Subscribe in a Reader
Adoption Rant
Sunday morning my daughter came to me while I was ignoring my children catching up on my blog reading and promptly whipped down her pajama bottoms. As she was standing there with her ass cheeks hanging out for the world to look at me, I noticed the glimmer of her two little moons flashing from the corner of my eye.
I turned around to ask her what the heck she was doing only to discover that her lily white skin had an angry rash and some scabs marring her young butt.
“It itches Mom. What is it?” She asked, while looking at me with all the innocence and trust her blue eyes could convey.
“Um, seeing as how I forgot to attend the parenting course on rashes of an unknown etiology, I’m going to have to tell you I have no freaking idea, Frac. Does it hurt?” I was tempted to touch it, but let’s face it. Those are her ASS cheeks in front of me. I have no idea if she washes those things when she’s in the shower, plus that rash could be contagious and there is no way in God’s green earth that I want to walk around with an itchy red ass.
“Not really, but it is driving me nuts. Can you fix it?” Um, no. My medical license isn’t valid, um, anywhere.
So off to the pediatrician’s we went yesterday. The good news, it’s just eczema that has been terrorized by ten little fingers in the wee hours of the night. Some good ointment and some mitts on my kid at night and time should take care of the rest.
I love going to see the pediatrician. He is THE man. I’d marry him if his wife wouldn’t rip my limbs off and beat me to death with them first. Going to see Lyle is like going to see my favorite relative. He’s seen me first thing in the morning, he’s seen me do the UGLY cry, he has seen me snort liquid out of my nose from laughter and through it all, he is not too embarrassed to acknowledge that he knows me.
Plus, he held my hand the night Bug died and helped me break the news to my husband. He’s officially family.
After he poked around my daughter’s hind quarters and doled out his doctorly advice, our conversation turned towards the adoption. I asked him if he has spoken to the adoption asshats as they had said they would make a decision regarding a certain child’s readiness to become a sibling again once they contacted him.
This was two weeks ago. Lyle has not received a call as of yet. The steam is still pouring out of my ears. I keep replaying the promise this twit uttered about getting in touch with the teachers and doctor (like she should have the FIRST time around) over and over in my head.
Turns out said twit hasn’t contacted the teachers either. What the FUCK?
While I certainly don’t believe our adoption application is more important than the next couple’s, I do believe in doing what you promise. This woman called LAST MONDAY to say she was on the ball and would make the calls as quickly as possible to ensure our holding pattern was not unending.
Like a dumbass, I believed her. This will teach me.
So I did what any normal, rational woman who is relying on a bunch of government dough heads to determine the fate of her family size and indirectly, the direction what her future may take, would do. I called and left a voice mail inquiring what the hell was going on.
My daughter was impressed I managed to sound scary without swearing. I informed her it is a talent one must work hard at cultivating.
Not surprisingly, they have yet to return my call. But that is okay. I have their home phone numbers. And I’m not above calling at all hours of the day. Especially during the dinner hour.
Somewhere out there, is a small child with extreme medical needs who needs a momma bear to call his or her own. Somewhere out there, a small child with extreme medical needs is either in temporary foster care or sitting in a facility while a couple of bureacrats dilly dally about doing their job.
And that pisses me off. It would be one thing if they hadn’t approved us and just ruled we were unfit or not ready to involve another life in the twisted mess we call family. But they haven’t done that. So hurry the hell up, quit fucking the dog and do your damn job.
Because there is a pissed off Redneck who is about to start breathing fire out of her nose and she’s looking to aim it at the nearest adoption office.
June 5th, 2007 at 9:03 am
Remind me not to ever do anything to get on your bad side, T.
As to the adoption crap, I wish I could help, but I live outside Washington DC, bureacracy capital of the world, and the only solution I’ve found for these sorts of things is to hand carry paperwork and sit in people’s offices and stare at them until they do what I want them to do. Unfortunately, I don’t think that would work in this case.
I pray that she gets the smack upside the head with a two-by-four that she needs without it being delivered by you, thereby rendering any decisions about adoption moot.
Oh, yeah, and sorry ’bout Frac’s bottom. Nemo has eczema on his face cheeks and it sucks, but the cream the doctor gave us keeps it at bay pretty well.
June 5th, 2007 at 9:12 am
What a bunch of assholes. I hope they get it together soon.
June 5th, 2007 at 9:13 am
Sounds like a little fire breathin’ is warranted in this case, sista!
Keep on ‘em.
Oh and glad Frac’s bottom rash was easily cured.
June 5th, 2007 at 9:17 am
It’s amazing to me that any ole yahoo with bits can have kids and no one gives a crap, but people put their hearts out there to take care of a kid in need and bureaucrats aplenty get to have a say. Bull to the shit.
June 5th, 2007 at 9:21 am
Sounds like a genuine pain in the ass, on all counts. I can only hope your adoption woes are cured as quickly and easily as Frac’s hindquarters.
June 5th, 2007 at 9:53 am
I love your heart.
And the passion you have and the certainty you have about an unknown childs destiny.
Bug is looking down on you happy and proud of his bear mumma.
June 5th, 2007 at 10:41 am
Glad I shall never piss you off!
Also happy to hear Frac’s ass cheeks shall be better soon.
You are correct - somewhere there is someone who needs you as a momma bear. I will continue to keep the good thoughts for you.
I’m going to have borrow that “fucking the dog” phrase though….gave this beat down girlie a smile.
((Hugs))
June 5th, 2007 at 11:05 am
UGH.
I’m sorry. This has gone on for too long.
Give ‘em hell, girl.
(And might I add, when you get mad, I get horny.)
June 5th, 2007 at 11:46 am
You are WOMAN. And you ROAR.
(And you ROCK.)
June 5th, 2007 at 12:04 pm
You hit the nail on the head when you said there is a child out there just waiting for you guys!! All the while someone is dicking around and children are left in limbo. What is the deal? How can they not see that something is WRONG with that picture.
June 5th, 2007 at 12:08 pm
P.S. Your Lyle post, awesome! I am in tears.
June 5th, 2007 at 12:33 pm
And don’t worry about your eyebrows. We can always pencil them back in.
June 5th, 2007 at 12:37 pm
We went through our own personal hell with my son’s adoption, only it was the government…it was the lawyer we were paying! What should have taken 6 months took over 2 years.
I feel your anger!
June 5th, 2007 at 1:08 pm
That is infuriating. Good for you for calling peops and taking names. I wonder why they are really so busy down there that they can’t keep their word?
June 5th, 2007 at 2:48 pm
I don’t suppose you’d be interested in teaching that particular frightful skill …
June 5th, 2007 at 2:52 pm
You have really got to add the words “itchy red ass” to the title of this post, just to really throw people off. Plus–think of the google hits.
June 5th, 2007 at 5:19 pm
Go get ‘em! That baby need you.
June 5th, 2007 at 5:21 pm
Glad to hear that Frac’s pain in the ass is nothing serious. Hope that other pain in the ass gets her shit together and clears you for adoptionhood soonest.
June 5th, 2007 at 5:55 pm
i hate it when someone says they are going to do something and then they don’t. i really hate that.
but that said, this is going to work out. i just know it.
June 5th, 2007 at 6:02 pm
call early. call often. call until their telephone hurts.
tell them, each time, “this is what i will do for my child.”
if they’re smart, they’ll give you a busload of ‘em.
June 5th, 2007 at 6:23 pm
So so glad I have met you … while not in person with each blog I can picture you and I giving all of them hell, but you do much better than I do, and I am taking notes! Give em all hell and don’t quit calling!
June 5th, 2007 at 7:06 pm
Give ‘em hell RM! Lying sonsabitches!
Glad to hear your daughter didn’t have worms. I dont know that I could go through that again.
June 5th, 2007 at 7:30 pm
I really want you to get that kid soon, but a part of me is waiting for you to go all postal on their asses. Is that wrong?
Eh.
You’re a scary chick and that’s why I love you.
June 6th, 2007 at 2:19 pm
I feel your daughter’s pain. I have a similar condition (that’s TMI isn’t it?) and it flares up when I’m highly stressed. My husband’s sympathetic remark was “Don’t scratch it.” *rolls eyes*.
And my father always used to say “If you want something done, call an engineer. If you want something done slowly, call the government.” Good luck, RM. We’re rootin’ for you.
June 6th, 2007 at 11:17 pm
Your a way better woman then me.
I’d have already lost my mind and would have done some stupid act of rage that would have rendered me childless.
When I grow up, I’m aiming to be like you. If only to breath fire from my nose.
On a serious note though, your going to get that kiddo hun, hang in there.
June 7th, 2007 at 12:12 am
Taking their own sweet time seems to be the company mottto in adoption-land. This happened with my first “niece” and we are now waiting for her patient parents to receive travel approval so that they can go and get her sister (who is 7 and not getting any younger in that orphanage, people!!!). Frustrating does not cover it. Irritated does not cover it. Pissed off does not cover it.
Here’s hoping that both of your waits come to an end soon.
June 7th, 2007 at 6:55 am
That’s so unfair. It’s too bad, but a lot of those workers develop much too thick of a skin. They lose their empathy somewhere along the line.
I hope they get it together quickly.
June 14th, 2007 at 1:03 am
You have given me the courage to create my own blog about our adoption woes. This whole process is the pits. Tell me again why we’re doing this? My faithful cat is purring by my side while I can’t sleep and am reading blogs. Would a kid do that? (would I want her to sit on the desk, pushing my arm off the mouse, and purr? have to think on that one.)
Thank you for being slightly nuts and not afraid to show it