a little and a lot

The First (American) Noel

2012-01-21T18:11:00.001-06:00

An ode to firsts in pictures...

First Christmas season

First baby-sitters (for Daddy's office Christmas party)
(Thanks, Smeltzers!)

First snow
(She said it tasted like "Yum Brrr!")

First Christmas cooking with Mommy
(Matching aprons courtesy of Anthropologie & my mother's child version knockoff)

First Christmas sugar cookies

First Christmas Eve service

Cute picture. Not the first. :)

Love the One You're With: Nursery Space

2012-01-20T15:17:00.002-06:00

Betcha thought I was never coming back, huh? Well, I just need to get this off my chest: I'm finding blogging time to be sparse these days. The phrase "no time" doesn't quite fit, because I do have time. I have roughly one hour every day to do whatever I want to do without a toddler present. While I do (often, ok, mostly often) enjoy my time with my little buddy, the all-the-time-ness of stay at home mommyhood can weigh on a lady. While I wish blogging was my activity of choice in my golden quiet hour (and for some people it is), I find that a cup of hot tea and a good book top my list. (And by "good book" I mean several episodes of "Sister Wives." Haha. Just kidding. Kind of.)

But here I am this afternoon, bloggie friends, prioritizing YOU.

This will probably be in two or three parts, but I'd love to show you some special things I've done to Rhet's nursery that were pretty economical, hence loving whatcha got. (Ok, "have" for you grammar people.)

This is the view from the doorway. I took this pic during the Christmas season, so there are a few added holiday touches. Sorry if you're soooo over that. I'm not. And my confession is that the paper snowflakes are still hanging from the ceiling.

The "r" on the door was a little splurge from Anthro. Loving what I have usually includes adorning it in some way with a tiny "happy" that makes me feel...happy. :)

The colors were meant to be gender neutral, as we got started on the room before we had our referral. The grey on the walls was a Farrow & Ball (cha-CHING) color that I saw in Real Simple magazine. I went to my local Benjamin Moore store, which had a color swatch of Farrow & Ball. They color matched to Benjamin paints for me. Then I took the samples to Home Depot and got them to color match some generic and MUCH cheaper paint. Shout-out to my hubby Nick, who REPLACED the baseboards and painted them--a little detail that made the room feel so much nicer.

The curtains are homemade from a cheap white fabric Target shower curtain. I split them in half, sewed up the hems, and sewed on a border from fabric I was already using in the nursery. They are hung with...what else? Shower curtain rings. :) The curtains are shorter than I'd like, but beggars can't be choosers, and neither can people on a budget sometimes.

The tiny Xmas tree and end table were temporary for the holidays--I had to find a spot for the end table, actually, because it was displaced by the Xmas tree in our living room. A lot of things in Rhet's room are like that--"there" because that's where they fit. The cream colored Ikea chair is another example. We have no other spot in our house for it, and it ended up being nice for when Nick and I are both hanging in the nursery.

Rugs always feel like a splurge. This one was from Target and fairly inexpensive as far as larger floor rugs go. I originally felt unsure about it, because it changed the crisp grey, white, golden yellow simplicity of the room. But I settled on it for good when I decided it help to tie in the blues and greens that I can't NOT use because they are my favorites. :)

I'll talk about the crib and bookcases (on the wall you can't see in this picture) on another day. We also made some "big girl" changes after the holidays, and I have finally finished some art projects for the walls, and I'll save those for a later post as well.

My famous buddy Ashley featured my dresser makeover on her blog awhile back. It used to belong to my great-grandparents, and I was hesitant to change it at all because of the history, but my mother urged me to go for it. (The finish was pretty damaged on top, which eased my guilt.)

Ashley also gave me advice/encouragement on the paint colors/finish. I love the way it turned out! We left the inside of the drawers lined with the original paper, and we left the back untouched. (Who's gonna know...until I tell the world on my blog?)

The knobs are a happy splurge from Anthro, and they're also a bit sentimental. My friend moved to Memphis to open our Anthropologie here, and I temped for two weeks to help get the store up and running. It was a super interesting and super exhausting experience. And I made a little cashola with a temporary employee discount...voila. Dresser knobs.

When I first started looking at bedding for the nursery, I was in love with the Land of Nod. (A continuation of my Crate & Barrel love from wedding registry days, I guess.) While I ended up going a less expensive route on the bedding, I allowed myself the changing pad cover. :) We keep Rhet's cloth diapers, disposable diapers, and clothes in this dresser.

Again, the Land of Nod had my ultimate nursery dream item: the upholstered glider. I really wanted a piece of furniture that I could use elsewhere when it's nursery time was up. But I could NOT justify it in the budget.

Instead, we purchased this super cheap wooden glider from Target. The cushions were the color of the ottoman (in the doorway pic)--still need to cover that ottoman! I painstakingly created covers for the cushions out of two different fabrics. And it was true pain--those cushions were thick and running the needle through them made me hate my life. But it was worth it, because I ended up with something I loved even though it didn't start as such.

We keep the little frog fabric crate next to the glider to contain the books we've read that day/week. (Encouraging a little bit less repetition for Mommy's sake!)

The end table was another Ikea purchase that was displaced from another room. I can't wait to show you the lamp...another time!

This little munchkin has awoken from her slumber. Time to get our "zoo" on!

(Literally, we are going to the zoo. Just another reason to love Memphis--a trip to the zoo is nbd and supereasyfun.)

Love the One You're With

2011-12-06T12:46:00.001-06:00

My mom doesn't care for this Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young song because of it's flippant attitude toward relationships, but...

I think it pretty much sums up my love relationship with my little rented house.

Almost 7 years ago, I moved out of my little church-provided duplex and spent my grandmother's grad school graduation gift on the down payment of a 900 square foot, 2-bedroom/1-bathroom house in a sweet little neighborhood in East Memphis. I was dating Nick at the time, but never expected to continue living in that house when we married one day.

Almost 7 years later, we have a marriage-full of memories in our little house! I have gone through a love-hate relationship cycle with our place, and I have drawn many "We'll move out when..." lines that I have broken again and again. (We'll move out when we have two incomes--then we can afford to buy or rent a larger house. We'll move out when we get a second dog--there is NO way we could live here with two large dogs! We'll move out before our first child comes home--there is DEFINITELY no way we could live here with two large dogs and a small child!)

The house is about 60 years old. It is small and drafty. There are things about it that I abhor, things I hated and then changed, and things that I kind of like. And somehow it all pans out to a home that I have really come to love.

Why do we live here?
Our rent is the cheapest I've found.
Our landlord is a kind & generous Christ-follower.
(He lets us deduct from our rent any improvements we make to the house--how awesome is that?!)
And we don't "need" more than what we have right now.

Need:
My opinion on that definition for our family is ever-changing.

I have often battled with embarrassment over the difference in our home and those of our friends'. Years ago, I took dinner to a friend who had just had a baby. She was showing me her newly renovated bathroom and complaining that they almost put a window in the shower wall. "Can you imagine it?" she said, "A sliding window in our shower? I mean, how tacky did they think we were? This isn't a trailer home!" I smiled and said nothing, thinking of the sliding shower window in my own bathroom.

But here's the deal, people: this little house has been and continues to be great for us. It's all we can afford for now, but it's also all we need for now. Sure, I wish a lot of things were different. But then I remember Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young...

"When you can't be with the one you love,
love the one you're with."

We wont live here forever. (Well...never say never, I guess!) But I've come to cherish this little old drafty house in recent years. It is the first place we were a family of two. It is the first place we were a family of three (or five, if you count the dog-children).

Necessity truly is the mother of invention. And I'd like to start a little series showing how I embrace my "less than awesome" qualities of our little home. Some of it will be changes we've made to the house. Some of it will be changes I've made to my budget or my lifestyle or my habits. I know I'm not alone in this--surely many of you "make do" with elements of your homes as well! I figure it's time to stop pretending I'm blogging from some glamorous home from your dreams, and show the flaws of our home that I can own up to and even love!

Coming up next: Rhet's nursery!

Gratitude

2011-11-30T14:09:00.001-06:00

I love that the season of Thanksgiving and Advent are practically intertwined. I find that most years I can identify with one more strongly than the other.

Last year (and the year before), Advent was on my heart as we waited. We waited for the phone call that would introduce us to Rhet. We waited for redemption of broken circumstances. We identified with the longing for Christ's coming into the world.

It is difficult (though not impossible) to fill oneself with gratitude when you feel a longing for things to be made complete. But this year, I carry Thanksgiving into the Advent season. I remember what it felt like to wait with my life laid open to the writing of God's story...waiting for Him to write another word, complete another sentence, bring resolution to conflict. And now I resonate with the words of my ancestors in the faith: "The Lord has done great things for us. And we are filled with joy."

Rhet is entering the "NO!" phase of toddlerhood. Yay. ;) And it is hitting at the most perfect time, because (most of the time...okay, some of the time) instead of feeling exasperated at the 154th "NO!" of the day (when she really means "Yes"), I feel an overflow of gratitude. Last year, this baby girl was a stranger...today she is my daughter! Last year, this baby girl was hungry...today she is asserting her desire to choose which foods she would like to eat! Last year, we all longed for God to bring beauty from ashes...today I will rock my beauty to sleep, whispering that Mommy loves her, thanking God for making us a family.

There is the pain of "not yet" in the Advent season. But for anyone who has seen God make a new creation, there is also joy in the anticipation that (as Louie Giglio says) "it will all be okay in the end...if it's not okay, then it's not the end."

You might remember this picture:

(circa Dec 2009 from this Jan 2010 post)

Well, now this sweet girl...

...can enjoy this completed stocking:

Comfort AND joy--that's what Advent offers everyone.

The Slacker's Guide to Half Marathon Training

2011-11-15T13:44:00.001-06:00

I potentially made a very stupid decision about 4-6 weeks after coming home with Rhet. I decided to train for the one and only long distance race that I have ever run: the St Jude Half Marathon. (I'm starting to lose count, but I think I've run the half four times and the full once since 2004.)

It's not that I dislike other races...it's just that I'm poor and lazy. (Too much money and energy to travel anywhere besides Memphis for a race.) In fact, Nick thinks I'm crazy, but I would love to run the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco one day.

The St Jude half is perfect. The training season starts just as the weather is starting to cool off. It ends just as the weather is getting really cold. Perfect race day weather starts in the low-40's and finishes in the mid-50's. Plus, running for a cause (for THIS cause) is about as great as it gets.

But let's revisit the notion of my potentially stupid decision.

The half marathon sold out in July. (I was residing in a different country at the time, so I could have cared less.) Not long after returning to Memphis, I started getting the race itch. There's something about fall being right around the corner that makes me want to plan out a race training schedule. And so I did. Even though I wasn't registered. I thought to myself, I'll just train for this thing for fun and maybe someone will drop out at the last minute and give me their spot.

And then I woke up and realized that I was an idiot. Why would I do that to myself in the first months of being a new mom? The time commitment. The energy. The organization. What was I thinking?

Well, I was thinking that I love running and how it makes me feel and the sense of purpose a training schedule provides with everything in it's place and how I can indulge in a little more ice cream and chocolate milk for the sake of my caloric intake and how I don't want to lose my identity just because I'm a mommy...

Then, opportunity drove a hard bargain. My friend Martha needed to relinquish her spot and asked if I wanted it. Oh man.

So I made a decision to train like a slacker. And I've enjoyed it so much that I am going to have to give myself a serious kick in the butt to train any other way in the future.

It's no secret that I'm a slow runner. No, I am a sloooooow runner. Think of someone you perceive as being a slow runner and then slow them down about 2 more minutes per mile. I heart the distance races because endurance trumps speed. (Well, it does for a slow person like me.) I was jazzed to receive a BOB running stroller from some amazing friends at a baby shower, because I knew it finally made my slow running legit. Who's going to make fun of a slow running lady when she's pushing a stroller? Well, I'm not sure, but no one I need to care about, right?

PLUS, have you seen how awesome these BOBs are? (Beast of Burden, fyi) I'm pretty sure the shocks on my stroller are nicer than the ones on my car. We're talking smooooooth. Throw in the handlebar console add-on and I've got a place for my water, keys, chapstick, and iPhone. I kind of MISS running without it!

My Slacker's Guide to Half Marathon training entails these simple principles:
1. You are training to MERELY finish the race without getting hurt. (Save the PR for another year, buddy.)

2. Run for minutes, not miles. Hal Higdon tells you to run 6 miles, you run 60 minutes. (And if you run slow like me, you will be finished before you were supposed to be finished. Repeat after me: NOT cheating...just slacking.)

3. Here comes the beautiful part: No matter what happens, complete your entire run by running 10 minutes, walking 5 minutes, and repeating. Oh, what's that? You missed the first 4 weeks of your 12-week schedule and now you're mega-behind? Just follow my slacker plan and no one gets hurt. Jumping into a regular 4-miler nonstop when you were only running 1.5 is a quick way to get shin splints at best. But running 40 minutes the slacker way? No problem-o.

4. Don't beat yourself up about missing a run here and there. You can walk the whole race if need be. (Remember? It's for a good cause.)

Sure you're going to finish with a slower race time, but your knees will thank you for it. And c'mon...it's still a half marathon!

I am loving this year's training so much because I am really just doing what I can and not stressing about the rest of it. Rhet and I go out two weekday mornings per week and she naps while I put in my running time. (Autumn colors, cool breezes, and falling leaves--SO lovely!) On Saturday or Sunday afternoons (whichever is less busy or has nicer weather), I head out with Rhet or occasionally solo and enjoy the long runs on the Greenline. She loves to people watch and bob her head to the Nike+ music while I'm huffing and puffing along.

Last week, as I made plans for the end of the race schedule, I decided to bump my long run up from the prescribed 80 minutes to 120 minutes, since I knew the whole race was going run me close to 3 hours. Because I was slacker-running, it was doable (without injury). (And I got in about 9 miles!) This Saturday, I'll go for 2.5 hours. Instead of seeing it as this huge challenge, I'm enjoying the luxury of my free time!

So there you have it...running for slackers. Let go of your inner perfectionist and embrace what you can enjoy!

Like it's Nineteen-Ninety-Nine

2011-11-14T22:56:00.001-06:00

It was (past) time for a change. I apologize to all of you who were diehard fans of the vintage title. "Your Mom's Blog" will be changing names, but the same ole' substance is sticking around so do not despair.

And just to recap for my own dignity's sake: Your Mom's Blog was created circa 2005 when I simultaneously finished my Master's Degree AND learned from a family friend that my mother had been secretly blogging under an anonymous name. I wanted to write about my new experiences in the "real world" while also feeling a bit competitively inspired by my mother to try out the new-fangled blog thing. "Your mom..." was already an outdated phrase, I know, but now it's just prehistoric. (The Artist Who Was Formerly Known As Prince but is now just Prince reminded me that partying is different than blogging. And while I'm fairly extroverted and love a celebration, I'm not really a party girl anyways. And 1999 was kind of over-hyped in my personal life history. Sad, but true.)

I love the new blog name because it has about 1999 meanings to me. So pick the one you love and keep reading.

----------

Life in the last three months has been:

An adventure

Full of change

Flexible

But structured

On a learning curve

Fun

Even super fun

But challenging

And exhausting

(But in a good way...like a ridiculous workout)

I am looking forward to writing about my favorite things about Ethiopia (and adoption) soon--I've been collecting a mental list. In the meantime, I'm going to let you in on a little secret: I'm kind of a drama queen. (HA.) And I feel a bit of guilt over dramatically recounting the suffering and trauma regarding the huge life change we underwent over the last two+ years without giving you perspective that includes gratitude & grace. I was muddling through it all and pouring my life out in words. And now that I'm seeing redemption, I need to paint another layer on the picture.

For now, I will share that after a lot of reflection, I think the hardest part of my tough trip to Ethiopia was the fact that I became a (first-time) mother of a toddler there. (Duh.)

In some ways (in most ways?), I think it would have been just as difficult & overwhelming anywhere with any age child. The first few weeks of motherhood are pure bootcamp. You are learning to do something that requires so much more of you than was ever required before.

In other ways, to go to an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people without your own "things" and food and comforts and support systems...and sometimes without "necessities" like power and water...this made my bootcamp particularly challenging.

When we returned home to Memphis, I entered a honeymoon-like-stage in my time with Rhet. Everything seemed so much EASIER. I could go places. In my car. (And with Rhet in a safe carseat.) I could cook meals for both of us to eat. I could sleep in my own bed. (Rhet could sleep in HER own bed!) I could sit on my own fully-flushing toilet. I could drink water from and brush my teeth under the tap. I had my full supply of clothes, diapers, cups, plates, utensils, bibs...okay, you get the picture.... It was AMAZING and it balanced the tough parts of our transition home.

It was kind of awesome how the hard part would have been hard anyways, but I dealt with it in such a challenging way that the rest of the hard part seemed easy. Did you catch that? :)

The temperature was still at 100+ degrees, but I didn't care because I'd missed half the summer. Rhet was terrified of our dogs and required us to hold her every second we were at home for several weeks straight, but at least it was OUR home with OUR stuff. It took several weeks to get back to sleeping through the night, but at least those first nights with interrupted sleep were in our own bed with our baby monitor to watch and listen for Rhet.

And there were the joys of the firsts. First taste of ice cream. (Blech, she hated it.) First cupcake. (Blech, she hated it.) First fresh peach from the farmers' market. (Blech, she hated it.) Okay, well maybe it was more like the joys of the fourths & fifths. Because there WAS a first time that she did like ice cream. And cupcakes. And peaches. And watermelon--oh, her love for watermelon was insatiable. To see her clap her hands for joy with her twinkling eyes glued to that slice of watermelon. Well, it was just plain fun.

So much has morphed and changed that I am constantly reminding myself we've just been home three months. There is a LOT that I'm still trying to get the hang of. And it is physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually challenging. But I mostly feel overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude for this sweet time in life. There is a line in a JJ Heller song that I am experiencing and pray the same for you, friends: "May you see redemption on this side of heaven..."

The "Birth" Story

2011-11-10T22:54:00.000-06:00

Comparing the adoption process to giving birth is just plain unfair to both groups. (I say this light-heartedly, FYI.) I had a mental tendency to relate EVERYTHING to labor..adoption paperwork was the equivalence of labor...waiting for a referral was the equivalence of labor...waiting to bring our child home was the equivalence of labor.... On one hand, the adoption process can be just plain tough! And on the other hand, I have a feeling that none of those things is equivalent to labor. Whatever journey one takes to motherhood, there is struggle involved.

Our plane ride home with a very busy 17-month-old: In hindsight, it is my "labor experience." I dreaded it. I psyched myself up for it. It was tough. I wish I'd had an epidural. I knew that it would be over (relatively) soon. And I knew the whole thing was necessary to move forward with motherhood. This is the closest it gets to my "birthing" experience!

One thing that became VERY worth it: we upgraded to business class. It was a fraction of the cost of buying a business class ticket up front. So many people were trying to fly from Addis to DC that particular day that Ethiopian Air added a second flight/plane at the last minute. The great news was that instead of business class being the only available option (super expensive), we had the option of purchasing economy class tickets, which we then upgraded to business class (much less expensive). The not so great news was that the second flight that was added was on an older plane. So business class was a little less "shiny" and a little more old school. A little disappointing, but no biggie.

In our old-school business class, I was so very thankful for:

Extra leg room (for our busy toddler to run among our seats)

MUCH better food (a bigger luxury than you'd initially think when you consider the flight was 19 hours long!)

Less people-to-restroom ratio (see above point)

Business class lounge in the Addis airport

Ethiopian Air requests that you arrive at least 3-4 hours in advance before take-off. We arrived around 6pm for our 10pm flight. A large portion of this time is spent waiting in lines...the line to put your luggage through the xray machine...the line for the ticket counter...the line for customs. For anyone preparing for this type of trip, our Ergo baby carrier was ESSENTIAL for standing in all these lines with a toddler! After the customs line, you entered the portion of the airport that had restaurants, gift shops, and the business class lounge...which...was...awesome. A buffet of food, all types of drinks, nice restrooms, and tons of couches and chairs set up around televisions--all out of the way of the regular bustle of the airport. (Already worth the upgrade!)

About an hour before our flight, we headed to our gate, which had its own separate security line--this is the one where we had to take out our liquids, take off our shoes & jackets, etc. After getting through the long line, there was more waiting to board the plane.

We were in the very front row of business class, which (thankfully) was not full. I was super nervous about being in business class with a noisy child--I dreaded the eye-rolling and angry glares. Aside from one or two snooty passengers, most people were actually quite gracious. (Life lesson: Please, Lord, let me never forget this trip when I am the one feeling huffy about young children seated near me on airplanes!)

To say Rhet was excited about being on an airplane would be an understatement. And there was no way anyone was going to make her sit down. Which was unfortunate, because the flight attendants required us to buckle her in one of our laps during take-off and landing. That was definitely 15 minutes of torture right there, and that's all I'll say about that.

Taking off at 10pm played in our favor. We had not given Rhet an afternoon nap that day, hoping that by the time we took off that evening she would be so exhausted she'd sleep for half the flight. Rhet DID fall asleep. For about 2 hours. And then she woke up when we landed in Rome.

The return flight required refueling in Rome for about an hour. Passengers could get up and walk around, but we were not permitted to leave the airplane. During this portion of time, Rhet became good and awake.

By the time we took off (causing yet another fit due to seatbelt restraints), Rhet was ready to PLAY. Who cares if it was the middle of the night in Ethiopian time? We were in a supercool room with tons to see and do! What did we do for the remaining 15 hours of the flight? It is a haze. I know my brain is providing a mental block for my own sanity's sake. :)

I remember:

Walking up and down the aisles from our row to the veeeeeeery back of the plane to the front again. Up & down, up & down.

Refilling Rhet's plastic cup of ice in the middle vestibule of the plane over & over again.

Occasionally, a sweet flight attendant would take Rhet with her and disappear for 20 minutes at a time. In normal occasions, this would stress me out. In this occasion, it was a God-send.

And that's it. Seriously. The three of us (my mom, Nick, and I) took turns walking the length of the plane on each side with her for most of the trip. It is probably one of the least fun things I have every done, and I would prefer to never think about it again! (Sorry I'm being so dramatic, but it's the truth for me!)

We landed in DC at 8am or something like that (US Eastern time). After de-boarding the plane, we walked down some hallways to a people mover, which took us to another building, which housed customs. We stood in line and when we reached the front, we presented the huge sealed packet of paperwork that we had received with Rhet's visa from the US Embassy in Addis. The customs agent open the folder and briefly looked at the contents, then tossed the packet in a corner and waived us through.

SO anti-climactic! How about, "Congratulations on your US citizenship, little lady!" or "Wow--what a lot of paperwork--good job?" Geez. Whatever.

Next came one of my favorite parts of both trips: the bathrooms in the customs baggage claim of Dulles airport. They are so clean and awesome. After spending a month in a third world country, I could've cried as I sat on my first American toilet. I sound like a spoiled snobby brat, I know, but BOY do I love American toilets. And the changing tables! Nick and my mom picked our luggage off of the carousels while I took Rhet to get cleaned up in the bathrooms. We emerged with a new dress on Rhet and a refreshed spirit in me. (I'm telling you, those toilets are amazing. Ok, I'll stop now.)

We entered another line to re-book our luggage and check in for our domestic flights. Then we headed to our terminal. Mom and the rest of us were only several gates apart, so we settled down and partook of our first "meal" on American soil: the Starbucks Frappuccino. I had mocha coconut, Nick had double chocolate chip, and my mom had a chai latte. Rhet loved my mom's and mine, and she turned her nose up at Nick's. The girl LOVES coffee & tea. :)

Our next flight wasn't for hours, so we let Rhet run around the airport and expend as much energy as possible. Nick and my mom joyfully turned on their iPhones--alas, mine was still frozen from that very first flight four weeks earlier. (Boohoo. Poor spoiled me.)

My mom left first for her flight to Atlanta. Shortly thereafter, it was time for our next leg of the trip to Chicago. After boarding, I remembered the mostly helpful toy I brought on our trip. Ironically, I did not bring it from home--I "borrowed" it on a whim as we were leaving the guest house. It was a stack of about 5 square Duplo Legos. Rhet had taken an interest in the Legos in the last day or so before we left, and the little stack kept her occupied through liftoff for the flights to Chicago AND Memphis. Praise. the. Lord. Extra praise: by this time, it was the middle of the night in Ethiopia again and sleep deprivation finally caught up with Rhet. She conked out for the entire flight to Chicago.

We had a several hour layover in Chicago. Rhet ran around some more, played with Legos some more, and promptly spit out the first french fry she tried. She did, however, drink a whole liter of milk. Which caused a small fiasco when I took her to the restroom to change her diaper, they didn't have changing tables, and she wouldn't lay down on the sink counter, so I tried changing the diaper standing up, and she peed all over her leggings, socks, shoes, counter, and me. Oops. I stripped her down, changed her diaper, and took her back to the gate in just her diaper. We dug the other dress (from the overseas flight) out of our carry-on, and just left her bare-legged and bare-footed. My pants (fortunately) were quick-drying, and my v-neck cotton shirt by then had become a deeeep v-neck shirt. We laughed at ourselves and repeated our mantra: "This will all be over soon." :)

After boarding the flight from Chicago to Memphis, I received a surprise. Apparently I was not yet skilled in the art of putting a diaper on a vertical, wiggly toddler. It was crooked on Rhet's little booty, and she peed right out the side and into my lap. *Sigh/giggle*

(Dear North Face,

Your convertible outdoors pants/shorts are the best EVER.

Love,

A Peed-On Mom)

It was a crazy feeling, the closer and closer we got to Memphis. I just couldn't believe we were really going to be home. All three of us would walk through that front door, plop our bags down (to be unpacked several weeks later), and settle into our new/same-ole home with our...CHILD!

As our plane touched down in the land of the Delta blues (no rain), I was just filled with so much weary gratitude.

When we exited the airport, the whoosh of the automatic doors blew 100+ degree air in our faces, and I put our sleeping baby in her car seat. (Nick had forgotten to change the height of the straps on the seat, so we actually smooshed our baby into her car seat...haha.)

(We had requested no friends/family meet us at the airport, for fear of overwhelming a very tired child. Thankful we made that call, as she slept through the entire de-boarding, luggage retrieval, and ride home.)

Three months later feels like three years later. The transition has been fun, hard work, and a really sweet time for us.

Thanks for stickin' with me as I tried to get all of my memories out into the blogosphere. Adopting Rhet has been the most difficult/challenging and most rewarding/wonder-full experience I've (we've) gone through. We're pretty much "back" to normal around here now--our new normal, that is, and I'm looking forward to getting back to the new normal on the ole' blog as well. Expect some adoption/parent-centric posts along with my old familiar loves of food, running, Memphis, and pondering life. :)

How do you end such a truly epic series that changed your life? Like this. Cya. ;)

Rarely Early, Never Late

2011-10-24T21:43:00.001-05:00

So the VISA. I know, it's totally unfair of me to leave you with that cliff-hanger in a previous post and then wait this whole time before getting back to it. But this is going to be a long one, so grab your hot cider in your favorite mug and settle in for the long-haul--this is my FAVORITE part of the story!

Let me review the timeline to catch you up:
Sunday, July 3rd: My mother and I leave Memphis/Atlanta, Ethiopia-bound.
Tuesday, July 5th: We arrive in Addis Ababa and take custody of Rhet.
Wednesday, July 6th: I learn of the expired fingerprints.
Thursday, July 7th: I get my fingerprints taken at the US Embassy in Addis, while Nick figures out what needs to happen back in the States. We FedEx my completed fingerprints to Nick in Memphis.
Monday, July 11th: Nick receives my FedExed fingerprints and FedExes them directly to his contact at the USCIS office.
Thursday, July 14th: Although the fingerprints get a little "lost" within the USCIS offices, Nick's angel-in-disguise at the office tracks them down and says she'll do her best to get them processed in 24 hours. (FYI: The first time around, we had our fingerprints done in October 2009 and didn't receive our clearance until April 2010!)
Friday, July 15th: En route to Ethiopia (while in Washington DC), Nick receives word that our USCIS clearance is renewed and is being sent to the National Visa Center in the US.
Sunday, July 17th: Nick arrives in Addis Ababa.

This brings us to Monday, July 18th. The day after Nick joined us in Addis, we took a "quick" six hour trip south to visit Awassa, Rhet's birthplace. I could tell you how much fun it is to travel for 6 hours in an old van with no seatbelts, swerving out of the way of cows and goats, with your toddler demanding to take full advantage of her mobility...but instead, I'll tell you that the view out of our windows of the Ethiopian countryside was gorgeous and unforgettable. :)

The hotel where we stayed luxuriously had wifi in the lobby, and while the trip was short and busy, we took full advantage on Tuesday morning before we left to return to Addis. I learned through an email from the US Embassy in Addis (on the blessed iPad) that 1) they had received our updated fingerprints/clearance, 2) they had made note of our presence in Addis, and 3) we were not yet cleared for a Visa appointment.

This solidified my email obsession, waiting for that glorious email from the Embassy that would notify us of our clearance for a visa appointment.

We swung by the Ethiopian Air desk in the Hilton hotel when we returned to Addis in late afternoon to change our flight reservations. (We were originally scheduled to leave Ethiopia that Thursday, July 21st.) Ethiopian Air told us that all flights were booked until mid-August due to their busiest season and they could not get us on another flight until then. Feeling unsure of what to do, we let go of our seats on Thursday's flight and decided we would contact our travel agent.

When we returned to Addis Tuesday evening, I had an email waiting from the Embassy letting me know that something in Rhet's file was causing a delay and wasn't expected to be complete until August 28th.

This is a perfect example of a normal day for me in Ethiopia--great news (HOORAY!) followed by disheartening news (WHAT?!) followed by eh--let's wait and see what happens. Emotional rollercoasting at its best.

Wednesday, July 20th, Nick got the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad altitude sickness.

Thursday, July 21st, (our original date of departure, which our travel agent was able to push back one week for us) our agency told me that the document the Embassy was waiting on was complete and that the party responsible for relaying this information would contact the Embassy again.

Meanwhile, I'd been emailing with our travel agent, and she confirmed that there were no economy seats left on flights in July, but that she could get us into business class on Thursday, July 28th for an EXTRA $3,000 per ticket. *Gulp* I was starting to feel like it would cost me my first-born to get home, which was ironic because she was the reason we were there in the first place! We booked the tickets and we had until Tuesday, July 26th to confirm or change them.

We still needed to be cleared for a visa appointment, after which we were hoping that being present in Addis Ababa already would allow us to get an appointment within a day or so. After the visa appointment, it takes two business days to process the paperwork before you can leave the country, so the very latest we could get a visa appointment and keep our 10p flight reservations for that next Thursday was Tuesday, July 26th--the same day we had to confirm our flight reservations.

This was a tough part of our wait in Ethiopia, because the news and expectations changed twice a day. We can go home soon! Oh, wait, just kidding--you can go home in FOUR EXTRA WEEKS. Nick was only able to take two weeks vacation time total--he planned to spend the first week with us in Ethiopia and the second at home during Rhet's first week in Memphis. If we couldn't get out of Ethiopia by that next Thursday, then Nick was going to have to go home without us and we would have to tough it out on our own again until we were able to come home (also without Nick's help).

Well, we just prayed. Nick was sick and miserable. Mom and I were in our third week away from home. Rhet, bless her adorable heart, thought the guest house was our new home. She acted like she owned the place, literally--objecting when other guests would dig into the food left out for meals or moving guests' feet off of the coffee table. (Hilarious.)

We were just "over it." And I felt a tremendous amount of guilt. I had done this to all of us. This is not a "normal" experience of going to an Embassy appointment. I had insisted on going early to be with Rhet, oblivious to what that would require of me. I had brought my mom with me, who was taking time off of work to be with us and was now just as stuck as I was as she refused to leave me alone in Ethiopia with Rhet (for which I was grateful!). I had asked Nick to stay as long as he could and now he was laying up in bed, as miserable as I had been. I had taken custody of this sweet little girl, who had been bonding with us for three weeks and I had NO other option than to stay with her and continue waiting--nothing could be reversed! Chris Tomlin's new version of "I Need Thee Every Hour" just played on and on in my head and I prayed without ceasing that God would redeem my (for lack of a better word) "mess."

The verse that I clung to and prayed fervently and constantly was Psalm 128:4 (in the Message): "Stand in awe of God's 'Yes.' Oh how he blesses the one who fears God!"

Later that Thursday (7/21), after our agency had given us the encouraging news that the delay should be resolved soon, I received an email from the Embassy with the heading: "Faris Family, Cleared Case." We jumped for joy in that little hallway in front of the ancient Dell laptop.

There was one snag: the appointment they were assigning to us was two weeks away--on August 3rd. I immediately emailed them back and explained our situation, asking if there was any way they could get us in by 7/26. On the end of business hours on Friday, 7/22, they emailed back and said that the very earliest they could get us in would be Monday, August 1st.

We resolved to pray, be persistent, and stay optimistic. Psalm 128:4, Psalm 128:4, Psalm 128:4...

It was Friday. and the weekend was ahead of us. Nick was still feeling ill, but he braved a trip uphill (sans Rhet and my mom) to Kaldi's with me, where I thoroughly enjoyed their carmel macchiato and (kind of) french fries. (SO much better than that first trip! Ha!) After regretting the strenuous hike, Nick spent most of Saturday in bed. On Sunday, we gave it another try and we went to the swanky Sheraton for my birthday brunch (again, just the two of us). The food was delicious! I had MILK in my coffee! Chocolate croissants! Smoked salmon! FRUIT! And the Sheraton toilets...OH the toilets...

(Someday I'll post my complex thoughts on our experience in the Sheraton versus the poverty we witnessed everywhere else. But for now, I'll say that I was so grateful for this extravagant treat.)

On Monday, 7/25, I checked my email every hour. Nothing, nothing, nothing. We got out of the guest house for lunch and bravely took Rhet down the hill (in the opposite direction from Kaldi's) to a restaurant for lunch just to do something with our jittery selves. Three adults for one Rhet proved successful, and she kept us all busy enough to keep our minds off the uneventful morning. Psalm 128:4, Psalm 128:4, Psalm 128:4....! The day came and went with no news.

It seemed highly unlikely that the Embassy would give us an appointment on the day they contacted us. I awoke on Tuesday, July 26th, anxious and prayerful. I felt like Charlie opening his chocolate bar and willing that golden ticket to slip out as I checked my email that morning...but...nothing.

My mother, on the other hand, received a very important email that morning. It was from her employer, who was upset with her for being stuck in Ethiopia. He was terminating her employment. We sat there with dropped jaws in front of that old laptop with its sluggish internet, marveling at the impersonal nature of that email, the awful timing of its arrival, and I boiled inside with guilt over the whole thing.

The day droned on. No news by breakfast. Nothing by lunchtime. Every second was an hour. We were quiet and subdued as time ran out.

At 2p, with a sliver of business hours left, I began to accept that Nick was going to go home that week without us. We would stay two more weeks. I forced myself to look at the positives: We would be here for another fried fish and cake Monday (two more, actually!). At least there WAS an end date now. Now we had time to go visit the lion zoo. I guess this meant my mom had some extra vacation time. We would run out of diapers soon--a trip to the store to purchase Ethiopian Pampers would need to be lined up. (We had already done this once.) I wonder if we'd be able to get seats on a plane or if we would indeed have to wait until late August to leave. And very quickly those thoughts became little stones weighing my heart down, down, down...I sent the email to our travel agent letting her know that Nick would keep his flight reservation for Thursday, and my mother and I would need to let ours go. I checked the inbox one more time before pressing "send," but it was empty as ever. I can't believe He didn't come through, I kept thinking. My heart just deflated and sank as I realized there was no redemption for my mess.

Nick and I went upstairs to put Rhet down for her nap. We read, How big is Elmo? Sooooo big! and Hello. Howdy do, little Princess Honeydew! We sang, "Jesus Loves Me, "and "I am a Sheep," and as we started in on the Nick-n-Jesse 2011 remix of "Go to Sleep Little Baby" and Rhet fought the whole notion of naptime, I started to cry. I was completely helpless in all senses of the word. Rhet wiggled and wailed and we rocked and cried.

Downstairs, the phone rang. (Not uncommon.)

There was the sound of a muffled exchange. (Not uncommon.)

"JESS!" my mom called. I handed Rhet to Nick and rushed downstairs. I went into the little kitchen off the side of the house where the housekeepers were preparing dinner. I sat down on the little wooden chair in the corner and picked up the corded phone. It was the social worker from our in-country offices. The Embassy had called and said they could take us if we could be there NOW--they closed in an hour.

I ran into the hallway, looked at my mom, who was wide-eyed and hopeful, and I said, "Yes. YES! Get your stuff!"

I ran upstairs, where Nick was still trying to rock Rhet to sleep. "Naptime is over," I announced. "We have an embassy appointment RIGHT NOW!" We crammed all necessary items into our backpacks, grabbed the Ergo and Rhet's shoes, and rushed downstairs.

The question of whether we'd even be able to get a driver on such late notice was solved immediately. A driver was just returning from the Embassy to the guest house with some other guests. When we asked if he could take us to the Embassy, he explained that the social worker had called him on his cell phone and he was on board with the plan. Nick, my mom, Rhet, and I crammed into the backseat of his SUV, swung by the offices down the road to pick up the social worker, and we were on our way.

We stared out the windows on the 10-minute drive in shock and disbelief. It started sinking in. This literally happened in the 11th hour. This was HAPPENING. We were all going home TOGETHER in two days!

When we arrived, there was a short wait while they prepared for our meeting. I showed Rhet the American flag waiving out the window--I am not an overly patriotic person, but I couldn't stop staring at it--it looked beautiful because it looked like home. The "Today Show" was playing on the mounted TV in the corner. (I have never been so excited to see Matt Lauer's blessed face!) They called us up to the window, we answered questions and signed papers, and then we were told, "Congratulations! You can pick up her Visa on Thursday morning."

Elation and weary relief was just seeping out of us as we walked back to the SUV. My mom could not stop her steady stream of tears. Nick and I just kept looking at each other and laughing. And sweet, adorable Rhet...Little Girl was giddy over "tricking us" out of a naptime! She just laughed and laughed.

Surprised face!

It was especially then that the old saying, "God is rarely early but never late," just kept echoing in my brain. I was flooded with gratitude, humbled by this enormous and personal act of mercy. He DID come through. In the best way. I was not on my own--I never was! I truly stood in awe of God's "Yes."

Oh, and I emailed our travel agent back that evening with the subject heading: "DISREGARD FIRST EMAIL." Luckily with the time change, she hadn't even begun work that day and we were able to keep our reservations. In an extra turn of good "fortune," a second flight had been added, so we did NOT have to pay the extra $3,000/person after all! Well how about that?

The next day (Wednesday), I went back to the Sheraton and this time I took my mom. We treated ourselves to that amazing brunch and celebrated and processed all that God had done. I can never express how grateful I am for the huge step of faith, the enormous sacrifice (financially, emotionally, physically), the pouring out of herself for me that my mother exhibited. She is my very closest friend and what amazing acts of friendship she gave to me in that month! I hope I can be the same kind of mother to my own daughter.

Thursday afternoon, Nick walked down the street through a downpour to the agency offices to pick up our oh-so-precious documents. We packed and packed and packed. We tried to prepare for that never-ending flight with our busy little toddler. We tied up lose ends. And at last, the driver arrived with a quick honk of his horn. We loaded up our many bags and began our last drive in Addis Ababa.

The UnBirthday

2011-10-21T16:23:00.001-05:00

I can't wait to start sharing my daily thoughts and experiences once the overseas mini-series is complete! But alas, there is so much I want to remember about our time in Ethiopia before I move on. So please indulge me with these posts while I play catch-up!

Somewhere within my Ethiopian adventures, I celebrated my 31st birthday. My mom really wanted it to be special, but Nick was due to arrive the next day and I was just too antsy to have him there with us to think about anything else.

The day of my birthday, my gift was sleeping in. It was glorious. Thank you, Mom! I dismissed the invitation to go get a pedicure. I put off the suggestion of a yummy brunch at the Sheraton. I just wished the minutes away and, wouldn't you know, a watched clock never turns.

Because of the connections and the time changes, it takes two days to get from Memphis to Ethiopia. (We flew Memphis --> Chicago --> DC --> Addis Ababa.) Nick left on Friday, the day before my birthday, and he arrived on Sunday, the day after my birthday. My birthday just disappeared into thin air...It was a weird feeling. (I'm a big birthday celebrator, if you're not already picking up on that--ha!)

The day he was to arrive, I went with our driver (who had become kind of a buddy by then!) to the airport to pick him up. Nick's flight was delayed (about 3 hours!) so Abraham (pronounced AH-brah-hahm) and I chatted about anything we could think of. He laughed when I mentioned celebrating my birthday--he told me most Ethiopians don't know when they were born (and they think the idea of celebrating birthdays is funny). "How do you know how old you are, then?" I asked incredulously. He said, "We just guess." I asked him how old he was and he said his mother says he is 27 and his father says he's 28, so he picks 28.

Poor Nicholas, in the meantime, was on that loooong flight overseas and their flight was delayed due to someone becoming ill. The plane had to detour and land in Rome before they could make their way to Ethiopia. Hence the extra 3 hours. (When your flight is already 15 hours long, an extra 3 hours is torture!) Of course, we didn't know all of this until later--all we had to go on was the listing of "delayed" on the television screen at the airport.

Finally finally FINALLY we saw people leaving baggage claim from the DC arrival. I was SO excited to see Nick--I scanned each face quickly in anticipation, and finally the face of my best friend and true love walked around the corner and lit up in weary relief and joy when he recognized us. It was so weird to have said goodbye two weeks before and feel that we were reuniting a lifetime later with new responsibilities and life roles.

It sounds so wimpy that we were without Nick for only two weeks--I know I melodramatically make it sound like years. But it kind of felt like years. You just don't know until you know.

We spent the drive "home" just smiling each other and trying to catch up. ("Hey, we're parents now!") When we arrived at the guest house, Rhet was quiet and shy for about 5 minutes before remembering that this was the "Baba" she's been talking about for so long. (Baba means "father" in Amharic, and she had been repeating it over and over since we had been with her.) Then she proceeded to adore him exponentially.

Nick got sick with altitude sickness a couple days after arriving in ET. Same symptoms, same length of time. I selfishly felt so justified for being "normal" instead of the freakishly wimpy sickly frail person I worried I was. Even with Nick being sick, it was STILL better having him in Ethiopia with us.

Our first family pic :)

And I know you are just feeling so sorry for me about the UnBirthday, so I will ease your concerns by letting you know that we did go to brunch at the ritzy glamorous Sheraton in Addis and treated ourselves as soon as Nick started feeling better. Phew. I know you are so relieved. ;)

A Month in the (Ethiopian) Life

2011-10-12T15:11:00.000-05:00

By the end of that miraculous Saturday, I was feeling back to normal, albeit a little frail.

I was so thrilled to wake up on Sunday morning feeling well that I suggested a celebratory outing.

My original vision of my time in Ethiopia with Rhet was an open-ended amount of time in which she and I explored the city and frequented our favorite coffee shops & markets, making friends along the way.

My reality turned out like our celebratory outing:

We decided to go up to Kaldi's, which was a coffee shop that mimicked Starbucks right down to the circular green logo. We were staying at a guest house owned by our agency liaison, and while it was possible to hire drivers when going out, it required planning ahead and paying by the hour. In addition, our agency only approved a handful of locations for families to take their Ethiopian children before the adoption was completed, and all of those locations were within walking distance of our guest home.

Kaldi's was described as a 10-15 minute walk from the guest home. I donned the Ergo carrier for the first time and Rhet was amused to ride in it. We stepped out into the sunshine and ventured beyond the gate.

There was a rocky dirt road that led out to a street. (Waive to the children playing and asking for "sweeties" and watch out for the heard of goats!) After turning onto the street, we passed a mosque from which we heard the daily prayers chanted over their loudspeaker. Lots of people walked on this street and cars passed by, honking at any person or animal (cows, goats) in their way. Our agency's offices were toward the end of this street behind a bright blue metal gate. At the end of the street, we turned right onto the sidewalk of a major road. Addis Ababa is quite dusty and smoggy--this road was noticeably different in air quality. We started the hike uphill on the sidewalk, passing little shops and people selling things on blankets or begging on the street. Up, up, up we went. Finally we saw the multi-level shopping center with Kaldi's in the distance. We crossed an empty concrete lot and then an interstate-like ramp. We walked down to the end of the parking lot and [whew!] we were there.

The morning sun had been beating down on us. The uphill hike in the altitude was brutal. With a 25 lb child hanging on the front of me. We were huffing and puffing and sweating when we walked into the coffee shop.

(10 minute walk?! Ummm...I don't think so.)

We found a table upstairs, fell into a booth, ordered a latte and some pineapple juice, and shed our layers. Ahhhh.

Reality check: Little Girl was hot and tired of being in the Ergo. Her idea of a good time had less to do with leisurely chatting and more to do with running, climbing, and squealing. (Duh, Jesse. She's a toddler. How many toddlers I have I seen sitting around Starbucks reading the latest bestseller? That's right...NONE.)

While this big scene was bound to happen at some point, I did not wish for it to be in front of a crowd of quiet Ethiopians. I got flustered, realized I forgot to bring snacks or toys, felt like a dummy, and then freaked. I stuck Rhet right back in the Ergo, told Mom to get everything to go and take care of the bill, and I rushed out of there.

I was so embarrassed and tired and frustrated and dreading the walk back and feeling like a big dummy. I took it out on my mom as we headed back in the now seemingly scorching sunshine. Then I felt guilty and I apologized. We both cried most of the way home. Scarred. For. Life.

I thought I knew what the whole thing (parenting, superlong trip to third world country, being away from husband, todderhood) was going to be like...but I had no idea. I really didn't have a clue.

Being a mother required my constant vigilance and energy all the time. ALL THE TIME. Do not mistake this as a complaint--it's more of a revelation. I was shocked that the whole thing blindsided me like it did.

After the Kaldi's misadventure, until Nick arrived later in the month, I did not even dream of thinking of having the notion of doing any "fancy" outings.

-----

Instead, this is what life looked like in my Mommy Bootcamp:

Wake to the morning prayers being chanted from the mosque around 5am. Drift in and out of sleep until 6am, when Rhet wakes up in her pack-n-play at the foot of my bed.

Drowsily distract her in the bedroom for as long as possible until she inevitably voices her strong opinion to go downstairs and eat breakfast. (She likes to cut to the chase.)

7am breakfast #1 of rice cereal & bananas.
8am breakfast #2 made by the housekeepers.
(The girl is serious about her food!)

Play in common room with the guest house toys.
She started falling asleep on the floor from 9-10am.

Around 10am, go get dressed--her in a supercute outfit and me in waaay stretched out jeans and long sleeved tshirts.

(My belly doesn't show in this boyfriend cardigan, does it?)

10:30am - Head down to the agency offices to get the latest update.
Come back and play in the courtyard.

12p - Lunch made by the housekeepers or pulled out of our stash of Easy Mac, Ritz Bits, Goldfish, and Luna Bars.

Naptime lasts for about an hour while I straighten up our room and read "Hellhound on His Trail" on the iPad.

Afternoon playing in the courtyard and common room.

Dinner at 6p usually prepared by the housekeepers, if we signed up for it in the morning. Otherwise, we ate from our stash.

Post-dinner bath in the tub that we shared with most of the other guests in the house. (Ew. But Rhet didn't care--she loved bathtime. And as seen in this picture, she sorely needed it!)

Baby Mozart on VHS in the common room. Whoever left that behind: Thank you. Really. (Before traveling on our second trip, I had resolved that Rhet wouldn't watch TV until she was 2. That rule was quickly broken by this heavenly 22 minute video that glued Rhet to one place for brief spurts of time. Magic!)

Bedtime around 7:30pm. Afterwards, my mom & I watched Parks & Recreation on the iPad for an hour and then succumbed to sleep.

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Power was hit or miss, as was running water, due to rationing. Ethiopia's weather was between 50-70 that month and no heat or air conditioning was needed (or available). The power outages meant that no lights would turn on & no showers would be warm, but that wasn't a big deal during the day, and the guest house ran a generator from dark until 10pm which allowed us to use the most important items requiring electricity. Water outages only affected washing hands or showers, because we used bottled water for everything else.

Using the Internet was addictive torture. You had to wait for a connection which could take 5 minutes or an hour on an old Dell laptop. (Identical to the one I bought for grad school in 2002--ha!) Then it was only a matter of time until being cut off. Web pages took awhile to load. It was hard to be away from Nick without an easy way to communicate with him. There was no way uploading and sending pictures was an option with this connection. I used an old Nokia cellphone (again, like my phone from 2002) to talk to Nick. He had to call me because I had to get the guard at the gate to load minutes on it, about 10 minutes at a time. When we returned to the States and got our phone bill, the total was more than $600! Ka-ching!

The rainy season was such a mystery to me before arriving. From the States the previous year, I had learned that the Ethiopian courts close every year during the heaviest part of the rainy season. While July was just the beginning of the season (courts close in September), I imagined mud and muck everywhere, walking in downpours, leaky ceilings, rain boots & coats...

The reality was that the weather was heavenly! 60's and low 70's during the day, sunny and pleasant. It rained about once a day, usually during the afternoon, in a rainforest/beach-like downpour for an hour or two. Thunder rumbled and rolled like a lullaby. And my dog with storm phobia was thousands of miles away in a sweltering, dry Memphis.

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The fingerprints I had taken at the US Embassy in Ethiopia were FedExed to Nick. Meanwhile, Nick rushed to the USCIS office in Memphis and got a walk-in appointment to have his fingerprints taken. He had made a contact at the USCIS headquarters who was an angel in disguise. She promised to expedite the process to update our fingerprints. Nick then FedExed our fingerprints directly to her. She got the results in 1 business day and sent them onto the US Visa Center along with a request to continue expediting the processing. The US Visa Center then sent approval ASAP to the US Embassy in Ethiopia. And the rest will come in the next post...

The Pit of Despair

2011-08-29T15:39:00.000-05:00

Wednesday through Saturday of our first week in Ethiopia (aka: my first through fourth days with Rhet) go down in my memories as "The Pit of Despair."

According to Wikipedia, Addis Ababa (the capital city of Ethiopia) is roughly 7,500 feet above sea level. Memphis, in contrast, is roughly 400 feet above sea level. During our first trip to Ethiopia in May, the altitude did not have much of an effect on Nick or me beyond shortness of breath when climbing stairs.

I kind of have this secret obsession with Mount Everest. If I had unlimited funds and unlimited physical capacity, climbing Everest is the one thing I would do. I love to read books, watch movies/documentaries, and drool over the Discovery Channel reality series on climbing Everest. If you are at all familiar with mountain climbing (particularly the tallest in the world), you've heard of the Death Zone. This is when you reach an elevation in which the human body is not capable of living for very long. People have a very limited amount of time they can spend in the Death Zone before...well, you get the picture.

Addis Ababa is nowhere near the Death Zone (it falls about 20,000 feet short of the classification), but on Wednesday, it began to feel like it to me.

Wisegeek.com has this to say about how high altitude affects the human body:

For the average individual, awareness of symptoms and acclimatization to high altitude should be considered over 6,500 ft...If the body is responding properly to the elevation, normal symptoms such as decreased appetite, increased bladder activity, insomnia, slight swelling of hands, feet or knees, temporary breathlessness after exercising will occur. However, the effects on the human body in high altitudes that have not had time to acclimate can range from uncomfortable to life threatening...The most common condition is altitude sickness or “acute mountain sickness." Typical symptoms are...dizziness, headache, nausea, prolonged shortness of breath, prolonged fatigue, vomiting and exhaustion. In extreme cases, the subject may experience agitation, anxiety or mental confusion, lack of coordination or imbalance.

This is the part of my recounting where previous themes return:
1) I am a wimp.
2) The Secret Weapon (my mother) was indispensable during The Pit of Despair.

So it went like this: the agency rep came and dropped the expired fingerprints bomb, all the while my stomach is beginning to churn and sour. She left and I started feeling dizzy and faint. Get a grip, I was telling myself, This will all work out. I laid down for a little while.

And then I just couldn't get up. I wasn't hungry, I wasn't thirsty, I had no energy, and any movement sent my head reeling and my stomach churning. I seriously thought I had the flu.

In the meantime, um, I was a mom. And I was in the Death Zone. Okay, not really, but I was inwardly freaking out: How am I going to do this? There is no way I can take care of my baby girl! This is going to ruin our attachment plan! Nick will kill me! (And for all you "Arrested Development" fans:) I've made a HUGE mistake...

So we did what we could. My mom became Super-Nana, taking care of Rhet for most of the day. She brought her up to my bed occasionally, and Little Girl and I would lay and cuddle and giggle and try to make the best of things. I could not eat--I felt nauseated and had no apetite. I made myself drink 5 sips of water anytime I would wake up. At best, I sipped on hot broth from some instant noodle soup we had brought with us. Every other moment, I was sleeping, sleeping, sleeping. I could not get enough sleep. And between drowsy dreams, I could vaguely hear my toddler downstairs expressing opinions and crying for Mama.

And the worst part for me: as mentioned before, anytime I am really sick I usually end up crying and wishing for MY mommy. I knew I was in the deepest Pit of Despair possible when I realized that I DID have my mom, and it didn't really matter...! I was sad and sick and overwhelmed and missing my husband, and my mom just couldn't fix that. That realization REALLY had me despairing...

I hadn't had any communication with Nick yet since leaving DC on Monday. Finally at the end of the week, we figured out how to talk on a guest house cell phone. I burst into tears. "It's so hard! I shouldn't be here! I'm sorry I messed everything up!" Of course he was sweet and supportive and encouraging and empathetic. Which made everything worse. I wanted him to drop everything and fly to Addis to be with us...to be with ME. I was waving the white flag! I was a wimp who was homesick for her husband! Surrender! Surrender! But alas, the USCIS fingerprints were still expired and the problem still needed to be remedied. He was doing everything he could.

During this time period, I did get out for the purpose of doing my fingerprints at the Embassy. I faintly went through the motions, Rhet quietly in the Ergo hanging on the front of me, finishing this all-too-important task. Afterward, we stopped by the agency's orphanage to visit the doctor so we could see if Rhet's ear-tugging was something or nothing. Ear infection. Poor girl. Here I was moaning and groaning upstairs, and she had not even peeped about her monster of an ear infection.

Later that week, the same orphanage doctor actually came to the guest house to see if there was something more serious going on. I just wasn't feeling better and the longer it went on, the more I despaired. Altitude sickness, he declared. Plain and simple. Really? Was he sure? Yes, he had seen it this bad many times before. He prescribed some anti-nausea pills.

This entire time, we were alone at our guest house--we had the whole place to ourselves. It was a wonderful luxury--no one in the bathroom when we needed it, our run of the kitchen and all of the leftovers to ourselves. Quiet when we needed it quiet, and no one was bothered by our noise. On Friday, another family came in.

I had ventured downstairs that afternoon, and they introduced themselves. I felt lame, all sleepy-eyed and hair matted down in my pajamas. Shortly thereafter, I went up to our room and laid in bed.

Help, I prayed.
I really need help.
It had been my constant prayer through the week. And nothing was happening.
I was desperate.

The next day in the late morning, I laid in bed praying the same prayer.
I can not do this without you, Lord. I need you to make me well.
I can not ever imagine feeling better. I can not ever imagine not feeling overwhelmed.
I need your help.

I snuggled into my pillow, intending to sleep away all my despair and misery.
Instead, I felt restless. I could not sleep.
And about ten minutes later, all of a sudden, I thought to myself: I need to get up.

I took a shower, went downstairs and outdoors where my mom and daughter were playing.
I sat in a chair, felt the warm sun and the cool afternoon air, and I took a deep breath.

I knew the Lord was helping me.

The Secret Weapon

2011-08-18T14:11:00.002-05:00

I had a secret weapon with me on this Ethiopian adventure: my mother. She accompanied me for the entire duration of our trip, and I could not have made the journey without her.

This was the biggest shock of my trip: I was weaker and wimpier than I thought.

Originally I had planned to make this trip alone. It would be a wonderful time to soak up the Ethiopian culture and make unique memories with my brand new daughter. And while it was just that, it was also much more challenging than I originally so naively and idealistically thought.

To suddenly become the mommy of a busy, opinionated, always-moving, not-verbal-yet toddler is a culture shock in itself. To do it in a third world country, with unreliable power and water, different food, living out of a suitcase, about 7-9,000 feet above comfy sea level...is an altogether larger challenge.

Those moments that try us most often cause us to wail out: "I want my mommy!" Well, I had her. :)

The day we took custody of Rhet (Tuesday, July 5th) was "the perfect day." We brought her home, fed her lunch, and I rocked her in my arms in the hallway before putting her down for an afternoon nap. Afterwards, we ate dinner, read some books, and I put her to bed in the same way.

You will notice that most of the pictures from this point fwd (until Nick arrives) will include a very blurry Little Lady

She looked adorable in her footie pajamas. I laid on my bed, listening to the sounds of a breathing baby coming from the Pack-n-Play in the corner, and I marveled at the fact that I was the mother of this child.

With the exception of waking 3 or 4 times in the night and needing to be reassured that she was in the right place, everything was E-A-S-Y that first 24 hours. What a sweet, quiet, shy, observant gentle lady my new little kiddo was!

A quiet, crusty morning-face

The next afternoon, three things happened:

1. I learned that the child Nick and I had visited in the month of May (as well as the child I had brought home with me to the guest house) was not the actual person inside of that little girl. With a sudden turn during/after lunchtime, Rhet morphed into this adorable, wide-eyed, opinionated, wild-child with a BIG personality.

The non-stop baby babble took the place of shy side-glances. She clearly understood what we were saying to her, and she felt that her string of babble meant something to us, too. These conversations were usually accompanied by wild hand movements, the moving up and down of her expressive eyebrows, and lots of laughing. She found her own stories hilarious. (As did we.)

A multi-shoulder-shrug presented itself following questions or statements with which she disagreed or toward which she felt apathy. Example: "Do you want to change your diaper?" {Shrug, shrug, shrug} "Why don't you try this bite of injera?" {Shrug, shrug, shrug} "Please don't push the TV button--that's for grown-ups." {LAUGH, shrug, shrug, shrug}

The famous "uh! uh! uh!" toddler-pointing also introduced itself. These requests led to some sort of food about 98% of the time. The other 2% of the time, the request was to leave the bedroom in search of food.

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" {Translation: I dropped my snack cup!}

2. The second thing that happened: our agency rep came by and gave me an update. Gail sat down in the guest house living room with me and told me she had heard from the US Embassy. And there was an unfortunate surprise: our USCIS fingerprints had expired.

We did these fingerprints by appointment in the fall of 2009. I had asked our agency twice in the last six months whether I needed to update them. Each time, whomever was helping me told me it was not time to worry about them yet.

Unfortunately, now was the time to worry. But I happened to be thousands of miles from home. Oops.

This might delay things significantly, our agency rep warned. She would try to see if I could get my fingerprints done "the old-fashioned way" (with ink instead of scanning) at the US Embassy. Nick would need to get his done back home in the US, wait for my copies to be FedExed to him, and then send everything ASAP to USCIS and then on to the National Visa Center before the US Embassy in Ethiopia would clear us.

A sickening feeling coated the inside of my stomach as we spoke. This was Not. Good. This was a Big. Mess. I had failed in making adequate preparations, and now it felt like we were in over our heads.

3. After our agency rep left the guest house, I was disappointed to discover that the sickening feeling inside was only increasing. In addition to dread, disappointment, shame, and helplessness, the churning inside was being caused by something else that was about to ruin my life for the next 4 days...

The Day After Independence

2011-08-15T09:27:00.012-05:00

5 weeks before, she had walked into the visitors' room of the orphanage, bursting into tears as she saw the large amount of strangers in front of her. She calmed down as we sat on the floor with her. She let me feed her lunch. She fell asleep in my arms.

5 weeks later, I spent Independence Day on a flight from Washington DC to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia...on my way to be(come?) her mother.

Had I become a mother when I completed the mountain of paperwork for an unknown child in the fall of 2009? Had I become a mother when we were added the the waiting list and I prayed for that unknown child daily through 2010?

Had I become her mother in mid-January 2011 when I accepted the referral of that beautiful 9-month-old little girl in the picture?

Had I become her mother when I met her in the visitors' room that day in late May...or later that week when it became "legal" as our case passed court and the judge said, "She is yours."

She was ours. I considered myself her mother. I celebrated it on that certain Sunday in May. But thousands of miles separated us. It wasn't me who saw her little sleepy eyes first thing in the morning. I didn't know how she spent her days. No one rocked her to sleep. She was mine...I was her mother...and yet, in some ways, she was not and I was not...

Independence Day was spent in the air with the following must-haves for a 14-hour transatlantic flight:

Athletic compression socks (I loved mine from Swiftwick)
Camelback water bottle (to fill up more than a tiny plastic cup with water when the flight attendant passed by)
iPad with "Hellhound on His Trail" (Hampton Sides) and "Bossypants" (Tina Fey) loaded and ready to read
Ambien for the impossible feat of sleeping on a plane

We arrived in Addis the morning after Independence Day. A few short hours later, I was signing papers at the orphanage, holding my daughter in my arms as I walked out the front gate, getting into a taxi and driving away...

She was quiet, curious, and observant. I tried not to overwhelm. I spoke softly and smiled encouragingly and inwardly freaked out with joy and sheer not-knowing-what-I-was-doing-ness. I held the little girl craning her neck to watch out the dashboard, took a deep breath, and (if it hadn't happened already) in that moment, I definitely became a mother.

And Just Like That...

2011-06-20T19:27:00.005-05:00

I apologize for keeping you in suspense.

Life is like that. It just takes over without even asking. One minute, you have grand plans for the Greatest Blog Post Ever. The next minute, you're on a 14-hour flight to go meet your daughter.

This would be her.

(The daughter.)

And just like that, you're looking into this beautiful little face.

You're introducing yourself as "Mommy."

(Weirdest introduction ever.)

You're letting her chew on your watch, you're feeding her lunch, you're holding her as she falls asleep in your arms.

Just like that.

We had a whirlwind, overwhelming, fantastic, life-changing trip to Ethiopia at the end of May. We spent 2 hours every morning with Rhet, visited museums and markets in the afternoons, and attended our court date on May 27th, when a judge looked us in the eyes and said, "She is yours."

Lucky us! (We are now the legal parents of a very precious little girl.)

Lucky you! (This now begins a lifetime of posted pictures.)

I can't wait to tell you all about my trip.

But as huge life events tend to do, I am quite overwhelmed with the hugeness of what has occurred and what is to come.

I'm traveling back to Ethiopia early, to spend time bonding with Rhet & soaking up some Ethiopian culture before our embassy appointment. Nick will join us for the appointment, which will result in issuing Rhet a visa to be a US citizen, and then we will all head back to Memphis together. The journey to bring Rhet home starts July 3rd, and we're hoping to come back as a family of three by the end of the month.

Until then, I'm taking deep breaths, enjoying my last days in my child-free marriage, and nesting like a mad-woman.

And eventually, I'm telling you about the trip that changed my life.

Until then, check out this little piece of joy:

Words are Overrated

2011-05-13T17:22:00.003-05:00

Guess what...

We got a court date!

It's Friday, May 27th!

I've been trying to find the time to tell you creatively, but I couldn't!

So I'm just blurting it out!

Everything I say these days has exclamation points!

More to come!

I Can't Spell Focaccia

2011-03-29T16:23:00.007-05:00

According to Wikipedia, focaccia is a flat oven-baked Italian bread, which may be topped with herbs or other ingredients. Like awesomeness.

You all know I like food. Good food. And this is it, my friends.

I can hear your protests, because they used to be mine:

"I can't bake bread--anything containing yeast is too tricky."

"Homemade bread is too time-consuming."

"My bread-making attempts don't come out right."

Those days are g-o-n-e. (If you have a mixer with a dough hook.)

This recipe comes from this book from Williams Sonoma: "Family Meals" by Maria Helm Sinskey.

(Am I allowed to share your recipe, Maria? I sure hope so...I have slightly changed the wording in the instructions in the interest of personalization, and I'll hope that keeps me safe!)

I have the great fortune of living in the near proximity of a Williams Sonoma Outlet, where I purchased this book for 60% off. Na na na boo boo. It's worth the full price in my opinion, though.

So without further ado, here's the first recipe I tried and continue to make over and over due to the fact that it tastes like the "comfort food" section of Heaven. I promise that if you follow the directions (and are friends with your oven), you will have guaranteed success. It is only time-consuming in the sense that it's a lot of start & stop. But if you'll be home for most of the day, give it a whirl--you'll find it's super easy to make!

Fresh Rosemary Focaccia

1 Tbsp active dry yeast

1 1/2 cups warm water (105 degrees F/40 degrees C) *

1 tsp sugar

4 1/2 cups all-purpose (plain) flour, plus more if needed

2 tsp kosher salt **

3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 1/2 teaspoons coarsely chopped fresh rosemary

3/4 teaspoon coarse sea salt ***

* The temperature given here is the golden ticket. I use a stovetop thermometer stuck under the faucet to show me it's at 105, and then I fill up my measuring cup. Instant success!

** In my opinion, iodized table salt should be banished from planet Earth. Just needed to say that.

*** You might be tempted to use kosher salt in place of sea salt. Don't.

Instructions:

Part One: Yeasty Substance

Wait time after completed: 15 min

This is the trickiest part, which is not at all difficult!

In a small bowl (I use glass), sprinkle the yeast of 1/2 cup of the water. Wait a few minutes (until the yeast "blooms" or starts looking bubbly/creamy), then whisk until smooth. Whisk in sugar, then 1/2 cup of flour until smooth. Cover with plastic wrap and put in a warm spot (I put mine on top of my stovetop/oven) until the mixture bubbles, about 15 minutes.

Part Two: The Mixer

Wait time after completed: 2 hours

In the bowl of your stand mixer, stir together the remaining flour and salt & make a well in the center. Pour the yeast mixture into the flour well, and then pour in the remaining water and 1/2 cup of the EVOO. With your dough hook on the mixer, knead on medium speed, adding more flour to reduce stickiness if needed, until smooth 8-10 minutes.* Shape the dough into a ball, place in an oiled bowl (I use a metal bowl for this part), turn the ball to coat with oil, cover tightly with plastic wrap, and let dough rise in a warm spot (again, stovetop/oven) until doubled, about 2 hours.

* I find that "medium" on my Kitchenaid mixer is probably more like a "3." When mixing, I used to stand over my dough over-protectively and toss flour and EVOO at it the second I saw any changes. Recently, I figured out that it doesn't need any additions and I can leave the room and let it knead for about 3 or 4 minutes and come back to find it all ready to go. (I don't think 8-10 minutes is necessary for my mixer, but to each his own!)

Part Three: Preparing the Pan/Dish

Wait time when completed: 30 minutes

Lightly oil a 9x13 inch baking pan/dish. (I use a glass dish, which I rub EVOO onto with a paper towel.) Punch down the dough in the bowl (I can't wait to let Rhet do this part!), then transfer the dough to the pan. Push the dough around, stretching it to fill the pan. Drizzle the remaining EVOO over the dough, then sprinkle evenly with the rosemary and sea salt. (I HAVE used dried rosemary in a pinch, but fresh is yummier.) Cover with plastic wrap and let rise in a warm spot for 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Part Four: The Part Where Your House Smells Amazing

(Takes 30 minutes or less)

Bake for 10 minutes. Reduce the temperature to 400 degrees and continue to bake until just a little golden brown on top, about 20 minutes. (Keep an eye on it and know thy oven!) Let cool in the pan for 15 minutes before serving. (But who are we kidding--no one does that!)

"Round Here, She's Always on My Mind"

2011-03-28T16:06:00.003-05:00

Counting Crows lyrics make the best subject lines, dontcha think?

So things are a little jumble-y around here lately. Here's the lastest, in true jumble-y fashion:

The world of Ethiopian adoption is extra crazywild right now. Thanks to any/all of you who signed the Joint Council petition. Nutshell update: A particular government agency responsible for writing a letter that allows families to pass court has reported that they are decreasing the number of letters they write per day from 50 to FIVE. There are currently about 1,000 cases "in process" right now, which includes everyone from time dossier was submitted to ET up until they pass court. Which means...that includes us. The rumors are that this could cause delays of roughly one year.

Joint Council's website has recently been my go-to for up-to-date information regarding all of this.

What does this mean for Rhet and our family?

We don't know.

That is tough. But it also just is what it is.

(Proven fact: HATING that phrase does not will it to be untrue.)

Please pray for all of us as we wait, wait, wait...

Our lead pastor (Bryan Loritts) at Fellowship Memphis has been BRINGING IT. (Ok, he always brings it. Just listen to him--you'll see.) Last week, Bryan talked about how following Jesus invites tension into your life. Something clicked for me. I understand that following Jesus and what He calls me to do requires sacrifice. But knowing that and experiencing that are two different things. And I'll tell you what happens when you experience that: tension...with yourself.

New-Almost-Momma-Jesse says to Christ-Follower-Jesse:

"WHAT THE HECK are you doing, girl? You have friends who have birthed TWO babies in the time it's takin' you to get to one!"

"This is UNFAIR. You are just trying to do what God wants you to do. Why should you suffer?"

"This was a bad decision, because this is hard."

Dare I say I felt comforted (and of course challenged) during Bryan's sermon, because he told us that if we are not experiencing tension in life, then we are not following Jesus closely enough. The tears flowed (well, of course, it doesn't take much these days) as we worshipped because I realized that dying to myself...hurts.

Just because something is difficult, doesn't mean it isn't right.

Taking up my cross these days means prolonged labor.

It means days, months, and years of waiting.

It means blocking off a season in expectation of preparing, traveling, snuggling, rocking, feeding, delighting...just to end up watching Netflix movies every night on the couch instead.

It means not knowing.

It means I'm doing all of this not just for an 11-month-old baby girl, but for the One who gave her life.

"Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it," Jesus promises. This is what it means to be "hidden in Christ." To know that your life is lost in Him. I have lost my motherhood in Christ. But to know that my motherhood will be found in Him--I can't think of a better gift to give our daughter.

Please Help

2011-03-08T18:10:00.003-06:00

Please take 30 seconds to sign Joint Council's Emergency Campaign for Ethiopian Children petition, found here.

There are some huge decisions being made right now that will impact Ethiopian adoption. Please play a part in that decision. My family and many others thank you!

Hug an Adoptive Momma

2011-03-03T11:30:00.002-06:00

In these past few weeks, my changing era of life has gotten the better of me.

Nothing is certain. Everything is unknown. Some things will change, and some things won't--but who's to know the difference right now? I MUST be prepared--whatever THAT means!

These are things that are true of ALL parents, no matter how they get to parenthood.

{Right?? Feel free to gratuitously heap on reassurance and encouragement...}

These changes, these worries and wonderings, they affect my mind and heart. And I find myself, though un-pregnant, with "mommy brain." I promise that three separate times last week I looked for my phone in my house for at least 15 minutes only to find it already in my purse or pocket (once in my hand). I can no longer watch a television show or movie without crying at least once and most likely multiple times. (Um, I cried during "Modern Family" last night.) The smallest ordeals overwhelm me.

I know what isn't, but I know what is.

What isn't = preganancy-induced hormones

What is = new mommy stress

Don't think I'm all craving pickles and ice cream over here. But I have felt like a crazy person, and I am pretty sure it has a source...

I struggle. Because I am feeling it inwardly but not showing it on the outside. If I was pregnant and very close to my due date, I would get EVERYONE'S grace. "Oh honey, bless your heart." "Don't lift that, darling, just put your feet up." "Don't worry about that, dear--you have a lot going on." Now, I know pregnant women get their fare share of UN-grace-filled comments. But I've got a point, right? Nothing about me says "handle with care." It's hard to remind MYSELF!

"Now is the time to give yourself a little grace," friends have said.

However. This is more difficult than it sounds...

Take Monday, for example. Givin' myself grace = abstract idea that I was totally on board with. In the meantime, I make plans to take a meal to a family from church. Homemade Chicken Pot Pie (one of my faves). Never mind that my work shift has started and I finish at 6:30p. Never mind that I have an Adoptive Families Group at 6:30p. Never mind that I don't even have all of the ingredients to make CPP.

I finally come to realization that the CPP will not work. I flip plans...I'll make a homemade pizza. Nick brought a crust home a few days ago. I need pesto, but other than that, I'm good.

Nick calls from the store on the way home from work. No pesto. Okay, let's go with basil and I'll make some modifications. I frantically pull out the pizza crust, because (as usual) I am running behind schedule. The crust has completely hardened. No good. And now we're late for our Adoption Group...Tears, shame, more tears, snot, completely overwhelmed.

Why did I do that to myself???

I am beginning to realize that giving myself grace would have meant making the decision to pick up take-out on the way there in the first place. Sure, I could have made a rockin' Pot Pie, but now is not the time...

So, here is the new & improved Jesse Faris Grace Plan:

* I will not (cannot) neglect my time with the Lord every morning. This is my precious chance be filled daily by God's Spirit, which is air and bread and fuel.

* I will take the easiest route for now (simplify!), even if I know I could do it "better" during a different season of life.

* I will cry freely without shame. New moms and mommas-to-be cry all the time.

* Before taking on a project, I will ask myself: "How many small parts can I break this into?"

* I will do one thing every day that I truly enjoy. (Read with a cup of tea, go for a run, listen to good music with good headphones, bake something delicious.)

So, what am I missing?

Did you ever feel this way--what did you do?

If ever there was a time to comment, the time is now...!

The "Perfect" Cookie

2011-03-01T15:06:00.006-06:00

You are about to receive a wonderful treat from me today.

It is a cookie recipe that is near and dear to my stomach.

Recently, I put this recipe to use as part of a baby shower hostess gift.

I so, so wish I had taken a picture, but alas--I failed you my bloggie friends.

Instead, you will have to use your imagination...

I was looking for a hostess gift that was fairly inexpensive (as I needed many of them) and thoughtful, but not "cheap." I love to cook & bake, and I ended up on the tried and true gift of baked goods. First, I came up with a very fancy and beautiful cookie--it was a shortbread raspberry/cream cheese cookie that looked like a jellyroll that had been cut into tiny pieces. I had never made it before, but I loved how dainty it looked.

Just as I was pulling out the ingredients to make the fancydainty cookie, my heart pulled in another direction. And I pulled out this favorite recipe instead...

I read about this cookie in the New York Times. Ruby et Violette's chocolate chip cookies, which they entitled "Perfect" cookies, were oh-so-buttery-and-delish. I had made them awhile back, and then the recipe became buried in a stack of papers. Recently when cleaning out the nursery, I found the beloved recipe once again! (And good thing I had saved it--it is no longer printed in the NY Times! However, it can still be found in a summarized version at Chowhound.)

I baked the cookies, and put them in pint-sized canning jars, with a swatch of fabric from Rhet's nursery under the ring. On the label, I printed "Thanks for blessing our pint-sized sweetie!"

Voila! A gift I could be proud of! Three friends have asked for the recipe, and two people have said it is their favorite new cookie--I think it was a success!

Now that I have you chomping at the bit to try them, without further ado I present to you:

Ruby et Violette's Chocolate Chip Cookies

(Notes added by Yours Truly)

Ingredients:

2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup packed dark brown sugar*
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract**
4 cups semisweet chocolate chunks***

* It's okay if all you have is light brown sugar--the cookies will be a butter yellow color (instead of "chocolate chip cookie" color, and they will be just as delicious.

** Quality matters, people. Use the best vanilla you can find/afford. I like using organic eggs & butter for this reason, also.

*** I echo the quality matters mantra when it comes to chocolate. (That is an understatement.) Here is my favorite for this recipe: Ghirardelli's Milk Chocolate Chunks. Ghirardelli's are my fave chocolate chip of choice--nice and big with a fabulous taste. The milk chocolate is unexpected in a chocolate chip cookie, but I love the way the creaminess blends with the buttery taste of the cookie. Trust me. As far as using 4 cups--that's up to you. I have used less when I'm running short--depends on how chocolatey you want your cookies.

Instructions:

1. Cream butter in a large bowl until fluffy. Add sugars & beat until light & fluffy, about 4 minutes, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, until mixed.

2. In a separate bowl, mix flour, salt, & baking soda together. Add to butter mixture @ low speed until just combined & add vanilla. Beat on medium speed. DO NOT OVERMIX.

3. Add chocolate chunks & mix. Refrigerate batter until cold.

(This is what is fabulous, because you could whip up a batch of dough and make a few cookies at a time if you'd like. The goal is for the dough to be hard when you're scooping & putting on the cookie sheet.)

4. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line baking sheets with parchment. Drop heaping spoonfuls 2 inches apart & bake, turning tray once. Bake about 9 minutes. Cool.

Grace, Gratitude, & Gift-Excitement

2011-02-24T15:58:00.017-06:00

Thanks for "listening" yesterday. Something I've been thinking about since posting: there are similarities between ALL first-time mommies, no matter how we're getting there. Perhaps I'm struggling with "adoption brain" along with my normal new-parent worries. Perhaps most people worry about balancing their jobs with parenting responsibilities. Perhaps these recent grey & rainy days are affecting me like they usually do.

Time to give myself a little grace.

(Future post to come on what that looks like and how it's workin for me.)

I was reading in John 2 this morning about Jesus turning water into wine at his friends' wedding. It reminded me that God cares about my celebrations in life. These times can be stressful with all of the bustle and trying to make ends meet. But Jesus provides enough to celebrate fully. He sustains the joy. For that, I feel extreme gratitude.

Speaking of which, we have been the recipients of so much generosity recently! This little house is starting to look like a little girl will live here soon! Some dear friends threw me a baby shower this past weekend, and Rhet is going to be living large!

Thought I'd share with you a few items friends have gifted us with over the past several months that I can't wait to use soon:

Britax Roundabout Carseat

Super pumped about this sucker. Nice and girly for the little lady, but I can easily put a cover on it for future boy-child if necessary. Not that that matters--picking out a carseat totally reminded me of choosing running shoes: looks don't/can't matter. Everything I've read about this car seat has been positive. This is a small bonus I get to adopting a child who will be at least 12 months old by the time she comes home--no infant carrier systems! Convertible carseat was the only box to check...lucky me. :)

I know not everyone finds the need for the backseat mirror, but I am going to use one--something about not knowing what Rhet's little face looks like (is she sleeping, happy, mad?) back there is unsettling. We have an Eddie Bauer puppy dog mirror that will do the trick and will keep me in the know.

Fisher Price Space Saver Highchair

I originally registered for a super-cute girly version of this high chair. However, using a giftcard to purchase it at the store gave me the presence of mind to choose something a little more gender neutral. So thankful for that revelation of future-mindedness, as the blues, greens, & browns in this chair actually "fit" with our dining area and blend in with the background. This chair was in the "save" category, and I am loving it's simplicity.

I should also mention that I am a huge fan of all things Munchkin. They totally reel me in with their modern feel and creative ideas. Snack bowls with flexible openings for little hands, spoons that change colors when they're too hot, little mesh holders to aid in eating risky treats (like grapes) = sign me up.

We're also going to be using bottles in the morning and evening to aid in attachment to our little cutie-pie. (Posts on attachment in adoption to ensue, I'm sure. But if you're curious, check out this book and this book!) Bottle of choice: Avent. However, solid foods are on the menu for most of Rhet's day, so she's now the proud owner of some cute plates. bowls. & spoons as well.

Moby Wrap

Have any of you used a Moby Wrap? Have any of your HUSBANDS used a Moby Wrap? Carriers like this are supposed to be great for attachment, and I am very excited about how comfortable this wrap looks. However, while this was a "save," I'm wondering if we also need to purchase a carrier in the "splurge" category (Baby Bjorn or Ergo Baby) for the fact that it looks a little more acceptable for a father to be wearing it. I know I'll be loving this for home use, but I wonder if the structure of a pricier carrier might be worth it. Thoughts?

Okay, I'll end with 2 splurges and a simple save:

gDiapers

Oh yes, my friends. I will be delving into the world of cloth diapering soon. gDiapers are our weapon of choice, for three reasons: 1) Their hybrid flexibility (you can choose a flushable insert or a cloth insert), 2) Their reviews & customer service, & 3) They are so dadgum cute.

Our first shipment of Rockin' Green laundry detergent is due to arrive any day now, after which you'll get my run-down on the mysterious and intimidating world of cloth diapers made simple.

This is a splurge AND a save. Up front = splurgin' it. But in the long run, I am super pumped about doing the laundry instead of zipping that debit card over and over and over.

BOB Revolution

I see more marathons in this momma's future! I am super-psyched (yeah, I just said that) about this guy. SUPER easy to break down, set up, and roll along. In the past, I've just been a slow runner that can run long. NOW, I can can look respectable running long with a stroller--that looks hardcore! :) I'm excited to get to share my hobby with my daughter--maybe when she's big enough, she can run next to me instead!

Here comes a save that every household with a child should have:

I. Love. This. Book. It was my childhood favorite, and I'm so happy it's still around. I found it hilarious to rebelliously turn the pages as Grover warned me about the monster on the last page. At the end of the book, well, I won't give it away, but things aren't as scary as Grover thought.

I'm kinda hoping parenthood is that way, too. ;)

Confessional

2011-02-23T14:27:00.003-06:00

I feel like Usher: "This is my confession..."

(The similarities pretty much end there...)

So here it is: I feel like the most self-absorbed person on the planet. For some reason, "life with Rhet" consumes all of my thoughts these days. Worrying that I won't have what it takes. Excitement about the adventure ahead of us. Nesting, nesting, and more nesting--making sure we are "prepared," whatever that means!

Friends call, I think fondly about calling them back, and I go about my business.

Friends email, I imagine my response in my head, and the email slips to the bottom of the inbox.

And in the meantime: obsessing, day-dreaming, worrying about "Life."

What in the world? Is this some kind of pre-motherhood phase???

To my real-life-buddies: Please please forgive me for my absent-minded egocentrism! Hopefully I'll recover soon?

Let's all take a deep breath and remember: it's February. We all know the gigantic dislike I have for this current month. But there's another layer this year. One moment I'm blissfully staring at Rhet's picture, imagining us rocking in her glider. The very next moment, I feel overwhelmed by the sheer terror of the expense of children's necessities. Then I feel jealous that others have court dates while we're still waiting. Then I feel panic that everything is about to change and I'm not taking advantage of the wait to appreciate my current stage of life that is slipping away.

Looming in my thoughts is a Large Worry: What if I lose my identity to mommyhood? How can I spend my entire day devoting myself to caring for the needs of the cutest girl on the planet and expect to retain any aspect of my former self?

Fear of The Unknown is living large in me right now. In the background, things are not perfect in our preparations. There are snags and glitches and things to think through. I busy myself with anything I can control--assembling the high chair, figuring out the cloth diapering system, doing hours of internet research on the best diaper bags.

I know blogs are supposed to show the shiny side of life. And this one does on many occasions. But things are feeling a little Februaryish around here lately, and I can't help but wonder if anyone else has experienced the euphoric dread of impending parenthood?

Friends who have been there: What are the most important things to be doing, thinking before Little Girl comes toddling into this house? What is happening to me? How did you/do you handle the overwhelming parts of preparing for parenthood?

Even Katie Couric has sought some wisdom for me. After she asked for parenting questions last week on Twitter for an upcoming interview, I tweeted the Big Worry. Check out the outcome here. (Thanks, Katie--you've always been there for me. I miss you on Today.)

Movin On Up/Forward!

2011-02-11T12:17:00.004-06:00

Got some happy news today that our case has been submitted for court.

We were expecting that to take up to 6 more weeks, so it was a nice surprise!

We should receive a court date assignment (our first time to travel) within a few weeks.

Hey, little toddling baby girl...we're coming to see you soon!

Watch Out World...

2011-02-10T17:14:00.002-06:00

...homegirl is WALKING!!!

We received pictures of our little lady today from a sweet family who visited Rhet's orphanage this past week. We gasped when we opened the images--she was standing with shoes on!

She looks like she just woke up from a nap in the photos--solemn and a little bewildered. She's wearing a little dress with tights, and her hair has grown--they had wrapped a fabric hair band around a liiiiiitle patch of hair in the front middle. She has her right fist closed (around a snack??) and her left hand is daintily stretched out to the side for balance.

I'm thinking I should TOTALLY enter her in the next Cutest Child contest that comes along. This is one proud momma!

Redemption

2011-02-02T12:17:00.005-06:00

Life is happening at warp-speed around here. Many people have asked, "Is the wait more difficult now that you know who you're waiting for?" Everyone is different, but for me the worst part of the wait (so far) was the unpredictable period of time in which we were just asking God to use us. It's difficult to respond to God's call on your life only to be met with waiting. Now that we see Rhet's face everywhere we go (literally--her pic is posted all over our house, in frames, on the fridge, on the nightstand, on the desk, on our phones...!), it gives us the opportunity to pray for her specifically, to daydream about her specifically, to know that one day not too far into the future, she will be toddling around our house with that bright smile on her face that lingers on the back of our eyelids.

So, in a way, it is easier. All of the paperwork, all of the waiting, all of the praying....was for her! A few more months, while it is tough knowing she's keeps reaching new milestones without us, is NOTHING to me compared to that long, unpredictable stretch of 11 months between our DTE ("dossier to Ethiopia" date) and our referral. Because of the type of adoption we were pursuing, we expected a very short wait...after about a month we were told about 1-5 more months of waiting could be expected...and we didn't get that precious call until 5 months after the first 5 months!

About a month ago, I wrote about Psalm 130:7 and the hope that it brought me:

"Put your hope in the Lord,

for with the Lord is unfailing love,

and with him is full redemption."

I rejoice in that verse. While we plan to keep Rhet's birth story private (personal details for her to share with others later if she chooses), I can tell you that all of those months we waited and the events that were unfolding in our life and in hers...God has fully redeemed them. I personally don't believe He was making events happen, but I do believe He was actively at work bringing redemption and healing to a broken situation. I am so thankful for the way He weaves stories together...

He bestows on us a crown of beauty instead of ashes...

the oil of joy instead of mourning...

a garment of praise instead of despair...

We are "oaks of righteousness," and he has planted us to be a "display of his splendor."

(Isaiah 61)

Ashes, mourning, despair are all too present in this world and in our lives. I am so thankful for the Lord's full redemption that brings beauty, joy, and praise in the aftermath.

If you have some time, visit my buddy Tesney's blog today and spend a moment rejoicing in the beauty, joy, and praise in her family today. Their long journey to adopt a child with Downs Syndrome from Russia has been filled with opposition and heartache as they most recently waited for a judge to change her mind and decide that they had pure motives for their desire to adopt a child with DS and that the child deserved a loving family. Today, God has wrapped Tesney in a garment of praise and His splendor is on display in a big way.

Adoption is mourning, grief, and despair. But it is also redemption, joy, and beauty. It is both, and that is enough to break a heart wide open. He can make all things new.

"I delight greatly in the Lord;

my soul rejoices in my God...

For as the soul makes the sprout come up

and a garden causes seeds to grow,

so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness

and praise spring up before all nations."

(More Isaiah 61)

Nursery Sneak Peak

2011-01-28T13:13:00.003-06:00

While we wait to be assigned a court date (AKA: trip to Ethiopia #1), we're having oh-so-much fun getting our home ready for Rhet. We made the to-do lists (#1: babyproofing!), and the nursery is now getting all of the fun little details that we waited to accomplish.

(The blog is getting a little polishing as well. The next pic featured on the banner with be Miss Rhet herself!)

One of my besties from college is a super-fun, super-talented blogger. I'm flattered to be featured on her super-famous blog today--check it!

Year of the Faris

2011-01-20T16:06:00.008-06:00

It all began with that impressive Trivial Pursuit win in the first hour of the New Year (after trailing behind with one chip in the previous hours).

Then, this happened the following weekend:

Yes, my friends. It is the Year of the Faris.
If you have any doubts, the morning of Thursday, January 13th, 2010 will win you over for good...

We had celebrated the Auburn victory on Monday, driven back through the frozen tundra on Tuesday, made a feeble attempt to catch up with life on Wednesday...

Thursday morning, shortly before 8am, my cell phone rang its default "You say goodbyyyye, I say helloooooo, hello hellooooo..." (Beatles, of course). Fumbling for the phone with sleep in my eyes, I read "Blocked" on the caller ID.

"Hello?" my crazylady sleepvoice answered.

"Hi Jesse! This is Erin! I think you know why I'm calling...!" our adoption coordinator's voice rang through my brain.

Referralday referralday referralday...

My brain was like that dog in the Kibbles-n-Bits commercial, just repeating over and over...

Referralday referralday referralday!

"Referral Daaaaay!" I opened the door to the bathroom and yelled to my showering husband!

"Aughhhhh!" he yelled.

The dogs barked.

Erin laughed.

She gave me a bit of information.

Nick joined me at the computer.

And we opened that glorious email together.

Sleepy-eyed & overjoyed in front of the computer

30 minutes later, we called and accepted the referral for our DAUGHTER!

She is 9 months old

16 lbs

27 inches

She can sit up, pull up to standing, and crawl

(Lord, have mercy!)

We will call her Rhet.

(All other identifying information, including pictures, must be witheld until we pass court. Sorry, internet buddies!)

Speaking of those pictures...goodness gracious, she is the MOST BEAUTIFUL THING ON EARTH! She's a smiley little cutie with big eyes and 3 bottom teeth showing in one of her pictures.

Thursday, January 13th was filled with:

Phone calls, texts, video chats...

A yummy lunch at Abbysinia (Memphis' delish Ethiopian restaurant)

Printing 20 copies of her picture to plaster around our house

Prayers of humility, gratitude, and joy

What happens now, you ask?

Well, our case will be submitted to court.

Then, we'll be issued a court date.

We will travel to Ethiopia for the court date.

When we pass court, that will signify that we are the legal parents of Rhet.

(Then we can go crazy sharing her cuteness with the world.)

We will wait to be issued an embassy appointment.

We travel to ET for the embassy appointment, be issued a visa allowing Rhet US citizenship, and then we'll bring her home to Memphis.

WHEN will that happen? Well we all know better by now than to ask such specific questions. ;) We're "hoping" for a March/May combo, but we shall see! ("Definitely" and "surely" are no longer words in our vocabulary!)

In the meantime, we are just completely over the moon for this sweet little girl, and we are biding our time in the "nesting" process. We began saving for this adoption in the fall of 2008. We began our homestudy in September 2009. We then waited 11 months after our dossier was accepted to see Rhet's adorable little face. A few more months is NOTHING, people! ;)

Please join us in praying for our baby girl--for her body, mind, and heart to be nurtured while we wait to bring her home...for the rest of this process (completely out of our control!) to run smoothly and quickly. We are so thankful to God for His everlasting patience that He continues to share with us--"strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord!"

Ever 2 Conquer, Never 2 Yield!

2011-01-10T14:22:00.001-06:00

These Auburn fans tried to secure a trip to AZ shortly after the SEC Championship win, but the overbooked flights, kajillion dollar tickets, and limited vacay days put us in a bind.

When life gives you lemons, you know the only thing to do is head on down to Toomer's for some lemonade. So...we did!

We headed straight over to the Auburn Arena Saturday night to scope out seats for viewing Monday's Big Game while watching the AU/LSU basketball game. While there, we learned of AU's cancellation of all Monday events due to the threat of winter doom & devastation.

More lemonade, please! ;)

The "official" celebration may be cancelled, but the Auburn Spirit is alive & well down on the Plains! Our hotel has gone all out--balloons everywhere, a gingerbread Samford Hall & Jordan Hare Stadium in the lobby, and a gift of orange & blue M&M's & toilet paper for tonight's celebration waiting outside our door!

Alas, nothing but cold, wet weather in Auburn today. That doesn't dampen the orange & blue mood in the slightest--Cam Newton is even in the AIR in this Loveliest Village! (Check out the temp at Toomer's Corner!)

We bundled up and took a walk around campus before lunch today. I recently read in Real Simple that breathing in cold air can make you happier. Or is it just being in parAUdise?

As Samford Hall struck noon, the fight song chimed proudly across campus.

After all the nostalgic shivering, we're warming up with some good ole' Veggies To Go. In Auburn, banana pudding is considered a "veggie." :)

Tonight's menu is Duck Wings & Duck Nuggets w/ Cammy-Cam juice at the ACSC. We may not have seen any white stuff this morning, but it'll be flying in the trees tonight!

I'm Walkin' on Sunshine

2011-01-07T10:20:00.001-06:00

Little Mosey is a sun fiend. During the winter months, he will seek out the smallest patch of sunlight and try to stick his face into it.

I feel like that some days. Trying to find the smallest patch of God's Light in which to rest.

These words from Psalm 130 brought me that little patch of Light today, and they warmed my heart as I rested in them:

"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning...

...put your hope in the Lord,
for with the Lord is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption."

Remembering that God can FULLY REDEEM any circumstance, heartache, or broken thing on this earth and in my life is like stepping into a sunny day so bright that it makes my eyes cry.

Redemption doesn't mean it wasn't broken, it didn't hurt, it wasn't difficult...Redemption means that broken, painful, difficult thing became complete and whole and beautiful. I am in love with a God who can do that!

Things Are Looking Up...

2011-01-05T00:02:00.001-06:00

The holidays were great, but I always find the snap-back-to-work mode a little jarring. After today's workday, Owens showed me how to recover. Assume this position for awhile and life won't seem so bad.

I have a feeling 2011 is going to be looking up for us. Proof: My family played their annual rousing game of New Year's Eve Trivial Pursuit during the final hour(s) of 2010. Nick & I were a floundering team, lagging behind with only one chip. I kid you not--as soon as the clock struck midnight, we earned the remaining chips and answered the "center" question correctly within one or two rounds to clench the victory. Said victory has only been stolen from my dad on very rare occasions.

This leads me to one conclusion, and one conclusion only: 2011 is the Year of the Faris. Watch out everyone, things are looking up!

("I lift up my eyes to you, to you who sit enthroned in heaven." Ps 123:1)

Smell Ya Later!

2010-12-22T15:11:00.002-06:00

Whoa. You have been hangin' in with me through some seriously intense posts. That is real blog friendship.

Let's talk about stinky washing machines today, shall we?

My towels reek. I put them in the washer w/ my favorite detergent, dry them (sans dryer sheet) in the dryer, and they come out all warm and good laundryish smelling. As soon as I dry off with one of them and the towel gets damp, it smells like it's been sitting in a wet heap in the corner for a month.

I do not have this problem with clothes. The clothes smell fine. (But then again, I'm not drying off with them, so maybe they just don't have the opportunity to stink.)

I did the whole vinegar in the wash thing with the towels. Nada.

Around this time, a good friend declared her washing machine to be beyond help (stink-wise) and ended up having to replace it after they found mold all inside the inner-workings of the thing-er-ma-jig. After hearing about the whole mess, I started wondering...

Mold. MOLD. I wonder if that is my problem. That is the exact smell of the stink in my towels. My washing basin even started smelling stronger of mold once this came to my attention. (Of course.) Then, I began to freak.

So I did what any 21st Century domestic diva would do: I googled "get rid of the stink in my washing machine." After sifting through various suggestions and opinions, I found the solution that did the trick. (Wish I could find the two links that provided the major info, but alas, my google search is coming up fruitless this time!)

First, I found out that my top-loading Kenmore most likely DID have mold growing inside it. This is due to the fact that many liquid clothes detergents actually suggest using more than you should. The machine gets a build-up of soap gunk in it, which turns to mold. Also, keeping the lid closed all of the time traps moisture inside the machine, encouraging the growth of gross stuff.

Luckily, I found out how to FIX this and THEN how to prevent it...

To fix the funk:

1. Fill your washer up with the hottest water you can acquire. My washer is bare-bones-basic, so I only have a "warm" setting, which is really just "less cold." I ended up putting a bucket under my kitchen faucet and filling it up with water on the hottest setting. Then, I emptied the bucket into the washer. I did this four times.

2. Pour in two cups of Cascade Complete gel. (Yes, the dishwashing detergent. Don't ask me why we need one soap to clean out another kind of soap.) Add two cups of bleach.

3. Run the "load" (which is really just hot water, Cascade, & bleach). Exit the kitchen, because it will be smelling all kinds of strong up in there.

4. Once the first load is finished, fill again with very hot water and run another load--this time only with water.

5. Leave the lid open to dry out the washer. (Or you could start washing laundry immediately if you need to.) The first load you run after cleaning should be whites, just in case some bleach is lingering.

This worked for me--took away the smell!

For prevention:

Leave the lid open or cracked open as much as possible after doing laundry in order to let the basin dry.

Run a cup of vinegar through the rinse cycle of your towels the next time you wash those to get the grody-ness out.

Only use HALF the amount of detergent that the package recommends. (For me, this means two squirts of Method instead of four.)

May you all have a wonderful-smelling holiday week!

Happy Advent!

2010-12-20T16:49:00.002-06:00

I can't believe 2010 is almost over! I also can't believe there are a measly 25 posts in this year's archives--sorry bloggies. It's been a hard year, but a great year. That counts for something, even if it hasn't translated into blog posts...

I love Christmas. But I'll tell you what I love even more:

The entire season of Advent.

The moment we get on the interstate headed back to Memphis on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, we play this from start to finish:

Andrew Peterson & friends lead us from story of Moses until the coming of Christ. After the album is finished, we listen to our other favorite Christmas songs until we're red & green in the face.

Advent means "arrival" or "coming," and there is just something about awaiting the arrival of another tiny person in your life during the same season that makes this truly come alive. This entire past year has been a season of advent for us in a way.

One important distinction: the arrival of baby Christ and the 2nd coming of our resurrected Christ is THE celebration/longing.

I do not long for our completed family in the way that I long for His completed Kingdom. (If I did, I would have an idol to deal with!) However, waiting for something...for a long time...for longer than you expected...with no timeline set before you...it is reminiscent of the way Israel waited for the Messiah...and of the way we wait for Jesus' return.

I pray daily that today will be "the day." The day our social worker calls us with THE news. The day we open that email and see that sweet picture. The day we bestow a name. The day the waiting is over and a new anticipation begins.

And yet, it wasn't today. It wasn't last week. Or last month. It might be tomorrow. It might not. This is a hard thing.

And if you are a Believer, I know you get that. Because in my life, I pray "Come, Lord Jesus." And yet, it wasn't today. It wasn't last week. Or last month. It might be tomorrow. It might not.

We do not lose hope. We know His arrival will happen. We just don't when. Hope means still praying, still asking, will it, can it be today?

"For many people, waiting is an awful desert between where they are & where they want to go...[yet,] all the figures who appear on the first pages of Luke's Gospel are waiting...waiting with a sense of promise...Active waiting means to be present fully to the moment, in the conviction that something is happening where you are, and that you want to be present to it...The spiritual life is a life in which we wait, actively present to the moment, trusting that new things will happen to us, new things that are far beyond our own imagination, fantasy, or prediction. That indeed, is a very radical stance toward life in a world preoccupied with control."

- Henri Nouwen ("Watch for the Light")

I do not want to be preoccupied with control. I want to be actively present to this moment, trusting that new things will happen to me.

I treasure the Advent season for this reason: Emmanuel, who was promised, came to us. It was a surprise. Not everyone was present to the moment. But God was with us. And in the midst of more than one kind of waiting today, He still is.

The View Up There

2010-11-05T11:48:00.007-05:00

Do you want to know the plain, ugly truth?

I am hiding.

I am hiding from people like my hair stylist, whom I told I would have a picture of my child to show her in the spring. But I didn't. But I told her to wait until the summer. S0 she did, but I still didn't. But it will TOTALLY be by the fall. But it wasn't. And I let my highlights grow out to an embarrassing length just to keep from going in empty-handed. But I did anyways.

I am hiding from people like curious new acquaintances, who don't have to delve very far into my life before I offer the information that my husband and I are adopting our first child. Along with the (gratifying) excitement, comes the barrage of all-too-predictable questions: From where? How did you decide that? Ok, so I hope you don't mind my asking, but how does it all work...? Oh my goodness, why has it taken so long?? When will you find out???

Heck if I know, stranger.

I am even hiding from my friends. Because "Any news?" is like poison poured into my ears.

I am considering carrying around one of those life-like baby dolls. Just swaddle it up and stick it in a Baby Bjorn and say "Yes, there is news! This is our baby! Shhhhhhh...it's sleeping!"

(Saying "it" would be the tip-off, wouldn't it?)

I know I'm being dramatic, but:

1) What did you expect? Um, do you know me at all?

2) Some days the wait just feels dramatically difficult...

In other words, some days it is a "wait," and other days...it is a "weight."

(ba-dum..ching!)

Psalm 61:2 has lifted my soul this week.

"From the ends of the earth, I call to You,

I call as my heart grows faint;

Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I."

I like this verse. I've always read it and thought about how God is our Rock. And God is higher/loftier/holier than I am. He knows best. His ways are higher and better.

Which is true. But I thought about something else this week.

There's this place that I really like in Little Rock. I haven't been there very often, but it is memorable to me. Pinnacle Mountain is this big ole' steep hill/mountain that you can climb to the tippy top. It is a steep hike that makes you tired. First you climb up through beautiful forrest scenery. Then it gets a little rockier and more difficult. And then you're at the peak, and you can see... everything.

All of these feelings rush into you. The view is breathtaking. The feeling of accomplishment after a wearying hike is rewarding. You feel so high above everything.

And that is what I felt this week as I pictured my soul calling out to God as it grows faint. "Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I!" The thought that I can climb way up into His arms and gain perspective on my world. I can see the view from up there. That is what I long for today.

It makes answering well-intentioned questions seem less painful and more...well-intentioned.

It makes weeks that turn into months that turn into seasons look soooo tiny down there.

It makes "the future" feel a little closer and my life feel less about "me."

And when I've climbed on down and jumped back into my life this week, I've found that hiding is okay sometimes, too. After all, God is not just a Rock...

"Trust in Him at all times , O people;

pour out your hearts to Him,

for God is our Refuge."

(Psalm 62:8)

Morals of this story:

1. If you learn something about someone and feel curious about details, "Wow, I'd love to hear more about that sometime!" is probably a more gracious way of finding out more.

(I would love to tell anyone about adoption and how it works...but not...right now.)

2. Do not ask someone that is wondering how much longer they can wait how much longer they will have to wait.

(My favorite phrase from friends right now is "I'm not asking, because I figure there's nothing to tell!" with an immediate change of subject.)

3. If you find yourself at the end of your bitter rope, better get to climbin' or hidin'!

(I recommend both.)

Same Woman, Different Mother

2010-10-21T14:51:00.008-05:00

Last Wednesday marked 7 months since we were ready to be put on our agency's wait list...

6 months since we were told it would be 1-5 more months...

10 months since our dossier was accepted...

13 months since we began our home study...

23 months since we started intentionally saving for our adoption...

31 months since we made the decision to adopt our first child...

A year ago, I was excited about preparing to be a mother.

Six months ago, I was starting to feel more and more like an expectant mother.

Three months ago, I expected to be home with our child.

Five months ago, my husband gave me the most wonderful Mother's Day gift possible. At first, I was a tiny bit bummed. I was expecting a beautiful piece of jewelry or some perfume. (I had been enamored with an Etsy shop that sold necklaces in the shapes of Africa & Ethiopia. I had also been seeking "my perfect scent" that my future child would know "smelled like me.") But no jewelry. No perfume. No breakfast in bed. (Although, I did get some Beauty Shop brunch, which in my opinion is better!)

Instead, I got this...

The Bible I received at my high school graduation was so "loved" that it had duct tape around the spine and "Jesse Maddox" imprinted on the cover. Nick had it rebound to restore it to perfect condition, and he had my new name printed on the front. I thought it was sweet.

Sweet...but for Mother's Day? However, this gift became "The Perfect Mother's Day Gift" (TPMDG) in the months that followed...in the months that this mother-to-be waited. I thought I was as ready as I could be. I had read the books. Gone to the conferences. Subscribed to the email lists. We bought the crib. Assembled the crib. Planned the bedding. Made the bedding. Sewed the curtains. Painted the nursery. Replaced the baseboards. Bought the glider. Assembled the glider. Recovered the glider. Arranged the furniture. We did all of this with painstaking distance between each event, so as not to rush the process. So as not to become impatient. So as not to become "those people" who are all ready and sitting around twiddling their thumbs...and worse, whining about it.

And yet, the waiting.

My morning coffee with the Lord became not just "nice." It became imperative. "Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord." "Give us this day our daily bread." Plain-speak: I relied upon God's Word to sustain me each day. Correction: I RELY upon God's Word to sustain me each day.

Have you ever waited for something?

Maybe you've never adopted. But...maybe you waited to grow up. Or maybe you waited to fall in love. Or to find the right job. Or to quit the wrong job. Or to get pregnant. Or to deliver your baby whenever he/she was ready to arrive. Or for your child to grow out of a particularly trying era of life.

(Um, what part of a child's life is NOT particularly trying? I'm just sayin'...)

Life = waiting.

I've been given this unexpected blessing. 9 months. That's the normal allotment a mother-to-be is given to wait. (Don't ask me about weeks--those confuse me!) I have many friends that have gone right up to their due date...and past. And they are miserable. And wondering. And trying anything possible to speed up their unknown short-term wait.

(I am NOT judging that. It looks miserable to be 9 full months pregnant--my heart waits anxiously along with these friends!)

But what if you got pregnant. And your due date came. And went. And you were still pregnant 1, 2, 3, 4 months later...with no certainty of when that baby would be delivered? Yeah, you're going crazy in your mind, right?

It doesn't sound like a blessing. But it is.

I didn't realize that training for a marathon two years ago would prepare me for this wait. I often joke (in full seriousness) that training for a marathon is all about teaching your body how to suffer. I like to run, but do you think anyone LIKES running 26.2 miles? No! It sucks! I basically trained my body how to suffer...how to painfully WAIT for 26.2 miles until I got to the finish. But it is amazing. And the feeling of finishing that type of challenge, of "summiting that mountain" per say, is unmatched.

Waiting can feel like suffering.

The Best Mother's Day Gift Ever allowed me to become a different mother. Yes, I was prepared and excited and ready for the challenge of parenthood (as much as I could be!)...months ago. But in these extra "overdue" months, I have learned a lesson that has transformed the way I will approach parenting (and LIFE).

Life = waiting. And waiting is suffering. Which requires a deep peace and supernatural patience. And I don't have what it takes to provide that for myself.

I don't. I really don't.

Jesus said,

"I am the way,

the truth,

and the life..."

(John 14:6)

I have found in these overdue months (with the help of my BMDGE) that the Lord is the only Way to anything...the only Truth about anything...and He. IS. LIFE.

He is the only way to live life.

And so on days like today...Friday...the "Monday" of the adoption world (last day for referral possibilities until the work week begins again on Monday...ugh, FRIDAYS)...I feel blue. I feel hopeless. I feel whiny. I feel jealous. I feel bitter. I feel regretful. I feel tired.

And I sit before the Lord with my morning coffee and my BMDGE...and I wait.

"Do you not know? Have you not heard?

The Lord is the EVERLASTING God...

He WILL NOT grow tired or weary,

and His understanding no one can fathom.

He gives STRENGTH to the weary

and increases the POWER of the weak...

Those who hope in the Lord will

RENEW.

THEIR.

STRENGTH."

(Isaiah 40:28-31)

Only God can renew my strength.

Only God can give me peace for today that overcomes my stress.

Only God can give me patience for today that overcomes a 31-month-and-counting journey to becoming a parent.

Only God can give me hope that overcomes repeated disappointment and false expectations.

Only God.

And that is why I am a different mother before ever stepping foot into the world of diapers, sleepless nights, colic, spit-up, and "mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy..."

Because I know I am not cut out for that.

But the Spirit of God inside me is.

"May the God of HOPE

FILL YOU with ALL JOY and PEACE

AS YOU TRUST in Him

so that you may OVERFLOW WITH HOPE

BY THE POWER of the HOLY SPIRIT."

(Romans 15:13...My "Daily Bread" verse.)

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

2010-10-14T21:01:00.001-05:00

Moses isn't.
But he's afraid of almost everything else...

In honor of the upcoming holiday, I give you...

Things that Truly Spook Moses:
Thunderstorms
Rain
Dark clouds
Rustling leaves
Leaves falling from trees
Sprinklers
Kiddy Pools
Fireworks
Hammering & Nail Gunning
(not hammers & nail guns in themselves--just using them)
Loud vehicles
Airplanes
Mailmen/women
Sanitation workers
MLGW Employees
Men
Orange cones
Two fingers "walking" towards him

(Above photo is of Moses in his favorite spot: hiding under the bed)

WATevER

2010-10-07T16:39:00.005-05:00

You thought I was lying about posting again before next year, didn't you?

Well YOU. WERE. WRONG.

My dad used to get me to finish whatever was on my plate by saying, "Betcha can't eat that piece," and then moving on to the next as I gobbled it up.

Not sure if that's relevant, but now you know.

But it is relevant, because I feel like writing about food and drink. Particularly drink. Particularly water. I am not a "drinker." I don't mean that as in "I am not an imbiber." I just don't drink much of ANYTHING. (Is imbiber a word?)

Food: I love love love food. I would profess myself as a foodie, except I don't think I qualify. But I would love to be a foodie. Drink: A different story. There are drinks I most surely enjoy. But even those beverages of favor are tough for me to finish. I simply do not desire to consume much liquid.

I order a "short" at Starbucks. They repeatedly ask me if I'd like to pay "x" cents more by ordering a tall, and I have to repeatedly explain that I just won't even finish the amount in a short size. And this is for my favorite toffee nut latte with soy.

Water is tasteless. There are moments I enjoy it--ice cold after a run...with lime in it during a meal of mexican food...after an out-of-town trip (because Memphis tap water is THE BEST EVER and all else pales in comparison)...but for the most part, I just forget. And when I remember, it does not appeal to me. At restaurants, my glass stays 3/4ths full while the waitstaff fills Nick's 3 or 4 times. Eh, it's just water.

At the adoption conference we recently attended, Dr. Karyn Purvis waxed eloquent on the essential act of hydration--especially for children, but for the rest of us as well. Our brains do ugly things when they are dehydrated. Think about your normal day...and your normal irritations...energy levels...ailments such as headaches & sore muscles. Most of these are due (at least in part) to dehydration. Go figure.

Blurg.

Dr. Purvis pointed out that many beverages actually cause dehydration. Coffee. Tea. Juice. Soda. Not only should we be drinking our 8 glasses of water per day, but in addition we should replace the hydration we lose through other beverages. For example: I thoroughly enjoy my 1/3 of a cup of coffee every morning. (I told you--I am not a drinker!) Immediately before or after, I should fill 1/3 of my mug with water and "match" my coffee intake.

I really liked that "chaser" suggestion, but it's the constant drinking of water that is tough for me. To put anything that tastes good into it decreases the health value (artificial sweeteners in Crystal Lite and other powders are dehydrating...citrus slices are bad for your teeth...blahblahblah). So what's this girl to do?

Suggestions are welcome. How do you meet your daily water quota?

In the meantime, I will be doing my own experimentations.

As an aside, my sweetheart of a husband sent me these in the mail, and they arrived today:

Ohhhh, girlie classic literature. Thou art beautifully fantastic.

The Month That Wasn't

2010-10-05T14:51:00.007-05:00

...and that would be September, as far as my blogosphere goes.

Sorry for the hiatus. It was awfully necessary.

September for me meant:

- Tis the season for the SAT & ACT! Everyone and their mother and dog wants test prep. (AKA: Overtime with a frantic pace at work!)

- Speaking of dogs: Owens split open his tail and whipped blood

everywhere in what ended up being known as "The Worst Week Ever." Tiiiiiiiny dots of blood on the floor, walls, ceiling, rug, curtains, MICROSUEDE COUCH, cushions, loveseat... *Sigh* Have no fear, after much wailing and gnashing of teeth and cleaning, OxiClean Max saved my earthly possessions. And Jesus saved my attitude--"it's just stuff," he told me.

- Speaking of Jesus and overtime: He has been workin' it in my life! I'm sure a lengthier post is coming on this subject, but let's just say that I am a different person than I was 6, 10, 12 months ago. And it's all thanks to God's Spirit and a long wait.

- Speaking of long waits: Please forgive my strained smile and fake cheerful response that sounds something like, "Still waiting...at the top of the list!" when you ask me if there is any news about the adoption. BELIEVE ME. You'll hear when there's news. And BELIEVE ME, I am just as curious as when it will happen as you are. Picture me as that overdue pregnant woman, looking miserable in her oversized-ness, just trying to will herself into labor. Wish all those labor tricks worked for getting referrals...we'd be eating hot pepper flakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!

- Speaking of miserable: I'm not. Really, I'm not. But I am. Again, remember that overdue pregnancy. My world's about to change--Let's get on with it! No, wait--I want to savor the present! Just kidding...time for some action! Can you relate? I hope so. Because I'm living the life of a crazy woman with a Holy Spirit I.V.

- Speaking of savoring the present:

We went for it and took another vacay. Awww, look at us. All young couple-y and child-free. Our trip was as wonderful as possible for the middle of a crazy month, and we really enjoyed just being together, reading good books, resting in the sunshine, and eating good food. I love my husband, y'all. I just really really do. He is my best friend in the whole wide world, and we are exactly the same and completely different.

- Speaking of as wonderful as possible: We enlarged the awesomeness of our vacay by book-ending it with 2 mini-trips.

Mini-Trip 1: The weekend before we went to the beach, we attended the "Empowered to Connect" adoption conference in Nashville. I don't care who you are--adoptive parent or not--Dr. Karyn Purvis is my hero, and I love her approach to parenting. Not only did we thoroughly enjoy the one-day conference, but we soaked up some great friend-time with some of my dear college friends. (Shout out to the Meeks, Hartzogs, and our gracious hosts, the Crawfords!)

Mini-Trip 2: On the way back from the beach, we took a minor detour up the I-85 to the Loveliest Village on the Plains. Caught up with Jim & Mary Brinkerhoff, ate at Amsterdams with the Mills, and stocked up on Auburn paraphernalia at the bookstores. War Eagle!

So, yeah. September, what? It was great. It was awful. It was there.

October has already arrived with crisp weather, changing leaves, and my favorite fall foods.

I am fully present. Get ready for a barrage of fall blog posting. No, really, I mean it.

Note: Does anyone know why my SLR shots are turning out so grainy when they're posted to the internet? And does anyone know why I can't manipulate the size of them? And does anyone know why I care so much?

The Dirt on Thirty

2010-08-10T14:48:00.012-05:00

Ok, here's the truth:
I made it to Year Thirty.
I just like to keep you in suspense....

Conveniently, the last five years are aaaaall recorded on this here blog.
(Happy Belated 5-Year Anniversary, Your Mom's Blog!)
It's been quite amusing to watch myself grow up in blog posts.
And that's what is different about being 30, I think. I maybe feel as close to feeling "grown up" as I'm going to get? It was a shock each year in my 20's to realize that being grown up feels like..."this." And yet, looking back, I was still growing up all along.

I still am! I just "get it" now, I think?

YEAR TWENTY-FIVE:
(Our engagement day, October 10, 2005!)

Oh, look at this little girl.
So cute, thin, and happy.
There's the man that brought technicolor to her life,
holding that newly engaged hand.

I got married near the end of Year Twenty-Five. And Nick has helped me become the best possible version of myself in the last five years. I thought I had grown up and solidified my identity before I met Nick. I moved to a city where I had no friends my age and lived by myself, I got my first dog, I discovered my love of running. I honed my cooking skillz. I took swimming lessons to overcome my fear of going underwater. I was a grown. up.

And then I met this man. I want to say he changed my life. But he didn't--he just helped me to get to know myself better. These last five years, God has used my husband to refine me into someone who is truly okay with who He made me to be.

Fat face. That is what I think when I see myself in pictures. It's not necessarily a matter of weight gain or weight loss (although, there's always room for discipline in this sweet tooth's life!)...it is just what my "grown up face" looks like. I don't look like I'm 25 anymore. I don't think I'll ever look like that again. Cest la vie. But that's the point. I still like my face. Even when it looks like fat face, it's still MY face. That's what being 30 looks like for me so far. There is a serenity and peace and knowledge of myself that wasn't there 15, 10, 5 years ago. If this is what getting old(er) is like...I like it.

YEAR THIRTY
(July 16, 2010 @ Trolley Stop Market)

We celebrated with friends, pizza, and Muddy's cupcakes.

I had also made chocolate brownie cupcakes,
and they ended up like this in the parking lot
as they made their arrival:

Oh, it was sad for sure.
But it was no big deal.
I might have freaked if I was 25, but good heavens, not at 30.
Come on, now, we're all grown ups!
(Good thing we had the Muddy's.)

Earlier that morning, Nick had left me some freshly brewed coffee
and these little gems around the house:

Time stands still, indeed.
(Adoption Update: Still waiting!) ;)

Countdown to Thirty: Year 20

2010-07-15T17:27:00.010-05:00

I did not go for a run last night.
Instead, I made Lemon-Blueberry Layer Cake.
Hey, it's Birthday Week--gimme a break!

YEAR TWENTY:
2000-2001

There's something lame about turning twenty.
It's double-digits...it sounds like a big deal.
But nothing special happens.

However...
plenty of significant things happened in my 20th year.
First, in the spring before I turned 20,
I traveled to Memphis for the first time
for an amazing experience.

OneDay, May 2000
I guess you could say it was a worship Woodstock for Christ-followers.
Louie Giglio, Beth Moore, John Piper, Chris Tomlin, David Crowder...
40,000 college students,
gathered at Shelby Farms
camping out
and worshiping
ALL
DAY
LONG.

Louie Giglio reflects on this year's
10th anniversary of OneDay here.

He writes: "I can close my eyes
and be back there in a heartbeat.
I can see a generation on their knees...
on their faces...
bowed down in the muddy grass
to be lifted up again
to touch the world in Jesus name.
Ten years later I would guess anyone
on that field can tell you how
God touched their lives that day...
and many would say they are where they are
because of the calling God put in their hearts
at Shelby Farms."

I had NO CLUE when I traveled to Memphis that spring
that I would be living there the next summer
or the 9 summers after that.
Shelby Farms remains one of my favorite places...

My poor mother didn't know I would never
live in her house again after I graduated high school.
(My poor self didn't know that either!)
I interned for a church youth ministry in Pensacola, FL
the summers after my Freshman and Sophomore years at Auburn.
I interned in Memphis (surprise surprise!)
the summer after my Junior and Senior years.
And I've been here ever since.

Auburn.
There are no words.
Loveliest village on the plains.
The epitome of "Year 20."

Here are two Auburn-related pictures
that my friends might not appreciate me posting.
(Sorry friends, it's Birthday Week!)

Fall of Junior Year, 2000
Newly, freshly 20.
Ashley & I thought it'd be funny
to make fun of our double chins.
What's actually funny is what we had to do
at that age to MAKE double-chins.
(If only we knew what 10 years could do to our bodies, right?)
Ashley was my bitter Freshman Year rival,
turned apartment neighbor,
turned duplex neighbor
turned BFF.
Those are the best kind, don't you think?
I'm so happy I got over myself--this lady
is one of my dearest buds today!
(I think it's time for a 10yr double-chin reunion pic,
don't you agree, Ash?)

Summer after Junior Year, 2001
Do we look exhausted and overheated in this picture?
Because we are.
Kristy came to Memphis Workcamp
and roomed with me for the week.
It was summer before Senior Year for me
and Kristy had just graduated.
The future was looming ever-so-near.
We spent our afternoons together
"un-planning" our lives.

{You can play at home if you'd like.
It starts with taking all the
things that you've planned to happen
for the future,
wiping that slate clean,
and completing the following sentence:
"What if I/we..."}

20 was a huge year.
It was a year of growth.
Surprises.
Un-planning.

I plan to celebrate Year 20 tonight
by sentimentally remembering
that one day in His presence is better
than a thousand elsewhere
(through the album on the right, duh)
while doing some more un-planning.

Countdown to Thirty: Year Fifteen-ish

2010-07-14T15:23:00.010-05:00

"thirtysomething" is intense.
Is this an omen of things to come?

YEAR FIFTEEN-ISH:
1995 - 1998
Ok, well this is the closest picture I could get.
Somehow all of my pictures from
Jr High & High School have disappeared??
How did that happen? ;)
Spring Break, City of Children in Ensenada, Mexico, 1996 (age 16)

This picture is for Mandi Burke...
who gets teased mercilessly for her haircut from high school.
You were were just keeping it real, right Mandi?
We were en vogue.

Here is my proof:
Gwyneth Paltrow, circa Brad Pitt.
Of course, I did not have a professional hairstylist to
advise me of the mistake I was making with my bangs.
But cut me a break--I was a late bloomer!

The above picture
is the haircut that evolved
into this one:

(Fall 1998, Freshman year of college)

All thanks to Gwyneth in "Sliding Doors"...I was explaining to someone recently that I was merely
emulating one of my favorite movie stars with that short haircut.
He said, "No wonder Brad Pitt broke up with her."

Ouch.

In hindsight, we refer to this as "The Mom Cut."
One day, I was driving the family vehicle
(read: Minivan) out of our school parking lot.
My friends told me later that they'd seen me
and thought I was a mom.

Ouch.

I turned 15 between my freshman
and sophomore years of high school.
Before "The Mom Cut,"
I had "The Rachel."
I vividly remember watching
the "Friends" episode
where Ross finally kisses Rachel
when I was 15.
By the way,
the irony is not lost on me
that while I switched from Rachel to Gwyneth,
Brad Pitt was doing the opposite.

I tried out for my public school's track team
during my sophomore year.
I didn't make it...
but I continued to condition with the team
because I liked running.

I switched from a large public school
to a small private school
at the beginning of my Junior year.
It was my own decision.

Made a lifelong best friend during that Mexican mission trip
(first picture) with my new school:
(Ibby & me during my first summer internship in Pensacola, 1999)

But I ended up rooming with an old friend from public school
during my freshman year at Auburn:
(Melanie and me with our dorm room in the background.
By the way, she drew my wedding invitations!)

I will be celebrating my fifteenth year of life this evening
by going for a run...just for fun.
And I'll be listening to one of my favorite duos ever,
whom I discovered in high school (see right column).
We're getting closer to fine!

Countdown to Thirty: Year Ten-ish

2010-07-13T15:01:00.010-05:00

Welcome back!
The past 24-hrs have been pure childhood nostalgia bliss.
Well, not exactly, but I did manage to:

Make a purple popsicle for myself (black cherry grape juice frozen in a mold--yesss)
Listen to The Sound of Music via Grooveshark (try it out, people--free awesomeness!)
Watch The Parent Trap. One of my supreme childhood favorites! (I have been compared to young Haley Mills in appearance before. Do you see it?)

YEAR TEN-ISH
1988-1991
I say ten-ish, because I cannot find a picture of myself at age 10,
and all of the funny antidotes I have are from age not-10.

Coming first: Less than age 10.
Cambridge, Ohio.
My mother made our Halloween costumes.
We were the California Raisins (check out my pink high tops).
As you can tell, we LOVED it.
(Cody is particularly mad because Mom made
the costumes by dying sheets she already had,
and he got the one that was checkered
because she ran out of solid-colored sheets.)

Next, also less than 10.
Still Cambridge, Ohio I think.
1. I think this pictures is funny.
2. If you've ever wondered what it's like to live in the North,
check out all those snow coats in the right corner.
3. In case you're missing it, my bangs ONLY were permed.
Oh, sweet 1980's.

Lastly, I think a little over 10?
Trumansburg, New York.
My parents each took a picture with me on the doorstep
of our current house on each birthday.
Can't remember which birthday this was, though.
Look at our fabulous style that is finally back in fashion.
Those are stonewashed denim overalls (with one strap hanging down).
(Cuffs rolled up, of course.)
Patterned denim jacket.
Fisherman's hat with a fake rose attached.
Patterned denim jumpsuit on Mom.
(Don't miss those rolled up tshirt sleeves.)
Yessss.

I also feel the need to tell you:
I took my first job during this era of my life in NY.
I had a paper route.
Bicycle and everything.
True story.

Last story doesn't have a photo to go with it, but it's a good one.

July 16, 1993 = My 13th Birthday

We had just moved from New York to Atlanta during my 6th grade school year. I hated the South. I missed my friends. People made fun of my accent. I went home sick from school one spring afternoon because it was too hot. I didn't play soccer but I wore Adidas Sambas, and people thought that was weird. What's a girl to do? My parents sensed my newly forming teenage angst...

Shortly before my 13th birthday, Mom & Dad presented me ceremoniously with a homemade card that said "Welcome to Adolescence." But being the 12 & three-quarters child I was, I had never read that word. So I sounded it out, reading, "Welcome to uh-desolantes." My parents got a pretty big kick out of that.

When I opened the card, I read that for my birthday gift, they were renewing my Girl Scout membership for the next full year. Uh oh. My friends were in Girl Scouts up North because there was nothing better to do than go camping in our little small town. But what my parents apparently didn't realize was that NO ONE with an ounce of coolness was in Girl Scouts in my current Southern school.

What to do?

Well, I did what any rising 13-year-old would do. I threw a teenaged fit.

My parents were highly entertained as a wailed and threw myself dramatically across my bed, telling them I would be the most unpopular girl in school. I tearfully begged not to be made to attend the weekly Girl Scout Meetings. Please please please, if they had any goodness in their hearts, would they please pretend they did not give me that gift?

They then gave me a second envelope, suppressing their laughter. I dried my melodramatic tears and pulled out a plane ticket to New York. They were sending me up for a weekend to see my old friends for their last week of school. There was a school dance I would attend with them. Then, the girls were headed out camping on a Girl Scout outing. You had to be a Girl Scout to attend the trip, though.

Womp womp. The joke was on me. Welcome to uh-desolants.

To celebrate this era of my life today, I will be Instant Netflixing a television show my parents (and the rest of America) were thoroughly enjoying during my ten-ish years: (appropriately entitled) "thirtysomething." And you'd better believe I'm listening to the album on the right column--the first tape I purchased with my own money! Hold on for one more day!

Countdown to Thirty

2010-07-12T11:46:00.010-05:00

That's right, everyone. It's...Birthday Week!

This Monday morning started off a little rough--thunderstorms in the AM that kept this sad looking little booger up all night...
But sometimes Monday mornings just need a little coaxing.
"It's all right Monday...don't worry...it's all going to be okay...here, have a little coffee, sweetheart."

Now the prospect of Birthday Week has us looking like this:
Did someone say..."treat?"
Well, you're in for a treat this week too, my friends. Get ready for a 5-day blogging blitz.
I'm covering 5 years of my life per day, and by golly, we're counting up to THIRTY!

You're getting a two-fer today, because we have to start at the beginning.
(It's a very good place to start.)

ZERO YEARS OLD:
July 16, 1980. Lafayette, Indiana. It was 107 degrees.
I believe that is still the record high for July in Indiana. Monumental day!
(Does that baby even look like me??)

FIVE YEARS OLD:
My mom used to tell me that when she got really mad at me as a teenager,
she'd just remember the way I looked at age 3 to calm herself down.
Yes, I was really THAT cute.
But we've skipped all that--we have a lot of years to cover!
By age five, I was living in my third city: Columbus, Ohio.
This is me with my bff, Lori Murphy.
We went to preschool together.

I thought this picture was appropriate for sharing,
considering my new approaching life era...
We played "Moms" a lot.
We also couldn't get enough pretend grocery shopping.
(I STILL like grocery shopping!)

Our supreme hobby was acting out parts to
"The Sound of Music" as it played on VHS.
I got to be Maria and Rolfe.
Lori was Leisl & the Captain.
We fought over who got to be Gretl.

I caught the chicken pox from Lori, and subsequently missed
the Purple Popsicle Parade at preschool.
(Say it out loud--you know you want to.)

I'll be celebrating the first five years of my life today by
having MY OWN Purple Popsicle Parade
while singing through one of the greatest musicals ever!
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo!

Daily Bread

2010-06-23T11:37:00.005-05:00

Ok, some "summer-y/fun" posts are coming. No, really, I promise. But right now, I just have to share with you about what God is doing in my life. He is moving and shaking and rocking my boat, and it. is. [mostly] WONDERFUL.

I've already written about how I am reading
and being transformed by this book:
Every chapter speaks to me in such a convicting,
encouraging, and paradigm-shifting way.

God has been using this book and the Sunday messages at our church this past spring to do something new in my heart. This past year has been a year of renewal in my life. Nick and I have made a series of faith-steps in our life, and God has been drawing us near to Him through those experiences.

The majority of 2010 this year has been a time of "abiding" for me. It is hard to wait on the Lord. Especially for something He has called you to! Recently, God has taught me something that is life-changing: I can't "do life" without Him. That may seem like a "duh" statement to you. But do you really live as if that statement is true? I have believed it for a long time, but I certainly wasn't living it.

What led me to chew on this simple/challenging thought was the way I have been feeling from day to day. Each day in April I awoke to think, "This is the day. This is the day that we will see our child's face, and learn his/her name, and our lives will never be the same again." (Yes, I know I'm a drama queen...ha!) Each day I would visualize what I would need to do if we "got the [referral] call." I planned my days around it. I had a hard time committing to anything, "just in case." Each evening, I felt weary and disappointed. I began to HATE the weekends, and the "Sunday dread" I used to feel about going to work was replaced with "Friday dread" that we would have to endure a weekend before the possibility of more news.

Waiting for good news is hard. It reminded me of the time in my life when ANY day could be the one in which Nick proposed to me. Oh, I got soooo frustrated with him as I used up all my cute outfits day after day and nothing happened. The day before he proposed, I whined to my friends that I was afraid it would never happen. This era of waiting is like a holding tank, in which I'm just frozen in time. Nothing in life will move/happen/unfreeze until this one thing for which I'm waiting happens. And OH, I HATED IT. I hated waiting. I hated the way it felt. I hated the way I perceived myself for the way I felt. I hated watching myself become "that" impatient person, instead of the person of peaceful, abiding faith that I wanted to be.

After a particularly whiny weekend at the beginning of this month, God was just flat-out direct with me. (Through P.Miller's book and a particular butt-kicking message at church and some time I spent reflecting upon my recent experiences.) I was just struggling through the weekend, the whole time hating myself for the struggle. And I realized, "I can't do this. I am trying to MAKE myself have peace and patience and faithfulness...and that can't come from ME. I am an impatient control freak--I don't have a peaceful or patient bone in my body!" God reminded me that the last "good" day I'd had, I had been desperately relying on him because I was just frankly running on empty. I remembered a treasured part of Paul Miller's book that had reminded me, "The criteria for coming to Jesus is weariness. Come overwhelmed with your life. Come with your wandering mind. Come messy."

Ironically, my one of my favorite parts of the Bible is when Paul talks about God's desire (and almost necessity) for us to be desperate for Him. " 'But He said to me: My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." God has never intended for Nick and me to pursue this adoption by our own power. His grace is what will MAKE ME a person of abiding faithfulness. His power has room to move into my life when I admit my weakness. Christ's power [that has strength to reverse death!] can rest on my everyday life like a blanket soothing a chilled body.

The first day I was convicted by this, I ran to God. I sat before him. I lifted my life up to Him and childishly said, "Help." The phone rang as I was praying. It was someone offering to help us in a HUGE way with our adoption.

I have since noticed the days I am filled with the Spirit's fruits contrasted with the days I rely on myself (and end up bitter, disappointed, hopeless, cynical). In the mornings, I RUN to God. I sip my morning coffee and my soul just sighs. I wait for Him. I will not leave His throne until He fills me. And THOSE are the days that are good.

God has since brought to my attention that this "new lesson" during this time of abiding is to be practiced beyond my time of waiting. If I think I need help from God's Spirit NOW, what do I think I'll be like as I'm learning to parent? I mean, I know I can be pretty naive, but I've heard parenting is hard work!

Today, I was reading in P.Miller's book about a fictional example of a woman who was trying to to control a frustrating event in life instead of taking her frustration to God. We'll call her Jesse (instead of the name Miller chose), just to bring this closer to home. Miller says, "What would happen if [Jesse] puts off self-will? She doesn't know. How will God intervene...? What does God want to do in her life? What 'beams' will she discover in her own eye? ... If [Jesse] surrenders her self-will, she will join Abraham walking up Mount Moriah with Isaac. She will join David as he puts down his knife when Saul is within his reach in the cave. [Jesse] is abiding. She has lost control of the story... Instead of trying to create her own story, [Jesse] will be content to let God write his story." Later, Miller writes, "God wants to do something bigger than simply answer my prayers... I often find that when God doesn't answer a prayer, he wants to expose something in me."

This is God's lesson for me. I am praying daily for our adoption. And God is exposing my idol of self-will and teaching me to rely on Him for my "daily bread." Is God preparing me to be a mother or what??

I hope you weren't just trying to skim over this post to see if there is any earth-shattering news or pictures of interest. (Because you were probably disappointed!) Isn't it true that most of our days are not filled with earth-shattering news or picture-perfect moments? They are filled with this: our daily need for our Father.

And if you are waiting for something...anything...
I pray this verse blooms in your life:

"May the God of hope
fill you with all joy and peace
as you trust in Him,
so that you may overflow with hope
by the power of the Holy Spirit."
(Romans 15:13)

The Unexpected Expectant Mother

2010-06-03T15:04:00.003-05:00

Ok, so I told you I wasn't going to talk about the adoption anymore.
And then I got walking pneumonia.
Goodbye, May.
June has me feeling better, and I just got my hair freshly cut & colored, which always helps exponentially.

There's your recent update.

I told Nick over the weekend that I feel stuck in terms of the blog world. I said I wasn't going to talk about the adoption, but it's this huge thing I can't get around in order to write about mundane thoughts like how the honky do you get mosquitoes out of your yard? and there are no words to express how happy fresh, local produce makes me feel in the summertime . Nick laughed and said "Your blog really will turn into a mom blog. You have a mom blog already!"

I have nothing against mom blogs. Mine just wasn't created for that purpose. I started my blog in May 2005 to start writing about my new adult life after graduate school. I've happened to become married over the course of that time, and now I happen to be becoming a mother. (Whatever grammatically correct way I should be saying that.)

This is Your Mom's Blog. Not The Mom Blog. As in, one day, in however many years, when my children are grown and I'm either humanly living or just eternally living, this blog will exist in cyberspace as their mom's blog. I was a wife and a mom, but I was a person. And they'll read my words as a wife, and as a mom, and mostly just as a person. And I hope they see parts of themselves in my words that make them laugh (or more realistically, probably cry)...because biology is not the only piece of you passed on to your children.

Or maybe this blog will be erased by the next year by cyber-fluke or when something trumps the world wide web. Who knows?

Regardless, here is my new decision. I can't NOT talk about this adoption. Talking about it is part of me being a person these days! I have no news to tell anyone other than our expected wait time for a referral at this point is projected at about 0-3 months. And when I do get news, I probably won't be posting details (name, age, etc) until after we've passed court (which will be after our first trip to Ethiopia). But I need to keep talking about this process. Because it's part of me.

So, here is my latest thought:
It is difficult to be an unexpected expectant mother.

Nick and I were in the market for a glider this past weekend. We took a little trip over to our local Babytime store to try a few out. There was one other customer there, noticeably very pregnant. Nick and I approached the gliders and began testing them out. A salesperson came to help us, and asked "Sooo...are you guys just checking things out or are you having a baby...?" His voice trailed off awkwardly as he stared at my midsection. It was at that point that I realized that the salespeople in the store thought I was probably 2 weeks pregnant or something. I had peed on the stick last week and already wanted to buy a glider. I explained that we were adopting, and then got to hear about the person our salesperson knew who had recently adopted. Wow. Neat. I just wanted a glider.

Before you start thinking I'm a mean and cynical person, I need to explain that I am about 10 months pregnant. Ok, not really. But I am in this adoption process. My body doesn't show it, but I'm about to bust at the seams. I know that being pregnant has it's share of public comments from strangers. But adoption can be just downright awkward sometimes.

Someone recently heard me talking about "our baby" and her face lit up, she sidled over to me and said "Did I hear you say the B Word?" I answered, with a friendly smile, "Yes, you knew we're adopting, right?" And her smile dulled a bit as she said, "Well, I knew THAT..."

How do you talk about this exciting event besides "we're adopting?" You can't say you're "having" a baby. I mean, I guess we'll "have" him/her into our family. But you know what I mean. "Getting" sounds just weird and disconnected. "Becoming parents" doesn't sound right either. "Starting a family?" Maybe. Anything without the word adoption causes people to look straight at my belly. And if that's going to keep happening, I really need to start an ab workout.

I don't look like an expectant mom, but I feel like one. BOY do I feel expectant. :) Do you ever wonder if adoption feels the same way as becoming a parent through birth? I always wonder the opposite, actually. But I think the general answer might be: Yes, it does feel the same emotionally. I feel excited, impatient, scared, overwhelmed, joyful, hopeful, visionary, idealistic... But I have nothing to show for it. It can be lonely.

After Babytime, Nick and I hit up Babies R Us. We drove past the first 6 rows of parking spaces dedicated to expectant mothers and parked in the middle of the (nearly empty) lot. We walked through the store while I felt ever-so-self-conscious that others were thinking I was a wannabe.

We chose adoption to begin our family. You read that right. We chose it. Our first choice. And in making that choice, we inadvertently chose some other things as well. Like an unpredictable timeline. Like the endless explanations of how our process of becoming parents works. Like being asked the reasons for why we made the choices we did. Like sometimes accepting lesser enthusiastic responses from others when they hear our news. Like anonymously becoming parents. It was part of our choice.

I write this not to elicit sympathy. I am glad we made this choice. It has been difficult at times, but God's Spirit has and continues to provide more than enough peace, patience, and faithfulness. I really mean that. This is such an amazing adventure God is leading us through, and we are holding our breath with excitement. (Getting a little blue in the face at times, but that's all part of the adventure!)

I am walking in the shoes of an adoptive parent, the unexpectedly expectant mother. And hopefully by reading along with me, you are too? I sure appreciate you sharing the journey with me.

Helplessness

2010-05-19T17:18:00.002-05:00

I know, I know. I said I was going radio-silent about the adoption, and then I went radio-silent all-together. I didn't really, I was just busy.

So guess what? I have walking pneumonia.

I think Memphis in May (the city and month, not the event) is trying to kill me. This is the third year that my health has crashed in May. I have developed a crazy allergy to something that doesn't bloom until May, apparently. This year, although I was already taking Zyrtec, stepped it up to Zyrtec-D and added Mucinex, I was no match for the mystery-allergen.

You know when you bump your leg into something and it hurts so dang bad and then there isn't even a mark the next day, even though it hurts? Or when you feel like you could die and surely it's the flu and you go to the doctor and he says it's just a cold? Walking pneumonia isn't like that. It sounds bad. And that is gratifying. Because it feels bad. :)

Hey, this is random, but I'm reading this book and I really like it so far:

(Paul Miller's "A Praying Life")

I thought I'd share this quote with you because I read it today and it encouraged me in a backwards way:

"We tell ourselves, 'Strong Christians pray a lot. If I were a stronger Christian, I'd pray more.' Strong Christians do pray more, but they pray more because they realize how weak they are. They don't try to hide it from themselves. Weakness is a channel that allows them to access grace. I'm not referring to well-known Christians. An interviewer once asked Edith Schaeffer, author and wife of evangelist and philosopher Francis Schaeffer, 'Who is the greatest Christian woman alive today?' She replied, 'We don't know her name. She is dying of cancer somewhere in a hospital in India.' I'm talking about that woman. Underneath her obedient life is a sense of helplessness. It has become part of her very nature...almost like breathing. Why? Because she is weak. She can feel her restless heart, her tendency to compare herself with others. She is shocked at how jealousy can well up in her. She notices how easily the world gets its hooks into her. In short, she distrusts herself. When she looks at other people, she sees the same struggles. The world, the flesh, and the Devil are too much for her. The result? Her heart cries out to God in prayer. She needs Jesus."

Amen and amen.

Less weird posts coming in the future, friends... :)

Three Things (x 3)

2010-04-22T10:39:00.005-05:00

I have no pictures to share.
No stories to regale.
Well, actually, I probably have both. But you aren't getting any today.

I just wanted to let you know 3 things:

1. I have not fallen off the face of the earth.

2. I have been spending every possible minute outside, being infatuated with this spring weather. (Who cares if my Macbook has a thin film of pollen covering it? Wearing sunglasses while you work is "the life!")

3. We are still waiting. We are excited. And happy. And I'm about to go radio silent about the adoption for awhile. But first I'll tell you this...

We found out three pieces of information on the same day last week:

1. Due to some recent unfortunate events, there has been a new mandate saying we (and all adoptive parents) will be required to travel to Ethiopia twice. The first visit will be to appear for our court date (previously, someone represented us at this appointment) and the second visit will be to appear for our embassy appointment and to bring our child home. The first visit will occur about 6 weeks after referral and the second visit will occur about 6 weeks after that. Crazy stuff! We had heard rumors about this, but we had thought it wouldn't affect us. Alas, it does.

Pro: We will get to meet our child sooner.
Con: We will have to say goodbye to our child and come home before going back to get him/her on a later trip.
Pro: We will get a "trial run" of our trip sans parenting responsibilities before the second visit when we will have the child with us most of the time. More time to soak up the culture!
Con: Extra cost. There are some things I can't talk about on the internet--that is one of them.
Pro: Our time-line will not be affected by this. It does not delay the time between referral and when we come home with our child--we just have to travel twice as much in the same original period of time.

2. Our social worker gave us an updated time-line--there has been some shuffling of people on our list. Instead of "any day now" until a referral, it looks like it will be more like 1-5 months until referral.

3. We received our approved i-171H in the mail! What? You don't know what this means? It is an official government document saying we are approved to adopt a child from Ethiopia. It's official!

So what does all of this mean for you, bloggie friends? Why, three things of course...

1. Radio silence on the adoption. Waiting is just waiting. I'm not going to whine about it--who wants that? In fact, I'm probably going to go ahead and start decorating my gender-neutral nursery and purchasing my long-coveted running stroller. But you won't hear about it for a while.

2. If you see me in person, PLEASE assume no news is good news. I know you are excited, and I am too, but it really starts wearing out my heart to say "No news," to everyone I know. For the next 1-5 months. Ha! Listen, I guarantee I'll be bellowing out your name and chasing you down in Target with news if I have something exciting to share!

3. Speaking of knowing me in person, you will get a little treat around the time of referral! I am not allowed to post photos of our child online before we've passed court. So I will be happy to spread the news in person, but the blog-world will only get general info until we've passed court (AKA made our first trip to Ethiopia!). Until then, "your mom's blog" goes back to regularly scheduled programming. And that's ok, because this is not an adoption blog...just a blog about little, ole, narcissistic ME! ;)

We just took a trip to Charlotte for a dear friend's wedding. Nick graduates from seminary next weekend. We have been fixing up our back yard so we can enjoy this spring and summer outside. The Memphis Farmers' Market just opened for a new season. Great things happening, and I'll tell you all about them soon!

Borrowed Notoriety

2010-03-26T10:44:00.005-05:00

So, in a lunch conversation with Leslie the other day, we pondered:

What makes a recipe YOURS?

Every recipe I use comes from somewhere. But somehow, there exists Jesse's Fruit Salsa Recipe or Jesse's Chicken Pot Pie. Truth be told, the Fruit Salsa came from my mom via allrecipes.com several years ago, and the CPP belongs to Real Simple.

Then there's the "specialties" I make that belong to others: Michelle Betts' Fried Chicken, Pioneer Woman's Cinnamon Rolls, Reta Faris' Ginger Snaps, Mom's Hungry Jack Casserole, you get the picture...

So what do you think--when does a recipe become yours?

My guess is that you first must become known for making that dish well (among your peers or family), and then it becomes "yours" when you pass it on to someone else. (That's how the Fruit Salsa & CPP recipes became "mine.")

How many years do I have to make Michelle's Fried Chicken recipe or how many generations do I have to pass it down to before it's known as "my recipe?" It's not that I desire for my name to be attached to recipes--I rather enjoy the nostalgia and connection recipes have. It's just that I was surprised to find I was linked to several borrowed recipes. If I pass on PW's CinnamonRollsofGoodness to my offspring and they pass it on to their offspring and so on--will my great-great-great grandchildren be making Cinnamon Rolls one day and still calling them Pioneer Woman's?

Just something to think about. What famous (borrowed-from-somewhere) recipe are YOU known for?

It's a lazy Friday, and I'll entertain you with today's amusement:
(Consider this a two-for-one!)
Nick woke me up this morning and I snapped at him. "WHY are you waking me up so EARLY?" Surprised, he left me alone. I heard him leave the house. I thought to myself, Is he crazy? Waking me up so early on a Saturday? I bet he went to get donuts as a peace offering. Sweet man. I then started thinking about Friday and how I was supposed to meet a friend in the afternoon. I felt startled when I realized I'd stood her up. And then it dawned on me--I hadn't dissed the rendezvous with my friend...Nick hadn't woken me up early on a weekend...He hadn't left the house in search of breakfast tokens...It. Was. Friday.

TGIF, friends!

Method (Wo)Man

2010-03-22T15:47:00.005-05:00

I am a long-time fan of the Method brand. They're green, clean, and they're packaging gets an A+ for awesomeness.

In honor of this time of the year (ahem, Spring Cleaning), here's a double thumbs-up for my fave products:
(I truly wish they paid me to say this...I simply love them this much!)

1. Laundry Detergent

This product is Method's newest and best. Doing the laundry just got five billion times easier. Click here to view the Method Laundry website, where you can find a coupon for $2 off! (But for the record, it's worth every full-priced penny!) I use the Fresh Air scent, which smells so laundry-fresh-off-the-line-ish, and I am so in love the squirt-pump they've added to the top that I want to marry it. I start the water running into the machine, grab the bottle out of the cabinet with one hand, pump 4x (still one hand), and in goes the laundry. Goes in dirty, comes out clean. Voila.

2. Lil' Bowl Blu + Tub & Tile Cleaner
Every Monday, I let Lil' Bowl Blu work it's magic. It's smells the way a bathroom cleaner should (fresh, minty?) but isn't filled with gross chemical madness. Now for my Swish & Swipe secret: (not really--I stole it from FlyLady) On following days of the week, I take the Tub & Tile Cleaner and spray it inside the toilet and swish it around with the brush. Then, I take an old rag and wipe down my sink and toilet with the T&T Cleaner. Result: a bathroom ready for any unexpected guest. Or just lil' ole me.

3. oMop Wood Floor Care Kit (Almond)
As proven in previous posts, my dogs can make my floors look disgusting without lifting a paw. Every Monday, I use the oMop with the almond-scented Wood Floor Cleaner. The mop pads that stick to the bottom of the oMop are reusable microfiber--just toss 'em in the wash after mopping and they're good as new for the next time. You're welcome, planet. And my floors look clean and shiny and smell like heaven! Here's to walking barefoot around the house!

PS: Congratulations for reading this far. Your reward is the latest news on our adoption : Still Waiting. Bet you wish you'd moved onto Pioneer Woman without wasting your time, eh? ;)

Waiting/Life Rules

2010-03-15T12:04:00.014-05:00

A few weeks ago, we received a very sweet gift in the mail from our adoption agency. It was a hardback book full of pictures from their orphanage. What a treasure! The accompanying letter urged us to heed two pieces of advice during this time of waiting:

1. Stay busy

2. Don't dwell on things you can't control

We've been taking that advice to heart this past week. In addition to my full-time job, I've helped out with the project in the below post. Between both jobs, I've ended up working 76 hours! The end result of extra income will be super-nice for our savings, but my body is a bit weary...

And regarding piece of advice #2, we've been trying to follow its piece of wisdom this week as well while rumors have been circulating about changes in the Ethiopian courts and what it will mean for our adoption process. Bottom line: whatever changes happen, we can't control them! International adoption is not for the faint of heart--it requires patience and flexibility in overwhelming quantities! But isn't that basically true of life in general...? ;)

In addition to the above craziness, Nick and I also celebrated our 4th Anniversary with a delicious dinner at The Beauty Shop. (One of our Memphis faves.) Afterwards, per annual tradition, we watched our wedding video. For some reason this year, I was moved to tears as I watched 2006 Jesse walk down the aisle on her father's arm, collecting flowers for her bouquet from some dear people in her life.

And then I realized that AAI was leaving out a third piece of advice:

3. Surround yourself with loved ones.

These women preceding me down the aisle and waiting in joyful expectation...these people handing me flowers for my bouquet...they were friends who had walked alongside me for a portion of life. And watching the scene, my heart missed them.

We made a huge life-change this past summer--we left the church we had invested our lives in for 8 years (5 years together) and placed membership at a new one. Without going into details, this was a hard but good change. We are delighted with what God is doing in our hearts and in our new church. We still treasure our previous church family, and we keep up strong friendships with many people there. 8 months later, we are "settling in" to this new church family. Settling in is hard. It reminds me of moving to a new city...or starting a new school...or definitely starting college. Settling in: you are familiar with your surroundings but you don't quite feel at home yet. And that's me. I've met acquaintances, but I miss my friends. It's weird feeling like a stranger in your own city.

So I guess I just want to say: Thank you, to all of you who have walked beside me in life. I think about you often, especially lately. You are "jewels in my heavenly crown."

Anthropologetic

2010-03-12T14:12:00.002-06:00

Super excited about and have been privileged to be tied up this week with this:

Memphis has arrived.

B&B&Beach

2010-03-05T13:41:00.006-06:00

Just a few pics from our weekend babymoon.

We had some beautiful weather--sunny, but chilly due to the breeze/wind.
The Henderson Park Inn was gorgeous and perfect.
(Pictured behind Nick in the top left corner)

Abiding

2010-02-24T15:52:00.004-06:00

Abide (verb):

To wait
To pause
To delay
To stay
To continue in a place
To have one's abode
To dwell
To sojourn
To remain stable or fixed in some state or condition
To continue
To remain
To wait for
To be prepared for

That about sums it up.

Now, because I know you'd be disappointed about waiting 25 days for this post and just getting the above material, I will expound...

The above picture is a shot from our nursery. Niiiiice, right? I believe it is a perfect summary of our current life. Let me note that while February tends to make me feel a little grey around the edges, I do not feel that itchy kind of impatience that just simmers under every surface (in regards to our adoption). I am abiding. I like that word. A lot. To me, it implies a patience and stillness that does not usually accompany waiting. A discipline and obedience. It also makes me think of fast falling eventides, deepening darkness, and the Help of the helpless. Don't get me wrong--I have my itchy moments, but overall my heart is just truly striving to abide.

Update on the adoption process for all you curious cats: We are on our agency's waiting list, and the next step will be a referral. (A referral is simply when they refer a specific child to us, in our case an infant 0-12 mos, and we have the opportunity to "accept." The referral will include all available information on that child, including a very sweet and much anticipated picture.) We then wait for a court date to be set in Ethiopia, during which we will be represented by someone from our agency. After we pass court, that child is legally considered "ours." A travel date is set after court is passed. Our "ballpark estimation" (aka: waaaay open to change) is that we might receive a referral at the end of March and be able to travel sometime this summer.

Now to use the above picture to describe our recent activities...

(1) The crib is assembled. It is beautiful and I love it and I am currently leaving it alone until we receive a referral.

(2) Inside the crib is a baby doll. We take the doll out of the crib once every day and say "Ohhhh sweet baby, I love you," in our baby voices. Moses inevitably comes running into the room, thinking we are speaking to him. We hold Fake Baby down for him to greet. Initially, he sniffed, licked, and then started chewing on Fake Baby's plastic hand. (He's a smart one, that dog.) He is only praised when he sniffs and walks away, which he now does. And I'm positive he is thinking, "Those looney people--that is a FAKE baby."

(3) I came home with an 18-24 mo. sized Star Wars t-shirt the other day, and I thought Nick was going to pass out from sheer joy and excitement.

(4) We moved our bookcases (pictured on the right) from their old spot (where the crib now resides) to the opposite wall. They hilariously leaned AWAY from the wall in Pisa-esque fashion. (Apparently the floors in this 60-year old rental home are not level? What?) We laughed, I documented the event on Facebook, and we moved the shelves to a different wall (with a much more level section of floor, of course). Hours later, I check FB only to find lots of public concern over the safety issue of my leaning bookshelves. *Sigh* Mother-guilt: I am already SO over it.

(By the way, the blue fabric underneath Nick's favorite teenytinytshirt will be used as curtains behind the bookshelf doors, so I can store whatever I please inside! Well, that was the original thought, but now I like the fabric so much I might use it for curtains instead! Let's face it--although fabric-hunting/nursery-decorating/teeny-tiny-clothes-purchasing is the ultimate materialistic side of becoming a parent, it is just so much stinkin' fun. "Nesting" is a universal motherhood-preparation experience, prego hormones or not.)

(5) I think I will look back on this photo in years to come and find that it sentimentally reminds me of the "abiding era." Oooo, stuff is a mess and all cluttery and crazy around here. But our hearts, minds, and house-space are slowly growing in expectation for our new child. We are "expecting."

So we're off this weekend to celebrate a post-Valentine's/pre-Anniversary/Babymoon in lovely Destin, FL, courtesy of a B&B gift certificate generously given to me last fall and some flight vouchers we scored around the same time. Almost-free vacay! I. Can't. Wait.

P.S. If you carry on, I will too.

2010-02-09T00:44:00.007-06:00

I don't know if you read NieNie, but I do. The subject line is from the bottom of her post from yesterday.

Carrying on. It's tough in February. Because I hate February.

I tried to sift through my February blog archives to come up with evidence of this. But apparently I've been too distracted these past few years and haven't felt the need to mention my least favorite month.

2005 was all "Year of the Boyfriend"...blech/aww. (Although, don't go looking for it--my blog didn't come into existence until May '05.)

2006 = "I'm getting married next month so who cares about February" (also known as "Pamper Yourself Month")

2007 found me still in the newlywed era, a month before my fantastic 1-year Anniversary Beach Trip. (Incidentally, that was the last 1-week-long vacation that I've been on...)

2008...had me a fancy (fairly) new job...traveled to small & obscure southern cities in neighboring states 'till I was blue in the face...training for my fancy new marathon in those fancy new hotel gyms.

2009: "Isn't Bikhram Yoga great? By the way, I just ran a marathon and I'm awesome."

Hello, 2010. The real "me" is back from la-la land...here to stay.

It's grey. Cold. Rainy. Muddy. Snowy. Rainy. Grey. and Rainy. It makes me...seasonally blue.

I would say the word that rhymes with "predressed," but I'm too scared--that is a big deal when you're trying to adopt. (Did you know that? I didn't, until recently.) Other countries do NOT like the "D" word and there is major stigma attached to it. So for fear that someone will come to my house and stamp "Unacceptable Parent" on my front door, I'll just share with you that February makes me seasonally blue. Blue/grey. Mostly grey.

(WHY do I like the idea of painting a boy's nursery grey??? It would be eternal February in there! Have I gone insane??)

I have some Life Rules for February that I made up way back in '02 when I began my first "real world" job:
1. Don't ever quit your job (or give notice to quit your job) in February.
2. Don't ever make any other major life decisions in February.

That's it, really. Just don't quit. And don't change. In Feburary.

I hope I've been of inspiration to you. HA.
If I didn't succeed, you can check this out. If the sun ever comes out again, I'm thinking of having a (wading) pool party, temperature to be unregarded. You're invited.

And lest I forget...NieNie has promised that she'll carry on if I will. Maybe my antiFebruary problems aren't so bad after all...

Yesterday...

2010-02-01T12:02:00.006-06:00

...we participated in a very important parental rite of passage.

It is not as monumental an experience as I would've liked it to be. We bought it online. So basically, Nick sat at the computer and we took turns, marveling "We are buying a crib," as he clicked through the process.

Not only that, but we got it for free.

You read that right--FREE. Here's how it happened: Nick's old desk had a bunch of stuff piled up on it. (Over the past couple of months, we cleaned it off, broke it down, and sold it on Craigslist. Sweet.) The week of Nick's final exam for his last grad school class, I (being the sweet wife that I am) cleaned the desk off and made it all nice and study-worthy.

Lo and behold, I uncovered a small stack of unused gift cards from stores we do not frequent often. (i.e. Not Target. Ha.) They had been given to us many moons ago during wedding shower season and had been misplaced over the years. In the stack of gift cards were two for Wal-Mart. Nick called to see if they had a balance. Yes, was the short answer. Totaling $150 was the longer answer!

After researching cribs and pouring over the ole' Baby Bargain book, I had found one I liked on Target.com. Met all three of my personal requirements: safe, well-reputable company, and low-priced. So I moseyed on over to Walmart.com to see what I could see. Not only was the SAME EXACT CRIB on their site, it was $30 less, thus making it well within our gift card limit.

That's how it's done, son.

(Thank you, generous wedding shower gifters, who have provided a lovely sleeping haven for Baby Faris.)

Ok, so it has begun. We have the crib. WHAT ELSE could your baby NOT live without? (Especially including the small things that aren't on the normal "must have" list.)
Designate: Gotta Have, Could Live Without, and Definitely Borrow. Let me have it, mothers!

Cabin Fever Entertainment

2010-01-31T14:15:00.008-06:00

It has looked like this since Friday evening.

Gorgeous, but we all know southerners are ill-prepared when it comes to ice & snow.
(By the way, what is the deal with rushing to the store for bread & milk?
If I get snowed in, I'd rather eat cupcakes & hot chocolate. Just sayin...)

What is there to do when you're trapped in 900 square feet of space for a whole weekend?
More importantly, what is there to do when your dogs are feeling equally cramped?

This is a classic game of "Moses places toy on lap and waits to be baited with it."
His eyes grow larger the closer the coveted toy gets to his face.
(Sorry for the dark picture--this was on Saturday pre-sunshine
when they icy grey was covering every living thing.)
What a cutie...

Recipe Rant

2010-01-28T10:14:00.004-06:00

Don't worry guys. I'm still here. It's so hard to remember to write about everyday things when this massive life change is taking place in the background--anybody with me? I keep waiting for "the next big step" to happen so I can tell you all about it. But this blog wasn't created to update you on my adoption. It's all about ME. So you'll just have to deal. Muahahaha.

I'm going old school today with a classic Jesse rant regarding recipes posted on the internet. Ok, let's say you're in the mood for a new chili recipe. You go on over to your old friends at allrecipes.com and have a little looksey. Bam--there it is. Best rated recipe by 523 people. If you're like me you always check out the comments--you can find valuable information like whether it's better if made the day before, if you can alter the instructions to make it in the crock pot, if you can freeze and then reheat, you get the picture. This is where my rant begins...

What is the deal with people that give the recipe 5 stars and say, "I absolutely loved this recipe..." and then continue in their comment to explain all the ways they changed the recipe. It's one thing to say "if you like your chili spicy, you can add a little extra Tabasco." (Except, duh--everyone knows that.) Or "I browned my beef before putting it in the crock pot because that makes it more flavorful." But it's an entirely different matter to say, "I substituted the ground beef for these three types of beans; instead of these 5 spices, I used these other 5 spices; I added 4 extra vegetables; And instead of canned tomatoes, I used pineapple juice." What the what? There is no way "you loved the recipe" if you changed everything about it.

Also, say this recipe had a "secret ingredient." I'll use the picture to the left as an example--this Cincinnati chili had unsweetened chocolate in it's recipe. It's the ingredient that when you taste the chili, you say "what is that fabulous taste that I can't seem to recognize??" For many dishes, true greatness has been solely linked to the secret ingredient factor. Well, the second person who commented on this recipe just blatantly omitted the chocolate. Because she wanted to. And then commented on how great the chili was. Even though she made it without the secret ingredient or BEANS. (I mean who makes chili without ANY beans?? Who are you, lady??) Note: Please do not comment on this post to tell me about the bean-less chili that you make and love.

It's fine and well if you want to alter a recipe to fit your preferences and lifestyle. But I believe this disqualifies you from commenting on the recipe--because you DON'T KNOW what the real recipe tastes like. You might as well just create your own recipe with your new alterations on which people can comment.

The disdain in this post is not coming from personal experience, for all of you wondering who dissed my recipe on the internet. (Ha.) It's just a cooking peeve that I've bottled up for a good long while. I would like to note that this practice of changing the entire recipe and then commenting on it is prevalent throughout the internet--Martha Stewart, Giada, Rachael Ray, and the honorable Missus Pioneer Woman...they all suffer from the recipe-changer-commenters. (Speaking of the honorable missus, another secret ingredient example: All the people who just left the coffee out of maple icing on PW's Cinnamon Rolls "because they don't like coffee." Just try it, people! The icing didn't even taste like coffee, and you missed out on a goooood thing. But even if you're not going to try it, don't post on her blog and tell her, because you sound lame.)

It's not like I post on other people's blogs and say things like "I completely agree with you, Sally. That dress is adorable on your little girl. Except I hate dresses. And I hate your little girl. So I really mean that I love the way my dog looks in a tutu." Or: "Decorating Diva, I was so enamored by your refinished toy chest that I decided to take on your project myself. Except instead of refinishing a toy chest, I used a couch. And instead of refinishing it, I reupholstered it."

Whew. It feels good to let that out. Now, I'm going to go make some coffee. But instead of using coffee grounds, I'm going to use a tea bag.

You Say It Best, When You Say [EverythingAllAtOnce]

2010-01-20T14:25:00.014-06:00

Hello, citizens of 2010. This deadbeat blogger is back on the scene.

Want a jumble of what we've been up to in the past month?
Too bad...you're getting one anyway...

Oh the joys of treating your dog-children like people-children.

One of our Christmas morning traditions is to let Moses loose on the wrapping paper and boxes when our gift-opening shindig is over. He never disappoints. Entertainment for at least half an hour is guaranteed.

I took your advice, bloggy friends, and started making small purchases for our baby. (See, I'm saying "our baby" too. I've been making large strides in the last month!) This was a purchase we made on a December 26th visit to the Pottery Barn Outlet. I know all my non-Memphian friends are so jealous that I live across the street from this rare treasure of a store, but my little Memphian self too often takes it for granted. Not this day--we bought stockings for $6 each! (And the store was EMPTY--I absolutely love our small city!)
I say stockings in the plural because Nick and I had a hilarious little conversation
in front of the shelves that went a little something like this:

Jesse: Love it. This is so cute.
Nick: Agreed. Let's check out.
Jesse: Wait...um...
Nick: ??
Jesse: Well, don't you think our kids should have matching stockings?
Nick: What kids?
Jesse: Well, if we have more than one kid, I think the stockings should match.
Nick: Ok.
Jesse: So how many kids do you want?
Nick: Umm...I don't know. How many kids do YOU want?

And thus, the conversation unfolded in a hilarious manner. We ended up buying 3 stockings, in case you're curious. I decided if we have a 4th kid, we'll just have to have a 5th & 6th so we can have another trio of matching stockings. BAHA!

We also got another steal of a deal on this day, but more about that later...

A decade ago, on the eve of the year 2000, I spent my first and only New Year's Eve away from Atlanta. (In Auburn, Toomer's Corner to be exact, with a kajillion college students jam-packed in an intersection with lots of noise and no countdown. Lame-o. War Eagle.) Every other year before and since, we have celebrated in the Atl with a scrumptious seafood dinner.
Check out the size of these King Crab legs my dad brought home this year!
The big pieces were as large as chicken fingers!

The above picture has consumed my life since the week before Thanksgiving.
(I feel like this picture is the equivalent of seeing a picture of Belize in July and not "getting" the immense and overwhelming heat...because it just doesn't translate on film. Y'know?)

My original goal was to have the dossier sent in by the end of the year. If you know me and goals, we are BFFE's. I am all about a goal, especially when it's in December. (I have been teased in the past for cracking down on those old New Year's resolutions in December before the year expires--the way I see it, I have the entire year to try to complete my resolution. Who cares if I didn't drink 8 glasses of water for the first 11 months of the year? I "completed" my goal by the year's end and that's what counts, right? ha.)

Back to the dossier: I was a paperwork maniac. Let me also mention that I am in absolute organization-love with our international adoption agency. They sent us a folder with a list of the 20-something items we needed to compile our dossier. Behind the list was a SAMPLE of everything needed. AAI knows how to rock a dossier. And so do I. So here I am, the week before Thanksgiving, rocking it out at the bank, the Sheriff's office, the doctor's office...I am a document-scanning wizard...a collection queen. I imagine a medal being placed around my neck that says: "Fastest Dossier Compilation. Ever." After our Thanksgiving travels, I'm on the mission to wrap everything up and cross the finish line,
which means dropping it in the holy grail FedEx dropbox.

[Here is the sound of screeching brakes.]

It had never occurred to me that I was finishing everything too fast! My poor husband was working on his final project, term paper, and studying for the final exam for his very last grad school class the week that I raised my fist a la Julia Child-esque and said "Tadaaaaa!" (I know, I am a jerk.) So after a family meeting, we decided to put the dossier on hold and focus on the December tasks at hand. Nick was already overwhelmed with finishing school and our bank account was feeling a little fatigued with our recent/future travels and Christmas gift purchases.

It was at this point in time that I shocked myself. Let me rephrase: The Holy Spirit shocked me. I felt that peace. The kind that is outside of one's realm of knowledge. I am the type of person who likes to finish a project once it's started. And here this "Project of All Projects" was sitting on my desk and instead of feeling freaked out, I felt...fine. This will happen when it happens. And come to think of it, I have never felt ants-in-my-pants-I-just-can't-take-one-more-second impatient about this process at any point in time. (Thus far.) I praise God for that, because I know that he has called us to this. That He is present with us as we take this journey. That His Spirit is calming my heart and (mostly) my mind.

So we set this deal that after our trip to Atlanta for New Year's,
we would finish up on the dossier and send it in towards the end of January.
And that is what we did.

We mailed this puppy out last Friday.
It felt almost as good as crossing the marathon finish line.

(This is actually not the VERY end of our paperwork adventure, but the rest is a cake walk. Kind of. Right?)

So back to the deal of a steal from PB Outlet.
I got this desk for $100.

(Rolling chair from Ikea for $25!)

I have to give you the back-story on the desk:
I saw it a few months ago when we were browsing for fun.
I told Nick, "This is my desk." He said, "We'll see."
I went back to visit the desk a few days later and it had sold.
I asked if they had any in the back.
The employee said no, but he gave me the name of the desk
and told me I could call every few days to see if any came in a new shipment.
I called about the Riley desk. Every day.
The PB Outlet employees laughed at me in the break room. I'm sure of it.
I gave up.
And behold, the day after Christmas, with baby stockings in hand, I spot the desk.
Nick is not so sure. It is $350. That is more than we had saved for a desk.
Pleasepleasepleaseplease. I'll do the dishes for a week. Just kidding. A day. :)
During the financial negotiation, a man walks up in a cowboy hat.
He says, "Excuse me, but that exact desk is on the other side of the store and it's a lot cheaper."
I tell Nick to check it out. I'm not leaving my desk. It could be a trick.
Nick comes back and says lo and behold, the same desk is over there.
I ask the employee about it and he says that the Riley desk just changed manufacturers.
The lower-priced Riley desks were made from the old manufacturer and they have to get rid of them.
They are brand new, never taken out of the box.
Oh, and all office furniture is an extra 25% off.
Thank you, cowboy man...wherever you are.

Riley desk is perfect because
(1) it already has a name,
(2) it has a portion underneath that slides out on wheels, making the desk larger,
and (3) it has a powerstrip on top and one plug that goes from the desk to the outlet.
Perfect desk for a tight-fitting office space.

Which, by the way, just recently moved to my bedroom.
My office and Moses's crate are now in our bedroom, thus freeing the nursery to be baby's dog-hair-free (yeah, right) and play-area safe haven.

Itty bitty homes call for creative measures. Can I get a what?what?
(To the left of where I'm standing in the doorway is an antique dresser, the closet, and my bedside table, with a stretch of rug between the bed and the dresser where the dogs like to lay while I work.)

Since my last post, I am definitely feeling like an almost-mom. I've been reading up on parent-lit and I now know the current safety regulations for cribs and car seats. We now call the old man-room/old office the new nursery. I know what I want to put in it and (mostly) what I want it to look like. I am fully aware of my numbered childless days and have been basking in the freedom of going to a last-minute movie, a baby-sitterless dinner date, or just staying in on a cold, rainy day and reading a good book under a blanket. "Just you wait," people say. Yeah, I know. I am. Waiting. :)

Christmas is Coming, The Goose is Getting Fat

2009-12-22T15:36:00.008-06:00

Speaking of the goose getting fat, we ate SALAD for dinner every night last week! No joke. It's hard to believe this time last year I was recovering from my first full marathon. I could barely run a mile today. *Sigh* Salad Week was actually the greatest idea EVER, and I have deemed it an annual tradition. (Made me feel less guilty about eating all those baked Christmas goodies.)

Speaking of baked Christmas goodies...tonight's the night for the Sugar Cookies. None can match this top-secret recipe of my MIL's--they are famous! (I actually don't know if the recipe is top-secret, but it makes it seems much more special if considered as a family heirloom.) Also on the menu for this week: Peppermint Fudge, a few Pioneer Woman goodies (oh, you'd better believe I've joined THAT covered bandwagon), Chicken & Waffles, and a small-sized but delicious Turkey Dinner.

Speaking of the Turkey Dinner, I had a fool-proof plan for the Big Momma Grocery Trip of 2009 this year. In year's past, I've panicked as the one meat item I was looking for was sold out or found in a different form/cut than what the recipe called for. This year, it was all about contingency plans. Here is what my list looked like:

And lo and behold, I got the last boneless turkey breast with skin on. That's right, friends. I've finally decided that while cooking a whole turkey is something to feel proud of, it's ridiculous for a dinner crowd of 2. Let's keep it simple, shall we? I can still make the herb-stuffed roasted turkey with pan gravy, the buttermilk mashed potatoes, the creamed spinach & green bean bundles, the blue cranberry sauce...I'll just be making LESS of them.

Speaking of making less of things, in our house we make less of a big deal about STUFF around Christmastime and we try to make much of the spirit of Advent. That's right, Charlie Brown, that big empty, exhausted, broke feeling you have on December 26 is NOT the meaning of Christmas! I feel my evangelical roots have failed me when it comes to the Advent Season. Advent means "coming" and it officially begins four Sundays before Christmas. It is all about the excitement, longing, hope, perseverance, and rejoicing in the coming of Christ. Like Israel in exile, we ALL need to be "ransomed" from what has "captured" us in this life. And the birth of Jesus Christ, in this world many years ago and in our hearts even now, brings light to the dark places. A new tradition for the Faris celebration of the Advent Season is our modern interpretation of the Advent Wreath.

Each night (ok, MOST nights...ha), we read the day's Scripture as we light the candles. (The first week of Advent, you just light one candle, and with each week you light an additional candle. By the week of Christmas, your whole wreath is glowing and reminding you that the Light of the World is near!) Nick and I have remarked that this new tradition has truly made us excited about the approach of Christmas, not just for the anticipation of "what's inside the gifts under our tree" but because we are truly excited and joyful about the advent, the coming, of our True Gift. And THAT's what the meaning of Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown. [Loo loo looooo, loo loo loo loooo loooo] (That's supposed to invoke the image of the Peanuts kids standing around the CharlieBrowniest Christmas tree, "loo-ing" Hark the Herald Angels Sing...)

Speaking of how you don't care about any of this and just want to know WHEN WE ARE GETTING THE KID... (Haha--just kidding everyone. I know you would actually rather hear about my shopping list, right?)

Boy, oh boy, everyone. In keeping with the theme, everything and nothing has changed. We are now finished with the Home Study, and we're practically finished with the Dossier. (To refresh your memory, the dossier is the big fat stack of official, notarized papers saying we are legit people and fit to be parents of an Ethiopian child. It gets sent all around the country and world, ending in Ethiopia.) "Practically finished" means finished but not sent. And it's not sent because we're trying not to get ahead of ourselves financially.

BUT WHEN ARE YOU GETTING THE KID? Yeah, yeah, I know what you really want to know. The answer is I don't know/probably summertime/Believe me, I'm wondering the same thing. :)

Speaking of getting the kid, we have now entered the stage in this adoption when we've begun saying phrases like "our baby" or "the baby" in more possessive terms. This is a weird feeling. (Any of you parents-to-be relate with that?) For example, Nick and I fill stockings for each other and as part of the contents this year we said, "Let's give each other something for the baby." Aughhh! The baby! Our baby!

I have been hesitant of thinking this way for several reasons:
(1) The Faris baby/our baby is not our baby right now. He/She is being born/has been born to someone else. And it feels weird to start speaking possessively of him/her. In some small way, I want to honor the birth family in this.

(2) It's just plain weird thinking about myself as a mommy when I'm livin' everyday life in the same ole' same ole'. There is no "presence" of baby in our lives. This transition of thinking of myself as a parent starts happening when I begin thinking of "this time next year" or what in the WORLD kind of car seat do we need to buy in the next six months. (Ha, I will take advice on all baby supplies in a near-future post--start thinking about those essentials to share with me, all you parenting veterans!)

So here's where you weigh in, regardless of how you became (or will become) a parent:
What did you do (or what do you think I should do) to start the mental/emotional transition of thinking of myself as a mom (in the next 6 or so months!) ?

Through the Years We All Will Be Together

2009-12-16T10:09:00.008-06:00

Well, hello there! Glad you stopped by. I'll bet you were wondering when I was going to start posting about my favorite holiday. Today's the day, my friend.

I thought I'd give you a little taste of Faris holiday tradition over the next few days. These are the things I look forward to when the air turns crisp and smells like snow. (I say "smells" because we rarely get snow in Memphis until one random day in March, usually.)

GRANDMA BOB'S HOUSE ORNAMENTS

(Not until recently did I stop to think it was odd to have a grandmother named "Grandma Bob." This name came about because my grandfather had a Grandpa Bob that he adored, and therefore when he became a grandparent he requested that he and his wife be called "Grandma & Grandpa Bob." So there ya go.)

Ever since I was born, I have received ornaments from family members. (I believe one or two of them owned Hallmark stores when I was younger, and therefore the Hallmark ornaments became a gift tradition.) For my first Christmas in 1980, Grandma Bob sent me the first ornament in a new series that was beginning that year--a little pink Victorian house. It fit in the palm of my hand, and if you turned it over, the backside was open just like a dollhouse, and you could see the little furniture and Christmas decorations. Obviously in 1980 I didn't care much about receiving this ornament. But over the next decade, I loved playing with these little house ornaments and I always looked forward to seeing what the next one in the series would look like. A library, a fire station, a candy shoppe...all with little green Christmas trees decorating their interiors.

As I grew older, Grandma kept asking if I still wanted to receive the ornaments as my Christmas gift. When I was 21, she even wrote me a note and told me she had expected the series to end by then and she'd be more than happy to send me something else if I wished. But those little house ornaments were still my favorite, and I kept requesting them. Every year when my family put up the tree and the boxes of ornaments were brought down from the attic, I looked forward to seeing those sentimental relics of my childhood.

Grandma Bob passed away the day Nick and I got engaged, in October 2005. That Christmas, the new house ornament was still there waiting to be unwrapped. My mother picked up the tradition, and I still receive the ornaments as a gift.

Eventually my box of ornaments made it over to Memphis from my parents' home. (As you might recall from the picture to the left, we were without ornaments for our first married Christmas and had to use our Save the Date cards!)

I now have 31 house ornaments (there was an extra ornament made on the 25th anniversary) and they alone have filled our tree! I look forward to letting my children play with them as they grow up...and one day when the set is complete, perhaps I'll set them to a collector and use the money for my kids' college tuition. :) (Perhaps oui, perhaps non!)

PS: On a more eccentric but no less sentimental note, this is my favorite ornament:

Miss Piggy dressed as an angel was given to me as a child, and she still has the same heavenly smell of vanilla as she did the day I opened her box for the first time. I was a big Miss Piggy fan as a child (obscure fact), and I always insisted on giving her the best spot on the tree--front and center. My younger brother Cody had a matching Kermit the Frog (who was dressed up with skis and a toboggan), and we played the "Hallelujah Chorus" on the record player every year as we placed them together on the tree. I'm weird. I know.

The End to an Era

2009-12-15T10:41:00.009-06:00

Hello, friends. I am still alive. I know you were wondering.

We are finally exiting the 5.5-year black hole in our house entitled "Nick's Masters of Divinity." The end times have been upon us for the last month and a half and there were many days we felt swallowed up by the abyss. Appropriately, Nick's last class was on Revelation. So his end days were spent studying the end days. Term Paper, Media Project, Final Exam--these were the great red dragons of the past times and half a time.

The iPhoneish picture to the left is one that is displayed on our mantle--taken from our wedding day. When I first met Nick, he was beginning his first year of grad school and I was finishing my last. The entire time I have known him, he has been working on this degree. He was a full-time student until last year, when he took a full-time job and finished his remaining classes on the side. An M.Div is not your regular ole' Master's Degree. It requires 80-something hours of classes--we have friends that have become DOCTORS in the six years it will have taken Nick to receive his degree! (The school only graduates students in May, so alas, he must wait to be completely finished until the spring.) Our entire first years of marriage have been focused towards finishing this degree. And in this last month & a half, it has been exhausting and exhilarating to approach Mile 26 on this marathon journey.

Nick took his last final exam EVER last Thursday. In a very unfortunate turn of events, I got sick last Monday and he not only spent every waking moment studying for his exam, but he took care of pitiful little me as well! SUPERHUSBAND! When he returned from school on Thursday evening, this was waiting for him...

Celebratory cupcakes from Muddy's--our favorite bake shop.
(Featured in the Dec/Jan issue of Rachael Ray magazine, by the way!)

And this...

Reading for pleasure is out of the question when you're working on a Master's Degree. The thousands of pages Nick read this fall (and for the past 5.5 years!) have all been required. One of the things he was most looking forward to (besides having his life back) was reading whatever he wanted! Not only is my husband a nerd, but he's a sports freak as well. (Wow! What more could a girl ask for?!) The Sports Guy's new book was at the top of his list of want-to-reads, and his wish was my command. I am so proud of him--this is only the first of many end-times-treats!

What now, you ask? Well, we will enjoy a life of luxury in which we will cease draining our bank account for books & tuition (and we'll start draining our bank account paying back those student loans!), we will not be chained to a class schedule of exams, papers, and study breaks, Nick can finally pursue his call from God to be a minister, and we can focus wholeheartedly on this new journey to becoming parents.

What's that you say? Christmas is NEXT WEEK? Well have no fear, my friends. The Advent Season is finally being fully celebrated at our house, with yesterday beginning the first day of our annual 12 Days of Christmas. More to come on our traditions and celebrations!

World AIDS Day

2009-12-01T17:06:00.008-06:00

How do you greet someone on a day that is observed with seriousness? (I can't tell you "Happy" World AIDS Day...what do I say instead?) By the way, my sidebar has been fooling you this whole time--I thought World AIDS Day was on December 5th, but alas it is 12/01 and the day is upon us.

While looking for some red to wear today, I realized...Neither Nick nor I own red shirts. This totally sums up our extreme dislike for UGA & Bama.

I feel passionate about the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa for three main reasons:

1. This book:

2. This book, too:

3. This video:

Wanting to help in some way? Here are three (among many) options:

1. From HIV to Home has a promotion called "5 for Five"--beginning today, they are asking for $5 a day for the next five days to put towards five different projects that will be featured on their website.

2. Also, AHOPE is looking for families to sponsor the 15 additional children with HIV that will be cared for in their orphanages thanks to a new larger facility.

3. And while you're at it, swing by Starbucks today for a sweet treat--they're donating 5 cents of each purchase to the (RED) fund. A Gingerbread Latte with Soy never tasted so good...

I Need Africa...

2009-11-18T16:12:00.001-06:00

This video makes my heart sigh...

Five for Five

2009-11-17T16:24:00.005-06:00

"From HIV to Home" is an organization that Nick & I support--I invite you to join them in this great initiative! World AIDS Day is on December 5th...

Only 15 days left til we raise our voices

for orphans around the world living with HIV...

Take this chance to spread the word today -

on your Facebook page, through twitter,

on your blog, with an email....

Invite those around you to join in.

Send them to www.fromhivtohome.org

and tell them to click on the World AIDS Day graphic.

A Rant Regarding Copycats

2009-11-10T11:41:00.004-06:00

Here is something I've been thinking about recently...
I hate being a copycat.

If you know me, then you know this. I hesitate to copy people, and I hate when people copy me. (There are exceptions to this, friends, so don't start second-guessing yourselves!) I like to be original.

(This reminds me of ye ole' college days when Ashley and I would scurry in competition to find the coolest original decorating idea for our separate apartments/duplexes. All these years later, you win, my friend...by a landslide!)

So our recent decision to adopt has been problematic for my ego. Because we have dear friends who have adopted. From Ethiopia. Any mutual friends between us hear of our exciting news and say/think, "Oh, like the Rays!" or "Oh, you're getting 'your own Sophie!' "

International adoption is apparently all the rage in Hollywood, so we get a lot of "Oh, like Angelina!" or "Oh, like Madonna!" etc.

Women my age identify with giving birth. (Want to start excited chatter among a group of women? Just start asking what the birth of their children was like.) But adoption...well, it's a stretch to connect with adoption. So we get a lot of "Oh, like my second cousin once removed adopted!"

I know in my head that people are just trying to connect...to find a way to be excited or knowledgeable. But inside my (prideful) heart, I am thinking, "No, we are doing something that we decided to do ourselves, separate from other people we know about!" And then I just get belligerent and irrational, "WE ARE DOING SOMETHING BRAND NEW THAT'S NEVER BEEN DONE BEFORE!" Deep breaths.

Here's the deep-down reason why I think it bothers me: It takes away the excitement of the news. Let's say my friend Sally tells me she's pregnant. Do I respond by exclaiming, "Oh, just like your sister Betty was!" or "Jennifer Garner was pregnant a few years ago!" or "My friend's cousin did that!"

No one considers pregnant women as "copying" other pregnant women (in general). And in general, no one really voices their concern over someone getting pregnant: "Well, you know Betty's child turned out to be a little terror. I hope Sally can handle this."

I just want to be treated as an original, like everyone else.

But then again, there is nothing new under the sun. And if you really think about it, our lives are all about being copycats...our houses look like knock-offs of our favorite home decor stores. Our clothes look like the catalogs of our favorite designers. Our speech is the same dialect of the region in which we live. And if there is Someone we should really be known for copying...well, you know where this is going...

This journey has been teaching me:
(1) When I encounter someone else's experience, I should respond to it (with joy or sadness) "as is," without trying to tether myself to the situation in some way with my own experiences.
(2) If I am compared to anyone in this life, I hope ultimately it is to my Father, who adopted me as his daughter and loves me perfectly.

What Every Chef Should Have...

2009-11-06T16:05:00.005-06:00

A mandolin slicer.

Yes, my friends, you must have one. Quick, thin slices.

(That is carrot on the blade--don't worry.)

But make sure you also have some of these...

...on hand. Pun intended.

Oops. (Again.)

(Big sunglasses make everything better, though, don't you think?)

Hairy Mondays

2009-11-03T11:56:00.005-06:00

Have you ever wondered how much extra cleaning a dog is worth?

I sweep my house daily (with this).

I vacuum my house every Monday (with this).

This Dyson (still goin' strong!) is full of the contents of ONLY the living room space seen in the background. Ew. Babies aren't dirtier than THIS, are they? ;)

If You Can't Beat 'Em, Try to Change Their Minds...

2009-11-02T13:38:00.005-06:00

I'll be the first one to say that Christmas is my favorite holiday.
I'm no Scrooge.
However, I think we have some hurry-sickness in today's Ameircan culture that is displaying itself in the form of skipping holidays. No, it's not Christmas-time, Target--Thanksgiving comes first. And while some people may hate that holiday because getting stuff isn't involved and it seems kind of boring, it happens to still exist. We don't decorate for Christmas in our house until Thanksgiving has passed. And that's the way it is. (And we could all do a little better looking forward to the holiday that celebrates being grateful, don't you think?)

But this leads me to my larger beef with Christmas. I won't even get started with the more serious sicknesses America has linked with this holiday. I'll let the video speak for itself...

What do you think about this? I'm 100% on board--who's with me?
(For more information on the Advent Conspiracy, visit their website here.)

Halloweenie

2009-10-29T11:01:00.007-05:00

Wow, tough crowd this week, eh?

(At this very moment the BlogPatrol ticker says there have been 999 visitors since I've started counting earlier this month. Who will be #1,000? The suspense is killing me!)

An acquaintance-friend of mine stated earlier this week that she doesn't like Halloween. I felt a surge of relief at this confession. Because I don't either.

I don't know what happened. I love all things autumn, I love candy, I love pumpkins (to look at and eat), I love the color orange (thanks to my Alma Mater--War Eagle!).

I do not like being scared, though. I do not like creepy things. I do not like eyeballs. Or spiders. Or severed hands. I do not like haunted houses or corn mazes. I REALLY do not like people with chainsaws. Perhaps this is the source?

Something has changed over the years, as I truly loved my childhood Halloweens. We had a big box of costumes that my mother would pull down out of the attic. It had this musty smell, and that is what Halloween "smells like" to me. We pulled out the face paints and the accessories. We all had our favorites. I remember being a Black Cat for several years in a row--I loved that costume. Don't worry...I changed it up each year with a different variation. First, straight up Black Cat. Next, Rich Black Cat. After that, Rich AND Famous Black Cat. (This is achieved by putting sparkles on your face and wearing a boa around your neck.) Well, you get the picture. (It didn't help that upstate New York always snowed on Halloween, meaning we had to wear our big fat snow coats over our costumes...Rich & Famous Fat Black Cat.)

We did not buy many costumes--most were handmade by mom. The best kind! One of the costumes my mother made that all of us wore around age 3 was a Clown Suit. It was made out of solid bright orange polyester and orange & white striped polyester. I found out years later that it had originally been a pant-suit my grandmother had made for my mom when she was in college. I wonder how Grandma felt about that when she saw the pictures of the recycled creation. Good thing we were cute kids--I'm sure that made it better.

Then there was the year that my mom made matching costumes for all of her children. We went Trick-or-Treating as...The California Raisins. We had sheets that had been dyed purple and puckered up to look like raisins. We had oversized white gloves with big cotton balls stuffed in the finger tips. Adorable. And we all pouted the whole evening because we thought it was lame.

Speaking of lame, someone should have told my 7th-grade self that the Poodle Skirt Grandma made for me was JUST for Halloween. Because I wore it to school in January. Just for fun. My mom asked during breakfast if there was some kind of theme day at school? Nope. Didn't I want to change into pants, because it's awfully cold outside? Nope. Okaaaay. (Thanks a lot, Mom.) It took half of homeroom to figure out I'd made a huge fashion faux pas. I hid in the bathroom for the rest of the day.

Speaking of lame AND hiding...that's what I'll be doing this Saturday. Turning off all the lights and hiding in the back of my house. I apologize in advance to the two teenagers and random weird adult who will knock on my door in search of candy. I am a Halloweenie.

The Great Blog Makeover of 2009

2009-10-27T12:02:00.005-05:00

My friend Brooke recently joked about when my blog banner was going to change from pictures dog-children to human-children. (Don't worry, we plan on calling our human-children just "our children" like everyone else.) Perhaps you have been wondering the same thing too, my bloggie friends.

So ta daaaa--here's the new (temporary) blog banner. As you've probably noticed, not much has changed about this blog since the announcement of our adoption. (Thus, my subject line was really just a hoax to get you here...muhawhahaha!) I will probably add a time-line soon for you to refer to, but other than that...this is it! I do have favorite adoption websites and blogs of adoptive families that I peek at now and then, but I'll keep 'em to myself for now.

Don't fret reader-friends--Your Mom's Blog will remain changing but unchanging, the theme of my current mindset! (And please excuse the unorganized disarray--the sidebars will be back-to-normal soon!)

For the creatively-written, charming story of the blog banner picture, click here.

And speaking of dog-children, I would be remiss without relaying how this transition is affecting them. And that is: not much. Except that the vet recommended Moses not be allowed on the couch any longer so that he will know "who's boss." While Moses does know who is boss (Nick? Me? I'll let you wonder about that...), the introduction of Baby Faris is sure to confuse him, as he will naturally assume Baby is #5 on the totem pole. But alas, Baby will be #3 and also allowed on the couch, which is what will hopefully sink into Moses' lion-sized head. Owens, as always, is happy to show his humble submission to all family members. Thus, the displacement of Moses from his couch-throne has meant that he has displaced Owens from his bed. Sweet Owens, good thing that new rug is nice and thick. :)

The Necessity of Idealism

2009-10-22T13:55:00.011-05:00

So, I am going to be a mom.
Nick is going to be a dad.

Together, we are mentally making that transition into thinking of ourselves as parents. Which is hard, because usually there is outward, physical change (that everyone can see). But for us, it is inward--emotional & mental. (I am batting around the idea of taking pictures of our growing stack of paperwork as opposed to the traditional growing-belly pics. At least there's something to show, eh?) Nonetheless..we feel...expectant. :)

I recently posted about our time-line and shared some thoughts about why we chose international adoption. I followed up with the fact that I know that those feelings/beliefs are idealistic. Which leads me to this post...and we're going deeeeep. (So if you prefer lighter topics such as fall recipes and my love for grey pumpkins, your time is coming my friend.) :)

There is a constant tension that I feel in regards to our adoption...

* On one hand: Excitement. We're going to be parents! We're going to have a baby in our family soon! We are doing a good thing for the world! We have joy that God has called us (Nick & me) to do this and that we are honoring Him. Our family will be a strong Biblical picture of how God adopts each one of us as His sons and daughters and brings us into His family.

(Note: Ok, here is the part where I need to say something for fear of being misunderstood: Let it stand for the record that I do NOT think that families that are NOT formed through adoption are unBiblical or not honoring God. Please hear that and know that I celebrate the way God brings ALL kinds of families together--not just mine!)

* On the other hand: Grief. This is the hard reality that we face. Adoption ALWAYS includes loss. Adoption is NOT the ideal. Something very painful will happen in our child's life that will cause our adoption of him or her to become a reality. Every Mother's & Father's Days that pass, a part of me will think of our child's birthparents. Every birthday, part of me will honor the two people that brought life to our child. And our child will feel that loss, no matter how hard we try to be wonderful parents to him/her.

The definition of idealism: "the cherishing or pursuit of high or noble principles, purposes, goals, etc."

Nick and I, at many times in this process, are clinging to idealism. We are cherishing and pursuing principles, purposes, and goals that we believe reflect the heart of God. But reality says that the only reason idealism is necessary is because we live in a very dark and broken world. In an ideal world, there would not be disease, poverty, hunger, death. In an ideal world, our child would be able to grow up and thrive in their birthfamily. A true ideal situation means that we aren't even part of this equation. And that can be painful...realizing our family is being created because of something that is broken.

You might remember a kind-of-strange post I wrote regarding Mother's Day--it came from wrestling with these feelings. This experience of sitting in my church on a Sunday morning while the "mothers" were asked to stand. Anticipating the day in the next year or two that I would stand among the mothers. And even more, wondering whether the birthmother of my child was standing now. And would she stand in the future?

Here are just a few phrases you will never hear me say because of their implications of reality:
* "God has chosen a child just for us." (God chose for our child to be "orphaned?")
* "Ugh, it's excruciating how long this wait-time is." (Couldn't there be more orphans in the world so I can have one sooner?)
* (To our child) "Mommy & Daddy wanted a baby, and God found you across the world and brought you to us." (More like, God brought us to you!)

This is why we have a necessity for idealism. Because knowing the world is broken can make you want to get into your bed and pull the covers up to your chin. But believing that things can change...things can be made new...that "the Lord puts the lonely in families" (Ps 68:6)...that sometimes just because something is difficult doesn't mean it isn't right...that beauty can come from ashes...This is what we cling to. This is our hope.

John F. Kennedy once said, "I'm an idealist without illusions." And that is how I see it. We have no illusions that this is the best scenario or even that this will be easy (for anyone involved). But we have to believe that this is the right thing...that the new ideal for a child without a family to provide care is for him/her is to become a part of ours...that God can do a new thing.

“An optimist is a person who sees only the lights in the picture, whereas a pessimist sees only the shadows. An idealist, however, is one who sees the light and the shadows, but in addition sees something else: the possibility of changing the picture, of making the lights prevail over the shadows.” (Unknown)

Good Charlotte (Trip)

2009-10-21T15:33:00.009-05:00

So apparently Columbus Day weekend is a very popular travel weekend? Who knew?

We had planned for several months to travel to Charlotte, NC to visit our dear friends, the Nasmyths. Ibby is my best friend from high school and I really love his wife Erin and now their new baby girl, Olivia--this year's trip kicked off an annual family vacation we'll take together for mostly the ultimate purpose of making our kids be friends with each other. :) Olivia was just 6 months old for this vacation, so we chose to go to her instead of making her drive her parents to a different location.

Sad reality: Sometimes great vacations mean you have so much fun relaxing that you forget to take pictures--so here's the most recent pic I have of the four adults, taken the 2008 10-yr Reunion.

We had some crazy flight delays, resulting in missed connections and flying standby on the next flight out of Atlanta to Charlotte. However, we did luck out with two $10 meal vouchers for our inconvenience...which we spent on Ben & Jerry's in the Atlanta airport. (Pumpkin Cheesecake and Coffee ice cream flavors go together WONDERFULLY by the way, in case you had any doubts!) I did find it funny that you could spend your voucher on $10 worth of food or ONE drink. (I'm guessing that's alcoholic--but still, that's an expensive drink!) While standing in line at the customer service desk for the vouchers I overheard the AirTran lady tell someone else, "Sir, it IS a holiday weekend after all..." I know Christopher Columbus would be so proud to know his holiday is such a big deal!

Our weekend in Charlotte was filled with doting on Olivia, eating delicious food, and having great conversations & catch-up. (I have been craving the Banana-Walnut French Toast at Blu Basil every day since I ate it, as well as Ibby & Erin's Curried Chicken w/ Apples and Sweet Potatoes. Is it a sign that you love food too much when the memories you take from a vacation are centered around what you ate?)

As mentioned above, we were neglectful in taking pics, so here is one Nick took right before we left. As you can tell, Olivia and I are BFF now.

So the trip back...is really the main story of the blog post. Delays, delays, delays. Our flight out of Charlotte was delayed. Our connecting flight out of Atlanta was cancelled and they booked us on the later (delayed) flight. We spent the rest of our meal vouchers & time eating/hanging at (appropriately) Atlanta Bread Company with my mom, who came down to to visit us for a couple hours. When the flight time came, we went to the gate only to find the plane was overbooked. We were first in line to volunteer giving up our seats because of the sweet deal we got out of it:

2 round-trip flight vouchers...EACH!!!
Upgrade to business class on our flight the next day, because we didn't need a hotel voucher
24-hours to hang out with my parents (& extra midterm-study-time for Nick)

We were so excited about our travel-savvyness and the inconvenience was FAR outweighed by the compensation. We basically got a buy one vacation, get two free deal!

We're headed to the beach in the spring for our 4th anniversary, using a gift certificate to a B&B from my employer (how nice are they?!) and 2 of our vouchers will save us an 8-9 hour drive. Sweet.

So...where should we go to use the other two vouchers? Ideas?

Rainy Day Reading

2009-10-07T12:14:00.003-05:00

The past couple days in Memphis looked like this:

And I was reading this:

Best combination ever.

(PS: Oh yeah, I'm finally hooked on the Twilight series. I know I'm late to the game, but I was saving it for a time that I would welcome the distraction of vampire love stories. And for the record, I was a little bored in "New Moon" (compared to "Twilight") but just waded through to get to the good stuff--is it coming in "Eclipse?")

What is the best book + surrounding atmosphere combo that you've experienced?

Conspiracy Theory

2009-10-06T13:33:00.004-05:00

Boy oh boy, do I love shopping at Target.
Not only is there one right across the street from my neighborhood, but there is a beefed up brand-new Target just five minutes down the road. And by "beefed up," I mean: Not a SuperTarget, but almost. (Larger than a regular Target, better selection, and with an extended grocery section that is good enough for my pantry, fridge, and frozen items.)

Each week, I hit up the East Memphis Target (which my husband refers to as Poplar Target, because he thinks the Colonial Target should be East Memphis Target) and then supplement my produce needs at good ole' Easy Way Produce Store on the way home.

The only thing I do not like about this system is Target's Market Pantry (cheaper brand) milk.

Every time I buy Market Pantry 1% milk, it has a funny taste. And I mean, break the seal, pop off the cap, pour the first glass...funny taste. The milk tastes like it's been sitting in the fridge just a little too long...not bad, but just "off."

As a result, I began buying the more expensive (by $1) Archer Farms organic 1% milk. Oh my goodness, that milk is SO GOOD. It's so creamy I constantly think I bought the wrong percentage, and it tastes deliciously fresh. And I think it's a conspiracy.

Target, I would like to call you out for adding "Weird Taste" concentrate to your Market Pantry milk. It's just not fair that I have to shell out the big bucks for some delicious dairy.

What about you guys? What is your favorite brand of milk, and what is the brand you avoid at all costs?

Ode to All Things Autumnal

2009-10-01T10:51:00.005-05:00

My husband won the prize for best story about our home visit experience. Check it out and give him some positive reinforcement for mixing things up and posting about something non-theological! (I love his brain, but I also love his wit & humor!)

In other news, I have something very sad to share: The St Jude Half Marathon has already filled up! Before I could register! I have no race to run! I was quite bummed about this, as I always wait until the weather cools before finally "committing." Apparently, there were quite a few anxious people in training this year that wanted to reserve their spot. Well good for them, I guess. Instead, I'll be running some 5K's & 10K's and as I've mentioned in my past few posts, I guess I have enough to keep me busy. ;)

Speaking of when the weather cools...October, where have you been all my life?
Fall is my favorite time of year. Fall is boyfriend weather. College football weather. Candy corn weather. Savory dishes made with pumpkin & squash weather. Chili weather. Long sleeve shirt and shorts weather. Ahhhhh. I fell in love (for the first and only time) in fall and it holds a special place in my sentimental heart. (It was also the same fall that Auburn had a perfect season and the Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in ages--were the stars aligned that fall or what?!) I love making Kristy's not-too-bad-for-you recipe for Pumpkin Cake (and then covering it with bad-for-you cream cheese icing!)...I love taking walks with Nick in the cooling weather when he gets home from work...I love (as you all know) the holiday flavors at Starbucks...I love making yummy comforting soups every Wednesday. Oh, fall, how I adore thee. Until spring comes...then it's my new favorite.

No Place Like Home

2009-09-30T11:43:00.006-05:00

This morning was our dreaded home visit of the home study process. This is the third out of three "official" meetings we have for our home study. The first two meetings were in the quiet, calm office environment of our social worker's office. But today...she was required to come to our home to make sure not only were we fit to be parents but our HOUSE was fit to be a child's home.

I have dreaded this meeting since we decided to pursue adoption. If you're a long-time reader, you may recall that I have tendencies to be a "Martha." (This would be the Biblical Martha, not the middle sibling of the Guinn family--holla Marth!) Due to my Martha-Syndrome, I have the feeling like my house is always in disarray. (That's also because it probably is...!) I wish I were better at being hospitable (I'm trying to train myself), but I mostly worry that people think my house is ___. (Fill in a disappointing judgment, such as: too small, too dirty, too dusty, too crazy, too quirky, too poor...well, you get the picture.)

So in preparing for this home visit, I had to get real with myself. What needs to happen, I asked myself, in order to make me feel "okay" about this home visit? Here were the answers, and my suggestions for automatically making you feel better about your own home:

1. We made sure all safety standards were up-to-code. Fire extinguishers? Check. Able to open all windows? Check. Smoke & Carbon Monoxide Detectors? Check. And for extra measure: items available for child-proofing when the time came? Check.

2. I took my prized Dyson and vacuumed every corner and baseboard in our house. Followed up with a thorough vacuuming and mopping of the floors.

3. I made pumpkin bread with cream cheese icing so that my house smelled cozy and autumnal. (Is that a word?)

4. We gave the dogs plenty of exercise this morning so they were so tired that all they could do was lay quietly in the corner.

5. Grand Finale: New rug & curtains that I've been wanting to replace fooorrrreeeevvveeerrr.

Check it! (Sorry for the blurry pics)

After my five steps of worry-freedom, I plopped down on the couch last night a happy girl. I was happy about my house and the way it looked. It was clean, safe, and cute.

And the home visit was perfect this morning! Our social worker walked through our house, asking about the pictures hanging on the walls, remarking how well-behaved our dogs were, and praising us for being one of the most prepared couples she's ever worked with. So encouraging! Not once did she say "How unsightly for a washer and dryer to be in the kitchen" or "My, what a small stove you have" or "Do you seriously think having air-conditioning units is acceptable for a house with a child?" My greatest fears were vanquished. And in their place stands a contentedness with my current surroundings. Who would've thought a little extra vacuuming could have that much power? ;)

The General Specific

2009-09-24T15:15:00.001-05:00

Look at this picture of two kids in love.
(Wow, Nick needs a haircut, and I need to eat some Twinkies or something.
Ugh, I am such a sloucher...)

It was taken just before AGAPE's HeartLight event in 2005.
We'd been dating for a little under a year.
That night, Nick and I sat in his car and talked about
"when/if" we got married, we would like to pursue adoption.

In 2008, shortly after our 2-year anniversary, we started looking into international adoption. We requested information from various international agencies. We looked over all of the available programs in different countries. I was working for a local adoption support agency, specifically with a program that taught health professionals about domestic infant adoption. While domestic adoption is something that we might pursue in the future, it was unpredictable as to when/if we would be referred an infant. (And we really felt the need to start our family with an infant--we both desired that.) Also, international adoption (while having a more predictable timeline) involved a huge investment of time and money, and we felt very motivated to go through that for our first child. International adoption was a way for us to be at work in the world, to lend our very tiny amount of help to causes that we cared about and hurt for but seemed powerless against. War, famine, and disease seem huge and far away from our wealthy American culture. We wanted to do something more. And we wanted to show the love and care that God had shown us when he adopted us as His sons & daughters.

Does that sound idealistic to you? Because it is. And the reality can be less than ideal. But that is a different post for a different time.

So after some deliberation, Nick and I chose to pursue adoption from Ethiopia. For several reasons:

It was the program with specifications and standards that fit most closely with where we "were" in life. (Age limits, length of marriage requirement, wait time, fees)

It was a solid program within the international agency we liked.

We are interested in the country--the history, the struggles, the culture, and (YUMMM) the food! We want to be able to pass this interest on to our child, to cultivate pride in his/her heritage.

Here's the (VERY) simplified time-line of how things work:

Choose country (CHECK!)
Choose agency (CHECK!)
Save money (CHECK!)
Send application to international agency (CHECK!)
Complete Home Study with local agency (IN PROCESS)

The US Citizenship & Immigration Service (USCIS) will then need to
(1) determine Nick & I are capable of parenting and
(2) decide our child is eligible to be adopted so that
(c) they can expedite a visa issue for our child.
We'll have to do the following for that:

Complete a dossier (pronounced "doss-ee-AY," and basically means "a big fat stack of papers procured from many different sources that contain every speck of information about us which are sent to a bunch of different places to get a bunch of different seals") and send with some official government forms to be "approved"

After that:

We get put on a waiting list with our international agency
We will get a referral for a child and we will (most likely) accept the referral
We will file another "official government form" to approve that our child can be adopted
That is settled in a court date in Ethiopia, after which we are given a travel date
We travel to Ethiopia, do some official business over there, and get to return with Baby Faris!

Whoa, you're probably thinking. We'll have our first child just in time to retire, right? It sounds like a lot (and it is!) but it actually moves (relatively) quickly. We hope to have our dossier completed (or near completed) by the end of 2009. Then, we'll wait for an unknown amount of time (maybe short, maybe long?) and once we receive a referral, we'll most likely get to travel within a couple months. Next summer? Maybe? It seems like a while, but another way of looking at it: If I was pregnant right now, our child would be due at the end of June, right? Not too far off!

For now, we are scrambling all around town, getting letters about our non-criminal history from the Sheriff's office and getting fingerprinted...meeting with our social worker and requesting every legal document containing our name. Getting physicals and bribing enough people who know us to write letters about how we're upstanding citizens worthy of being parents. (Just kidding about the bribing, if anyone official is reading this!) This "first trimester" sure is exhausting! ;)

Life is happening (in addition) as usual...Nick is still looking for a youth ministry job while he finishes his very last class in grad school. We got a dishwasher installed after seven years of washing dishes by hand! We're both working our buns off at our respective jobs. Our dog babies are ready for this rain to stop...and I am too, because it's ruining the beginning of my half marathon training! We just got some artwork that we love for above our couch. The countdown is on for the Starbucks Gingerbread Latte. But you don't want to hear about any of that, do you? I didn't think so. ;)