for society to change. I also do not want to give the impression that I think Ethiopia needs to be ‘westernized’ to thrive better as a nation. I just think, as a fellow human – but even more so now as a mother of an international child – I am compelled to assist any countries in need so adoption doesn’t have to be the best option.
Though I feel totally blessed by the world of adoption - my eyes have been opened to things I had never even considered or brushed off before - and I hope to adopt again in the future (deep breath, Brad - I know we have to get through this one, first!), my real deep down wish is that international adoption would not be necessary. It painful to think that I will be given the unbelievable gift of a child, all because another woman somewhere could not afford him, but I can. That fact stings a bit more when you add in the fact that as an international adoptee, they are also losing their country, language, and cultural way of life. That does not change the situation for the children now, but maybe we can change the situation for the children of the future.
Added:
I was just made privy to an article that may explain some of my ideas, but in a far more eloquent way than I. It is a little long-ish, but well worth the read.
http://www.motherjones.com/news/feature/2007/11/did-i-steal-my-daughter.html
Though I feel totally blessed by the world of adoption - my eyes have been opened to things I had never even considered or brushed off before - and I hope to adopt again in the future (deep breath, Brad - I know we have to get through this one, first!), my real deep down wish is that international adoption would not be necessary. It painful to think that I will be given the unbelievable gift of a child, all because another woman somewhere could not afford him, but I can. That fact stings a bit more when you add in the fact that as an international adoptee, they are also losing their country, language, and cultural way of life. That does not change the situation for the children now, but maybe we can change the situation for the children of the future.
Added:
I was just made privy to an article that may explain some of my ideas, but in a far more eloquent way than I. It is a little long-ish, but well worth the read.
http://www.motherjones.com/news/feature/2007/11/did-i-steal-my-daughter.html
Thursday, October 18, 2007
A Flag By Any Other Name...
Nothing new on the adoption front… but the ole’ blog is looking a little bare, plus I’m feeling a little wordy. So, I would like to share my opinions with you on a video my husband has shown me (I think he knew it would make me all irritated), in which all the comments on the forum where he found it were overwhelming positive, proclaiming this man a hero.
Please watch, then I will rant:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nONjlZ8YMkA
Before I even begin, let me start out by saying I love living in the United States; there is nowhere else I would chose to live. I feel extremely fortunate that I was born here, and that my great-grandparents were the ones that had to make the difficult journey of immigrating here, not I.
Here is my issue with the video - this man acted in obvious anger, shown by the look on his face and the tension he exuded. I agree with him in one aspect, the American flag needs to be flown higher than others, merely because that is the law. True, I feel the law a bit silly and feudalistic, but whatever. It is the law. The two ‘shopkeepers’ standing by and watching, they did not look to be aggressive fellows. In fact, they seemed a bit befuddled by the whole situation. Instead of this man angrily marching to the storefront brandishing a weapon (with videographer in tow, none the less!) and practicing his own form of vigilante ‘justice’ by also breaking the law (vandalism and robbery) – why not go to that shop and say ‘Hey. There is a law here that the American flag must be flown higher than all others.” But oh, no no! That is not the American way! We must do things with vengeance and fanaticism, and hide it behind an allegiance to our country!
Intolerance masked by patriotism is still intolerance.
There is no reason the shopkeepers cannot love living in the U.S., work hard to prosper at their store, building a better life and still be proud of their Mexican heritage. We who are more removed from our immigrating ancestors, such as I, do not really feel a connection to my source countries… I think I am mostly German? But, my guess is my great-grandparents, as with any first generation immigrant, felt very differently. I wonder, if it had been a flag of a Scandinavian country flying above the Stars & Stripes, would the reaction had been the same? Would he still have acted so boldly and unlawfully, with hate in his voice, or merely explained to the shopkeepers why it shouldn’t be flown that way?
Being an American is not a right you can only be born with, it is a right extended to all who all who lawfully come to be.
Thanks for letting me rant. Please feel free to tell my why you think I am wrong or right.
Please watch, then I will rant:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nONjlZ8YMkA
Before I even begin, let me start out by saying I love living in the United States; there is nowhere else I would chose to live. I feel extremely fortunate that I was born here, and that my great-grandparents were the ones that had to make the difficult journey of immigrating here, not I.
Here is my issue with the video - this man acted in obvious anger, shown by the look on his face and the tension he exuded. I agree with him in one aspect, the American flag needs to be flown higher than others, merely because that is the law. True, I feel the law a bit silly and feudalistic, but whatever. It is the law. The two ‘shopkeepers’ standing by and watching, they did not look to be aggressive fellows. In fact, they seemed a bit befuddled by the whole situation. Instead of this man angrily marching to the storefront brandishing a weapon (with videographer in tow, none the less!) and practicing his own form of vigilante ‘justice’ by also breaking the law (vandalism and robbery) – why not go to that shop and say ‘Hey. There is a law here that the American flag must be flown higher than all others.” But oh, no no! That is not the American way! We must do things with vengeance and fanaticism, and hide it behind an allegiance to our country!
Intolerance masked by patriotism is still intolerance.
There is no reason the shopkeepers cannot love living in the U.S., work hard to prosper at their store, building a better life and still be proud of their Mexican heritage. We who are more removed from our immigrating ancestors, such as I, do not really feel a connection to my source countries… I think I am mostly German? But, my guess is my great-grandparents, as with any first generation immigrant, felt very differently. I wonder, if it had been a flag of a Scandinavian country flying above the Stars & Stripes, would the reaction had been the same? Would he still have acted so boldly and unlawfully, with hate in his voice, or merely explained to the shopkeepers why it shouldn’t be flown that way?
Being an American is not a right you can only be born with, it is a right extended to all who all who lawfully come to be.
Thanks for letting me rant. Please feel free to tell my why you think I am wrong or right.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Working on the Room
Just a whole lota' waiting on our hands... So the best-est sister ever came over and helped me paint some wooden circles to decorate the baby's room.
Here is some proof of our hard work:
Thanks, Kimby!
Here is some proof of our hard work:
Thanks, Kimby!
Friday, October 12, 2007
Changed Perceptions Part Deux
A few post down, I stated I’ve started to realize I see things a little differently than my ‘post-adoption-decision’ self. This is another example of that, one I’ve thought about for quite awhile, but wasn’t sure if I should talk about. Makes me feel awful, and that my love is conditional, but it is not, I swear! It just is an example of how your total thought process changes… well, I will just let you read it and decide if I am evil or not.
You know how when you are in the grocery store, and there is some runny-nosed kid pouting and screaming and trantruming, and you think to yourself “Glad that is not my kid!”? Admit it! I used to think that way, too, but now instead I get this weird, “Could I love you?” thought instead. It is like, now that I know my child will not biologically be a part of me, any random kid I run into could be a living example of what and who my child is, and I constantly feel the need to validate that fact that I am okay with that. I have no doubts I will love my child as fiercely as I would if I grew him myself, but still the fact that my child is as foreign to me at this point as the kid trantruming in the cereal isle (its always seems to be in the cereal isle...) is kind of a daunting thought.
I cannot look at my husband and mine’s baby pictures, and try to envision what kind of scrunchy baby face ours will have. I can’t close my eyes and try to predict what features s/he will have, who they will resemble when they are older. Therefore, now any child of color who happens to walk in my path, I feel the need to study. Will my child’s hair be soft ringlets like this little boy, or more textured like this one? It is like a disease.
On the other side of the story, it also makes me a little sad for my future child. S/he also will not be able to look at us as his parents, and see what s/he will look like as they grow old. Unless the agency can give us pictures of the birth parents or relatives, it will be a complete mystery to him.
You know how when you are in the grocery store, and there is some runny-nosed kid pouting and screaming and trantruming, and you think to yourself “Glad that is not my kid!”? Admit it! I used to think that way, too, but now instead I get this weird, “Could I love you?” thought instead. It is like, now that I know my child will not biologically be a part of me, any random kid I run into could be a living example of what and who my child is, and I constantly feel the need to validate that fact that I am okay with that. I have no doubts I will love my child as fiercely as I would if I grew him myself, but still the fact that my child is as foreign to me at this point as the kid trantruming in the cereal isle (its always seems to be in the cereal isle...) is kind of a daunting thought.
I cannot look at my husband and mine’s baby pictures, and try to envision what kind of scrunchy baby face ours will have. I can’t close my eyes and try to predict what features s/he will have, who they will resemble when they are older. Therefore, now any child of color who happens to walk in my path, I feel the need to study. Will my child’s hair be soft ringlets like this little boy, or more textured like this one? It is like a disease.
On the other side of the story, it also makes me a little sad for my future child. S/he also will not be able to look at us as his parents, and see what s/he will look like as they grow old. Unless the agency can give us pictures of the birth parents or relatives, it will be a complete mystery to him.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Yummy Yummy Yummy I Got Love in My Tummy
Last night to celebrate our ‘officially being on the waiting families list’ – even though technically we thought we were on the list since September 17th but than we found out officially we weren’t on the official list until October 3rd but needless to say we are NOW ON THAT FREAKIN’ LIST – we went out to try some Ethiopian food with a good friend. Follow that? Good. And the food? It was delicious! And far less spicy than I thought it would be. There was some dishes I couldn’t eat, made my eyes water a tad, but most of it was yummy yummy yummy. Triple the yummy. Can’t get much better than that.
Let me try to explain the food, so you can all feel safe to venture out and feast as well. The staple of the Ethiopian diet is a flat, cold pancake-like bread called injera. It is made from fermented teff flour, so it has a kind of vinegary / sour dough taste to me. It is very moist and spongy looking. That is laid out flat on the plate, and then various wats, or how I would describe it is thick stews, are placed on top. You use no utensils; you tear off pieces of the injera to scoop up some of the wat and voila! - tasty dinner. In my opinion the vegetarian wats were the best, but we also tried various chicken, beef, and lamb. No pork, since most of Ethiopia is either Muslim or Ethiopian Orthodox Christians, which give the big ‘no-no’ to eating our swine friends.
There are a few Ethiopian restaurants in the Twin Cities area, but the one we tried was Fasika, on Snelling and University in St. Paul. The restaurant itself is quaint and quite small, but the atmosphere is friendly and the food is tasty, so I give it my whole-hearted approval. Anyone ever up to going, we will gladly go back!
Let me try to explain the food, so you can all feel safe to venture out and feast as well. The staple of the Ethiopian diet is a flat, cold pancake-like bread called injera. It is made from fermented teff flour, so it has a kind of vinegary / sour dough taste to me. It is very moist and spongy looking. That is laid out flat on the plate, and then various wats, or how I would describe it is thick stews, are placed on top. You use no utensils; you tear off pieces of the injera to scoop up some of the wat and voila! - tasty dinner. In my opinion the vegetarian wats were the best, but we also tried various chicken, beef, and lamb. No pork, since most of Ethiopia is either Muslim or Ethiopian Orthodox Christians, which give the big ‘no-no’ to eating our swine friends.
There are a few Ethiopian restaurants in the Twin Cities area, but the one we tried was Fasika, on Snelling and University in St. Paul. The restaurant itself is quaint and quite small, but the atmosphere is friendly and the food is tasty, so I give it my whole-hearted approval. Anyone ever up to going, we will gladly go back!
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Bummer...
So... another misunderstanding between our Social Worker and me. Seriously, maybe I'm just hearing what I want to hear? Hmm... I was diagnosed with 'Selective Hearing' as a kid - which, by the way, I thought was a real ailment until someone laughed at me... Anyways, I received an email on Friday from our contact person from the agency, and it is when our DOSSIER is approved that we are put 'on the list', not when our HOMESTUDY is approved. Ugh. That means even though I thought we were coming up on the month one mark of waiting, we actually just started on 10/03. Bummer.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Tiny Updates
Woo-hoo! Friday night we came home to find the Dept. of Homeland Security / USCIS has given us our biometrics appointments! Which, by the way, is just a fancy word for 'scan of your fingerprints', as far as I can tell. How nice. Our government has gone to an inkless system to fight the terrorism that is adoptive families.
In other, but not baby related news (we do have to have some other hobbies), Brad and I decided to take the motorcycle out for a spin yesterday with some friends, since the day was so unusually nice for October. This is what happens when you let Brad lead the ride:
Yes, that is sweet sweet Tallulah Belle covered up to her saddle bags in mud. If we had been sitting on her in the picture, you would have seen we were covered, too. Apparently road construction season + lots of rain the days before = Brad going through puddles/potholes at 40mph. By the way, it is only I who call her 'Tallulah'... Brad insists his bikes don't have names. Well, I guess that is an issue he should bring up with Tallulah, now, isn't it?
And lastly, a huge congratulations to my big bro for passing the bar! If I had a cute picture of us as kiddos on my computer, I would embarrass you and post it on here... but alas, digital technology was nil back in the good 'ole days, and I haven't gotten with the times and bought a scanner. But, anyways, congrats! One day lawyer, next day El Presidente'. Viva la revolution! Think hard about my advice of wearing flip flops to your swearing in ceremony- it is best to separate yourself from the herd as soon as possible. All my love- your sis.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Paperwork: Mission Accomplished
As of the morning of 09/28, our dossier documents were in the hands of the local USPS employee. As I handed her my $2.76 in shipping and watched her haphazardly toss my precious cargo into a bin, I couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive. Should I have hand delivered the package myself? No, I don't want to seem overbearing. Hmm... but, should I have hidden in bushes, waiting until the mail truck leaves for its route, making sure it makes it to its intended destination? Yes, sounds good, but logistically impossible... I'd never be able to tell which truck my priceless shipment is on. *sigh* I guess I need to just trust the system. Or, I could have paid $2.50 more for tracking. Hurts to be cheap, sometimes, I guess.
And yes, I am that dorky to have taken a picture of the envelope. I also made Brad sit next to me and took a picture with us holding it, too. Adoptive version of an ultrasound?
As long as our paperwork all checks out (it should... I quadruple checked it before organizing it and neatly placing it in the envelope) we are looking at a 5-7 month wait to move up the list of waiting families and receive a referral. Here is to time speeding by!
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