Children's Museum

We celebrated cousin Brakston's 4th bday at the Children's Museum. Grant and Grace loved every minute of being there with one of their best buds. We go all the time, but there is something extra special when you go with your cousin!

Whirlwind Fun

So, last week, we headed to our annual China reunion, a time where we meet with many of the families who traveled with us to adopt our girls from China almost two years ago. We had a blast, and Grant treated the event like speed dating as he flitted from girl to girl. The time was filled with backyard bbqs, waterslides, trips to the zoo, dinners together, and swimming in the hotel pool. I can't thank these families enough for continuing to come; our girls, in some ways, have lost so very much already in their young lives; it is so special to me that they are building bonds together that will last a lifetime.

Thanks for Georgette, Madeline and Lauri for these photos (can't quite find my camera yet...).

Grant's assault on the ladies begins with Sarah...
Then, he's showing off his "Where's Waldo?" skills to Allie and Julianna...
Then, he found himself "girl trapped" (as he called it) by Mia Zotti...
And, then, he was off to hug on Jaden...
Here is the beautiful Grace...

Here is Grace with friend Mia in China and now...

All her China companions then and now (well, seven of the families)

Other random pics of the kids

Then, it was off to Chicago to hang out with our cousins. We had a great time touring the city, heading to the Field Museum, swimming and eating lots of food. We were fortunate enough to stay at "Kaya and Ash's house" (as Grant called it), and we are ever thankful to the Longs for that option. Grant became highly smitten with cousin Andrea, at one point offering to buy her a ring, and Andrea was a trooper putting up with Grant's constant advances. Don't know what we are going to do about that boy. I have no pictures on my camera of our several days in the windy city, so I'll try to grab some off Bret's phone and post them soon (bad mama. bad mama.).

More to come...

Livin' off the Land

I grew up in Los Angeles. I say that so you know that I wasn't in 4-H because, let's be honest, 4-H doesn't exist in LA. There are no county fairs. No one is entering a pumpkin pie in a contest.

That's part of the charm of Indiana for me. Not having grown up around the "ag" world, there are a lot of cute things about living in the midwest. For example, my favorite building at the State Fair is the one where produce is judged... and, yes, actual ribbons are presented. I love looking at the lines of zucchini and tomatoes and string beans; there's a simpleness (in a good way) of knowing that a whole pavilion is dedicated to these blue ribbon, garden gems.

So, it shouldn't have come as a shock to Bret, who knows that I have a tendency to become fixated, that I wanted a composter. It shouldn't have come as a shock that the words "micro-farm" and "chicken coop" came up at dinner. I think there's something really exciting about being mostly self sufficient and organic.

And, now, I have the space to do so. I have acres of space to do so. If I want to sell produce at the farmer's market, I can. If I want beehives (another potential in my book), I can. If I want a chicken coop housing my pet chickens (Henny Penny and General Tso, if you're interested), I can.

I think part of Bret's concern, rightfully so, is two-fold. One: I have a tendency to start things without a whole lot of follow through when things get old, tired, boring or hard. Like the guitar. Or the bathroom floor in our current "master bath" (quote marks because to call the smallest bathroom in history "master" seems a tad bit off). So, I think he thinks that I'll leave my poor chickens to freeze at the first sign of snow or after the first coop poop clean. And, he might be right.

Second: I'm from LA. I'm not sure you can kick the city out of the girl, no matter where you move. And, he might be right.

But, I contend that I have amazing stubbornness resolve and amazing resourcefulness. I often amaze Bret with what I can accomplish (like picking up that 60" TV all on my own or hoisting large pieces of furniture up the stairs). I'm pretty self reliant (for better or for worse), and I don't ask for Bret's help all too often (for better or for worse), so at the end of the day, I think my micro-farm might really work.

But, I've decided to take it easy on Bret and start small (not a usual approach for my "I'm all in" attitude), so we might just start with a large garden next summer and a composter as soon as I can find one I like. But, I just don't think it should come as a shock when this California girl sees her prize eggs or giant gourd at the State Fair. Because at the end of the day, I'm a country-livin' Hoosier now, and I've made peace with that!

Lafayette

On Sunday around 3pm, Erin looked at me and said, "I gotta get out of this 'house.' Let's go somewhere."

We had been planning on driving to scenic Colfax, Indiana to purchase a composter that Erin found on craigslist. (This is, in itself, a whole other blog. Sometimes I'm married to Betty Crocker. Other times I'm married to freaking Tipper Gore.) In the end, God intervened and gave the composter to some other poor sap, leaving us without a Sunday afternoon destination. I told Erin I was disappointed, not to lose the composter, but because I'd been thinking about getting a burger slathered in peanut butter up at the Triple XXX in West Lafayette, a short drive north of Colfax.

For those who remember, I spent the longest five years of my life in engineering at Purdue. West Lafayette is the surrounding community that turns its blind eye to the human atrocities taking place at Purdue, most notable in EE201 or the Physics building.

After contemplating the burger for a bit, Erin decided that we should go to Lafayette anyway and check out their little zoo at Columbian Park.

We arrived in Lafayette around 4:00pm, and the temperature was right around 100 degrees. It. Was. Hot. We spent about an hour wandering around Columbian Park, which turned out to be very nice for a small town park. It's strange that in my five years in Lafayette, I never made it out to the park. But given that I was trying to get out of Lafayette whenever possible, I guess it's not all that strange.

After the zoo and a ride on a train around the park, we made our way over to West Lafayette and the Triple XXX -- a restaurant name that is now un-Google-able in every possible way. Erin, Grant, and I got our cheeseburgers and Grace got her eggs. (You can't fight genetics. I'm sure it's the only time "Do they have wice?" (rice) has been yelled at 95 dBs in the Triple XXX.)

It's always very strange for me to return to Purdue's campus. By all accounts, it's a much nicer place that it was in the mid-90's. Largely dilapidated sections of West Lafayette have been renovated and now feature eateries, outdoor shopping malls, and nice, new apartment buildings -- things all sorely lacking during my tenure on campus.

I have little sentimentality for my college years. I know a lot of people look back at those years as their last gasp of youth, but to me, it was more like the first gasp in the coffin. I went from feeling like a relatively successful high school student to someone who understood virtually none of what was being presented in my engineering lectures, in part due to language barriers and in part due to absolutely horrible teachers.

As an adult, I can look back and see that me getting a 17% on a Physics exam (a "B" in that particular class) was not a failure all my own, but also an indication of a professor not doing his job...at all. But as a student, I basically decided that I had to be an idiot since I couldn't do any better than 17%. I think those experiences had some long-lasting negative affects on my love of learning and self-confidence, which is unfortunate. So while I'm thankful for my career, I also wonder, in the end, if there wasn't a better way to get from point A to B. But alas.

In some ways, returning to Purdue with my family is cathartic. I can walk around campus without my stomach in knots, and I can just enjoy being out with the kids. Here are a few pics from the afternoon.

Mmm...The Duane Purvis All-American...
The kids who can no longer take a "straight" picture...
Gracie on the train at Columbian Park, followed by a few random shots from the day...

The Simple Joys of Being Young

Happy 4th

We've been lame Fourth of July celebrators since Grant's arrival. His first year, we went to a cookout, and he was back in bed before 8 (he was only 6 months after all). One year, I don't have single picture taken (yes, our pics are cataloged by year and date--have you met Bret?). Then, one year, we went to Bedford for the parade, which was great, but that night ended in bed early too. Then, last year, we were just coming back from a month long vacation, and we were spent, so we were all asleep before dark.

So, this year, we decided to "do it up." We hit the morning parade and afternoon cookout, lit our own fireworks before heading over for an elephant ear and carnival rides before the big firework finale.

Grant and Grace were in heaven. There is real charm in small town Indiana 4th of July celebrations.

Here are Grant and Grace waiting for the parade to begin. Why Grace INSISTS on doing her silly face for every freakin' picture is beyond me.


Here they are grabbing candy as it is thrown on the parade route.


Here is their combined candy score--more than Halloween!


More random parade pictures...

Back on the Bus

"Oh good. It's nice to see that Bret & Erin are putting things back together and moving on."

Nope. That's not it. I'm literally getting back on the bus.

Ever since we moved into our new house, I've had what feels like a ridiculous commute to my job downtown. In the end, it takes around 50 minutes door to door each way. This includes a long spell of bumper to bumper driving and a walk of several blocks from a parking garage to our office. The stress of the driving coupled with the inadvertent exercise has gotten me thinking about whether there was some way to use Indy's limited public transportation to make my life easier.

After doing a little research, I discovered that a city bus gets to within about 15 minutes of our new house. At this point, the schedule claims that it's about 45 more minutes to my office. This puts me right around the hour mark. Maybe a few minutes longer each way. But there are some key differences that make the extra 30 minutes per day worthwhile.

First, I don't have to drive NEARLY as much. While this might be a deterrent to many, it's a good thing to me. I'm tired of driving. I'm tired of skidding around on ice and snow all winter. I'm tired of filling my tank multiple times each week. If I'm not driving, I can be checking my email, listening to the new Decemberists album in headphones, or sleeping.

Second, the bus drops me right at the door to my office. No more hike up the street in 10 inches of snow. While this isn't a big deal in June, it'll be a big deal in January.

So for the past few days, I've dumped my car at the 15 minute mark and taken the bus. Now I know some of you are thinking, "But aren't there guys with needles literally hanging from their arms on the bus?" or "Isn't the bus just, well, nasty? I'm pretty sure someone urinates on the floor first thing every morning."

The simple answer is "No." I've been surprisingly impressed this week with the ease and cleanliness with which IndyGo seems to operate. While not everyone on the bus looks like me, it's also safe to say that I would have no problems bringing my kids along with me on our bus system.

As a life long Hoosier, the use of public transportation has almost always been a non-issue. It's just not something that many people in Indy have ever grabbed onto -- especially those living in the 'burbs. But my travels in China made me aware of just how great a good public transportation system could be. My ability to cross all over both mainland China and Hong Kong with such ease made me a big fan of the concept. So while the offering here in Indy is pretty limited, it would certainly grow with greater use. The bus I take home at 5pm is only about 1/3 full each day, which is a shame really.

Erin has been teasing me about the fact that I fall asleep on the bus (which resulted in me narrowly making my destination yesterday). On top of the snoring and drooling, I ripped the crotch of my jeans out at work yesterday, so here I was on my way home, on the bus, hole in my crotch, asleep, snoring, with earphones on. I'm pretty confident that I was the dude being avoided on that particular route.

Happy Birthday, Grace MinWei

Our little girl turns three today, and she is just as sweet and funny and spicy as the day we met her (almost two years now... how can it be?).

She is still very particular about stuff, from the direction and corner she'll hold of her favorite blanket to what bowl or plate she'd like to use. She still a little surgeon, fascinated by cutting things open and taking them apart (just to put them back together again), and if you are hurt, watch out: the bandaid patrol is on the move.

She loves to sing and to read. She will sing to herself for hours a day, and I catch her often reading herself books. The other day I told Grace and Grant that they could have a toy in bed for about 10 minutes before "lights out," and Grace only wanted books. She loves to play PBS kids and Starfall (her real favorite), and it looks like she might join the ranks of her brother as a lefty.

She prays the longest, most elaborate prayers, and she has a quirky sense of humor that--at the very least--keeps her entertained. She is a pistol when it comes to obedience, as consequences carry little weight, but she tries (for the most part).

She is a tad more shy than her brother (who isn't?), but she is super confident, and now talks to strangers all the time. She's a little fish in the water, but she isn't the most coordianted on ground, but she's a tough cookie when it comes to pain (which comes in handy).

She is never moody, never sour; rather, she is very even tempered, very steady (a little unlike her brother, for those who know Grant).

But, more than anything, she is our sweet little girl who we love with all of our hearts!

Making Sense of Tragedy

Yesterday, was the worst day of my life. It wasn't "almost the worst day" or "one of the worst days." It was the worst.

Most adoptions don't carry the risk that our adoption did. Most adoptions are open and shut before leaving the hospital. And while our adoption carried more risk, nothing could prepare us for handing over our baby.

The pain and the exhaustion and the sickness came in waves today. Memories of yesterday haunted us, and missing Nadia is almost more than we can bear. But, in all of this--yes, even this--we rejoice.

Sitting in church this morning, I was spent. I knew I needed to be at church and even--in some small way--wanted to be there, but there was a whole other part of me that wanted to curl up into bed and to spend the day alone. But, our obedience this morning was met with great reward.

This little gem from the book of Philippians: "Yes, and I will continue to rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and God’s provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance. I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted..."

A lot of time is spent in the new testament talking about "rejoicing" amidst trouble or heartache or persecution. And, to be honest, it hasn't always made sense to me. I could reserve it for the spiritually elite, the Paul the Apostles of the world. And there was part of me that didn't understand because I didn't feel like I had truly suffered. And, in light of many in the world, I still haven't, but I get this little excerpt from Philippians in a whole new way.

You see, there is plenty of space in the Bible that talks about how suffering produces Christ-like character. And there are plenty of places in society that laud suffering for a similar result: the classic "what doesn't kill you will make you stronger" argument. But, I am here to say that those reasons aren't enough for me in light of yesterday. I'm not saying that they aren't great by-products to suffering for me, but they weren't the sole purpose in yesterday.

Yesterday, was about the fact that God--in His amazing compassion--met us in the most dire of circumstances. It was about how God knows all about what giving up a child feels like. And that truth alone helps my suffering rise out of the ashes and gives it purpose.

Because if that verse in Philippians ended with the part about my deliverance, I still would have gathered solace. But, thankfully it doesn't end there. It goes on to tell me that with courage and boldness, Christ can be exalted, lifted high, and made known. And that helps me--even with the sadness--see my suffering as suffering with purpose.

Today, as tired as I am, I am thankful that we have a God who is not distant; instead, we have a God who draws near. I am thankful for a husband who has been a rock of strength and faith to me, a great dad to his kids. And, I'm thankful that my suffering isn't just about character building because I don't think I'd ever find enough strength or faith to rejoice in that.

It Just Wasn't the Plan

Adoption is a heart wrenching experience, no matter the outcome. In the best cases, you love a child who isn't biologically your own in the exact same way that you'd love a biological child. In the worst cases, things don't turn out as planned, and you run the risk of getting your heart broken in the end.

Today was the day when all of Nadia's paperwork was to be signed, finalizing our adoption of this beautiful little girl. But it just wasn't in God's plan for our family.

We've had a rough couple of days. There have been questions about whether the paperwork was going to get signed, and just about the time we thought we had gotten through all of the hurdles, doubt was again introduced. At the end of the day, our birth mom changed her mind, and Nadia went home with her.

We knew going into this adoption that like most, there were risks. The risks in this case were somewhat higher, but Erin and I made the decisions the best way we knew how with the knowledge that we possessed. We prayed about things. We talked with Grant and Grace about the potential outcomes the best way we knew how. We wouldn't do anything differently.

In the end, we know that God has a plan for our family, and that eventually we'll have the baby that He wants us to have. But right now, it's hard. Really, really hard. Erin and I are numb. You never expect things to go this way. But even in the few hours since we felt like our worlds fell apart right in front of us, we've reaffirmed that we both believe in God, we both believe in each other, and we will get through this.

It does make for a rough Father's Day though. I'm sure this miserable day will eventually be a hazy, still a little teary, memory. But for now, we'd simply appreciate it if you'd pray for us and our kids. Thanks, and we love you guys...

Covington & Opelika

While my beautiful wife gets no sleep and raises our three hoodlums singlehandedly, I am off to the deep south this week doing training sessions in Covington, Georgia and Opelika, Alabama. (I'm sure my family in Birmingham felt my presence as I entered the state this afternoon. I bring my own gravity.)

I flew into Atlanta late Monday night, and it was a typical trip into ATL. We arrived 20 minutes early, only to find a broken plane stuck in our gate. Thus we waited 40 minutes on the tarmac in the sizzling Georgia sun with little air on the plane. Delightful. You really only get the full flavor of sweat when stuck inside an airplane.

My trip to Covington was successful, but uneventful. I did learn that the show The Vampire Diaries films in Covington on their lovely town square. I figure this means that Covington is a destination for my sister, as she's addicted to all things vampires. I deflated the enthusiasm of the individual who passed along this information by asking, "Is that something from the TV?"

After work, I drove from Covington down to Opelika, AL. Along the way, I got news from Erin that a) plumbers did a bunch of work on The Compound today, b) septic cleaners finished fixing our septic tank, c) a) and b) left big bills to pay and d) our adoption finalization is going to take longer than planned.

Obviously d) is the most troublesome item in this list. It's very difficult living with our current uncertainty, so please say a little prayer for our family. We have a lot going on, and Erin especially could use some support right now. I'm of little use when I'm home, but when I'm traveling, I'm even more useless to her.

So in an effort to relax tonight and let my head clear, I set off for the Cock of the Walk restaurant. This great little southern cooking restaurant is situated on a pond in what I'm sure was once a secluded corner of Lee County. Now it's about two blocks from "Tiger Town" -- a ginormous shopping complex decked out in full Auburn tiger gear.

As I sat and sipped my tea and stuffed my face with corn bread, fried catfish, and surprisingly delightful pickled onions, I watched as tables full of people went out to throw leftover cornbread into the pond. It appeared that I was missing some kind of ritual (and let's be honest, I'll be danged if fish are gettin' me cornbread), so on my way out the door, I stopped to look over into the pond, only to discover hundreds of turtles clamoring for the corn bread. Off to the side were several beautiful ducks, slowly choking to death on several pounds of corn bread. I strongly suspect that you could walk across the pond on the shells of choked turtles, but I didn't test this theory.

Tomorrow I do another training session, and then it's back to the Chateau du Leaks to be with my family and get through the tough times at home.

To make matters only slightly worse, tomorrow is our anniversary (the date inscribed on the inside of my wedding ring sears a little bit on the date, just to remind me.) So happy anniversary, honey. I wish I were home with you, and I hope you get a little bit of sleep tonight. G'night...

Pics

Some recent pics...

Nadia with her cousin Natalie, who is two weeks older but over two pounds smaller!

Grant and Grace hanging out at the Children's Museum! There was a new Dora and Diego exhibit. Grace--a huge Dora fan--was in heaven!

Hanging out at the splash park in Avon! Thankful to have a new hangout on a hot day.

Little Nadia sleeps... just not quite when I want her to do so.

Grant and Grace LOVE Nadia. Grant has a special place in his heart for her, and I often catch him just sitting with her. As he says, she often gives him the "love eyes."




This Friday is the big day when we will find out if we are one step closer to making Nadia Marie part of our forever family!

Leaks

One of the joys of owning a home built 45 years ago is discovering all of the quirks and intricacies of the house. Or in other words, figuring out where it leaks.

Interestingly, this is also true of a new baby. (Although in Nadia's case, it's not so much the "where" as it is "when" and "on whom.")

Last night, Erin began giving the kids a bath in our upstairs bathroom. While she went about her business of filling the tub and stripping down the tots, I was directly below her in the utility room doing laundry. As she began running the water in the tub, I began to get wet.

I looked above me to see a steady stream of water coming through the ceiling. Nicht gut.

As it turns out, the valve that is supposed to divert water from the tub up to the shower head has instead decided to take a different path in life. If you don't divert the water to the shower, it dumps half of the water into the tub and the other half on the guy doing laundry. It's a laugh a minute.

So I have a call in to a plumber this morning to tackle the handful of minor plumbing projects that need to be done on the house. I'll feel better once we get the plumbing work finished. I'm fine to tear things up, but when it comes to plumbing, it seems like if you jack it up, it will turn on you and slowly destroy you and all of your stuff.

Now that I said it like that, it seems like there are some more parallels between plumbing and children than I originally thought.

Introducing...

for the second time...
Nadia Marie (birthmom's middle name)

The Name Game

Yesterday was tough stuff. But, it ended well, and I think that's a good thing. Our birthmom is young (16) and shy, and it's been hard to kind of crack her shell, but I think I was able to do it last night as we sat around in her room watching TV and laughing. We talked about everything: from what I love about Bret (a long list) to foods I don't like (a short list).

And, then, she said it: Can we talk about the name thing? We had yet to name the baby as there has been some resistance. She admitted that she hated the name Naomi. And she said that while she thought it was special to have her first name as the baby's middle name, she didn't like that either.

Now, right now, that baby is her baby. She could name it the craziest of names because it is her choice. And, it's our prerogative to change it later at finalization if we want. But, here's the tricky part: we'd rather not have to change the name. Because, at the end of the day, our relationship with our birthmom is super important to us. And that's the beauty of domestic adoptions.

With Grant's adoption, his birthmom was a little older, a little less concerned about the name, a little more aware of the "end game," so to speak. But our birthmom REALLY cares about the name. It has been her biggest issue all along, and for months we have been dancing around the fact that she didn't like our selection.

And, to be honest, I was having some reservations about it myself. I LOVE the name Naomi. LOVE IT. But, every time I looked at that sweet baby, I'd think, "Is that right?" And, I never had those questions with Grant and Grace.

So, here it is the day we get discharged, and it will be--by all accounts--a hard day. It will be one of the most emotional days of our lives and for our birthmom as well. And, while we still don't have a name, we are getting really close. And, the birthmom is trying so hard to find one that works for all of us, as opposed to some of the more "unique" ones she had decided on long ago.

And, at the end of the day, what does it really matter? We're getting the greatest of gifts from this young girl, a girl we have come to love.

I'm so grateful for all my kids birth parents and foster parents. I'm thankful that they braved the hard road of pregnancy, filled with uncertainty. I'm thankful beyond measure that I get awesome responsibility and privilege to raise their children. These kids are twiced-loved, and their birth parents are heroic to me.

So, avid fan base (I know there is a least a grandparent or two out there), we'll let you know the whole new name soon...

The Hard Part

These few days are the hardest part of domestic adoption for Bret and for me. We sit in the hospital, often without a baby to hold, feeling isolated and alone. Don't get me wrong, it's a short wait for a great gain, but there is no denying that these days are hard. They are filled with anxiety and stress as we try to manage our relationship to our new love and the birthmom, who is often a pile of hormones and emotions as she gets ready for the hardest decision of her life. We don't doubt that her time is harder, but there is also no denying that these days here are tough stuff for us.

Add to the fact that Grant is coming unglued at the hinges at home, sobbing as he talks to me. I just want to be home with all my babies in one place.

We still expect that this adoption will work, but we have about a two week period while at home to wait...

But, while we wait, we hold on to the fact that our God is the giver of good gifts and has a plan for us that is perfect. We try--often on a moment by moment basis--to choose faith over fear.

And, we marvel at the amazing bundle of goodness we do get to love...

Introducing...

We are simply over the moon to announce the arrival of our daughter...


Naomi Sierra
born: 7:17pm, 6-4-2011
8lbs, 4oz and 21" long

Isn't she just beautiful??

The Waiting Game

Thursday afternoon, Erin and I dropped the kids off with the grandparents and boarded a last minute flight to Providence, RI. The baby is scheduled to come, one way or another, this morning (Saturday), so we wanted to be sure to be here for the big event.

We arrived late Thursday night and stayed at a hotel adjacent to the airport. We've never been in Providence, so we decided that on Friday, we would get in touch with our birth mom, and then perhaps spend a little time sightseeing.

Friday morning we got up and had breakfast at the Sunrise Cafe in Warwick. It was my kind of place. Low key. They managed to incorporate pizza ingredients and every pepper imaginable into various omelets. It was excellent.

After breakfast, we made our way up to the campus of Brown University and wandered around. Our birth mom called Erin around 11am to let us know that she was up and wanted to meetup (for the 1st time) for lunch. Erin and the birth mom have communicated primarily through texting, so an exchange to say "I'm up," "let's meet," and "see you in 30" took Erin approximately 3000 button presses and over an hour. The students we passed while walking around Brown were no doubt impressed that my wife had used her obvious technical talents to keep such an antiquated cell phone in working order.

We picked up birth mom and headed for lunch at Micheletti's in Seekonk, MA. As we approached the door to this quaint little diner, we encountered a sign announcing that the restaurant was cash only. This appears to be a growing trend in the northeast, as we've encountered it multiple times on this trip. I left the ladies and headed out in search of an ATM.

I walked across the street to a gas station and asked the attendant if they had an ATM. "Sure do. It's over there." I walked over to an ATM with a dark screen. I pushed buttons, swiped cards, but nothing. I walked back to the counter. "If the screen is dark, does that mean the ATM doesn't work?" The lady acted like my question was a crazy one and said -- "Yep, the ATM don't work." Generally there is an implication when a customer asks if you have an ATM that the ATM be functional. Gas station customers aren't usually looking for ATM parts or operating an ATM salvage company.

I ended up driving to another grocery store AND a pharmacy before I found a functional ATM. Apparently "Seekonk" is an ancient Indian word for "busted ATM." After loading up some cash, I headed back to Micheletti's for lunch. We had a very nice conversation with our birth mom, and Erin and I both felt like the relationship was going very well. I have found in these situations that my best approach is to say as little as possible, without seeming weird. The chances of something offensive escaping the corners of my mouth is simply too high in such a risk laden situation.

After lunch, we dropped birth mom off at her house, and Erin and I went out in search of a hotel. We landed nearby at a Holiday Inn Express.

Last night, desperately in need of some relaxation, Erin and I went first went for Japanese food at Tenchi Sushi. We both had great food, and it was nice to just sit and reflect on everything without having to keep Grant and Grace (who we dearly miss) from killing each other.

After dinner we saw "Bridesmaids." I think Kristen Wiig is generally pretty funny, and this movie was no exception. The theater was packed, and we actually missed a lot of the dialog because of prolonged laughter. It was just what we needed. One scene had Erin laughing so hard that she couldn't breathe. It's rare for something other than me to create a scenario where Erin can't breathe, for whatever reason, so it was nice to see her relax a little bit.

So this morning we're just sitting in the waiting room, waiting for the action to start. Our birth mom is doing just fine, and everyone is just waiting for the main event. I can't really imagine what she's going through, as these two people she just met face to face for the first time yesterday, stand anxiously at the foot of her bed with catcher's masks on. I plan to simply go where I'm told for the rest of the morning. I suspect I will act as the food runner for the rest of the day, and that's fine with me.

Leaving on a jet plane

...taking off for Providence tonight. Baby comes on Saturday or before.

Backyard Fun

Nothing like spending money you shouldn't have to...

Here is the guy digging out our septic tank under the deck... ah, fixing someone else's mistakes=no fun!

People You Know

The other night, I ate too much spicy food, couldn't sleep, and laid awake thinking about people I know who are in prison. That's right -- the slammer.

Erin and I had a conversation over coffee the next morning about the murderers who've passed through my life. At first, she didn't believe me, but I was able to quickly locate details on the web regarding several cases from my childhood involving people I knew offing other people. Some using household appliances.

This also got me to thinking about my Great Uncle Emmett. We all thought Uncle Emmett lived in some pretty tough neighborhoods as a youth. We'd sit around at holidays, listening in rapt attention to his tales of people with nicknames like Bug Legs and Roughhead, occasionally accomplices in various punishable offenses. We'd laugh and laugh as he'd move from one story about a guy in a knife fight to another story about a guy getting buried alive. Then we'd stand up, stretch, and go for more ham loaf.

At the time, I thought Uncle Emmett either grew up across the street from a leaky chemical plant or he was off his freaking rocker. But now that I think about it, his stories don't seem so far fetched. In my own relatively safe suburban upbringing, I knew several felons. In one case, a guy we knew in high school, and occasionally scuffled with, ended up murdering his own mother. Take that, Bug Legs.

I don't know what any of this really means or what it says about my upbringing. But I do feel better knowing that I'll have my own supply of stories to build on at holidays when I'm 80, just after we've polished off our traditional holiday chicken fingers and a slice of pie.

Pregnancy

I don't know what women who have bio babies feel like before the big day. Is each twinge a possibility? Is there an insane need to get things in order? Do they pack their hospital bags again and again?

We are in a strange and stressful time. We have yet to move into our house (any day now), can't find the hardware to set up the crib (but did find the pack-n-play; any bets on if we ever set up the crib?), and every single phone call feels like "the one." We have our bags packed (mostly), childcare set up, and know every possible air, car and train route to Attleboro, MA.

Last night, Grace woke up having to use the restroom, and when I fell back into bed, I was wide awake (my least favorite thing at 3 am), and soon, my mind had raced beyond my suitcase and magazines I could pick up for the birthmom to willing the phone to ring. I literally tried good ol' mind control for at least ten minutes. But the phone didn't ring.

It rang a few times this morning, each of which brings hopeful runs to pick it up before the machine gets it. And each time, it was Bret, talking to me about septic tanks, gas lines and some other nonsense about the house. I told him: no more phone calls. Unless it's good news. And good news--at this point--is a baby.

We are over the moon to hold our little one, to meet our birthmom (finally) after weeks of phone calls and texts, and to begin life as a family of 5. Now, if only we could settle on a name...

Scared Stiff

Grant called me to his room last night, screaming that he was scared.

Mommy: Grant, what's wrong?
Grant: I am scared.
Mommy: Of what? Everything is fine.
Grant: I am afraid that my brain has been switched, and I think I have the wrong brain.

How do you comfort your scared, and potentially crazy, child?

Updates

1. Congrats go to Bret's sister and brother-in-law as they welcome beautiful Natalie Reese into the world. She is so beautiful. We got to see them for a bit at the hospital last night, and we were simply amazed at how alert little Natalie was. She was so small too! We're excited that baby #3 will have a cousin so close in age!

2. We've owned the new house for less than a week, and we are already seeing big improvements. We've taken up 80% of the nasty carpets, pulled down wallpaper, taken down all the window fixtures, painted two ceilings, painted two rooms, and unpacked a handful of boxes. Here is a before picture of one of the rooms; we'll get you some after pictures soon. We had hoped to put all of our extra money toward renovations inside the house, but it looks like we might have to walk around on cement and subfloor for a bit, as we are having to tackle more outside work than we had hoped! Nothing like having your septic tank under your deck! Argh.

3. Baby #3. We continue the countdown to baby 3 (less than 3 weeks). The relationship with the birthmom continues to go well, and we are so excited to be parents to this little girl. There are some small hiccups in the legal end of it all, which leaves us with a bit more risk than we'd like, but we are confidant that the birthmom is steady in her choice.

As far as names, we continue to narrow the list. We know the baby's middle name will be Sierra, as that is her birthmom's name. Sierra is a very beautiful name, but it isn't the easiest to match with a first name. Several names that were early forerunners are falling behind (I hate to say goodbye to Eve, but I think Bret has put the nail in the coffin on that one for now). If you have any ideas, don't hesitate.

We will pack our bags this weekend, as we expect a "get your butts to Massachusetts now" phone call at any point. Now, if only I could find a suitcase and some clothes (not to mention baby things) in all of this mess!

New House

Well, we just closed on the house this morning. Now, off to rip up the nasty carpets this afternoon. Let's keep our fingers crossed that there are more hardwoods than we think! We plan on providing pictures every step of the way, more for our lack of memory than anything else, but you're welcome to join us for our very own home makeover.

Table Saw

If you have a table saw we can borrow, please let us know. We need to tackle new wood floors in the next few weeks, and I'd rather borrow than buy. We'd need the table saw around the end of the month... and for a few weeks. It'll come back to you clean and with a dinner gift card attached :).

Let us know.

Grave Digger

Our latest free outing: The Grave Digger Experience (some monster truck thingy) complete with pictures, tatoos (they promised they were temporary, but Grant still has his) and much more. The next post we'll have to write about our almost free weekend getaway, complete with pictures from the National Museum of the Air Force.