Spam is Funny

Dearest Child of Mine,

Are you here yet? I'm on day 56 of anxiously anticipating your arrival, and each day the anxiety is cranked up a notch. I thought I was bad last week, but it's nothing compared to what I've been feeling this week.

Each day, the first thoughts that I have in the morning are usually like this:"Will this be the day?" "Will this be the day that we find out if we've got a son or daughter?" "Will this be the day that I get to join club Mommy and Jay gets to join club Daddy?"

After keeping my phone rightbymyside while getting ready for work, I walk into school where my co-worker usually makes some sort of comment about you still not being here yet. During class, with my phone still rightbymyside (ok, on my desk), one or more of my students will either a) ask if there's any more baby news or b) ask if they can babysit. Today, when I answered one student's question by telling him that your due date is tomorrow, he responded by squealing and jumping up and down.

Yes, my darling, the excitement has officially reached a fever pitch...and you aren't even here yet.

To amuse myself and keep myself occupied, I've been to get as much done as I possibly can while I still can. We started off with the things that absolutely had to be done before your arrival: getting a carseat, washing some of your clothes and preparing your room for your great home coming (triple check). Once we did that, and you still weren't here, I moved on to the things that I had hoped to get done before you got here: that would be having the carseat checked by the CHP, getting the dogs groomed, and making sure that the dogs will be taken care of while we're gone (check, check and check). Then, we moved on to the things that could be done before you get here but really it doesn't matter a whole lot: preparing for the theatre awards, making cookie dough for next week's family reunion, and steam cleaning the spare room (again, triple check).

Each time I get another thing crossed off of my to-do list, I kinda wonder if that was the thing you were waiting for. I mean, maybe you didn't want to come into this world until I had covered all twenty four Spam cans with blue painter's because you knew that once you were here I wouldn't really have a whole lot of time to get ready for this year's theatre awards? The thought occurred to me today as I was meticulously taping each can that it would be REALLY funny to tell you one day that we got THE call while your mommy was neck high in spam cans and painter's tape. Then again, by the time you're old enough to read this, it won't seem so odd that your mother is neck high in spam and painter's tape because, well, frankly, by the time you read this you will have seen me make the Hammy awards ten times over and the novelty is probably lost on you.

Back to the point: when I didn't get THE call while making the Hammy awards, I thought to myself as I carried them out to the car "Maybe I'll get THE call while I'm carrying a box of tape-covered spam cans...that would be funny, too." Yep. Didn't happen. No phone call.

So now...I continue to wait. I did get a onesie ordered that has the word "Spam" emblazened on it for you to wear to the Hammy Awards. I think it'll be cute!

Love you lots,

mommy

Uncertainty is the Name of the Game

Dearest Little One,

We're now four days before your birth mother's due date and the anxiety has now found a permanent home in the bottom of my stomach. Our lives have become a series of uncertainties as we wait for the inevitable change that you will bring into our lives. In the meantime, I find myself counting down each final event as it happens. Last Friday, for example, your father and I went on what will probably be our last double date with Aunt Beth & Uncle Tom for a while. Going grocery shopping brought about yet another revelation: you will probably make me a mommy before the milk I just bought expires. Wow.

For now, I jump out of my skin every time the phone rings. Every day I go to school, I wonder if it's the last day I'll teach before I go on family leave for the rest of the school year. Every meal your father and I eat, I wonder if it's the last quiet meal we'll have together.

Going to bed isn't without its uncertainties, either. I've been sleeping with this bonding doll that your Auntie Melissa bought for you. I'm hoping that it will become your favorite toy. It's blue and oh so soft! It's called the twinkle baby:

At any rate, the "what ifs" strike the most at night. I wonder, "What if tonight is the night I get the phone call?" "What if I don't hear the phone or Jay sleeps through it?" The hardest "what if" is the most painful one. "What if the birth mom changes her mind?"

I know, in my heart, that if the birthmom DOES change her mind then the baby she's carrying isn't you. I want so badly for this child to be you, my precious son or daughter, but adoption is never a set in stone thing. For now, however, this birthmom has remained firm in her decision to selflessly place you into our homes forever, and that's the decision I'm comforting myself with each night. I can't imagine a more gracious and loving act then the one she's planning on doing in the near future: giving your father and I the opportunity to be parents to you. I look forward to sharing our lives with her as you grow up, and plan on making good on my promise to keep the adoption as open as she's comfortable with.

To get back to the present, we did receive a phone call today from our social worker today. Your birthmom had an ultrasound yesterday, and apparently you're quite big and down low. This is a good sign, little one, because that means you're preparing to make your way into the world!

As we wait for you to make your big debut, I'm continuing to drive your father absolutely bonkers with my neurotic desire to get all of my ducks in a row. I think it's my own way of dealing with the uncertainty of the future. I can't control what will happen in the hospital, I can't control how our family will expand, but I can control how I prepare for everything. I'm obsessed with getting things just so so that we don't hit any major snags along the way:

• The overnight bags have been packed for a month: one for you (complete with both gender-appropriate "going home" outfits) and one for us
• The backpack is filled with every electronic device known to man: video camera, digital camera (when your dad's not stealing it), laptop, DVD player...you get the idea. I've also had the foresight to pack their respective chargers.
• The people taking care of our dogs (Travis & Lisa) have been given house keys and put on high alert. I've also given Auntie Beth the full lecture about the dogs should Travis & Lisa not understand the detailed instructions I've left on the laundry room door.
• Your nonni graciously agreed to bring snacks to keep us well fed during our hospital/hotel stay. She's in Sacramento for the next few days, but she brought the snack bag & ice chest with her, just in case she needs to meet us in the hospital on short notice. Hmmm...like mother, like daughter?
• The lists of guests to be invited to your baby showers have been written out and addresses collected.
• A few pacifiers and a bottle have been sterilized and are ready to be used.
• Car seat is installed, ready to be checked by the CHP (tomorrow at 2:45, thankyouverymuch).
• I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I've got a typed list hanging on the nursery door of things we're supposed to remember before we go to the hospital. I even used the scrapbook machine to spell out "Remember" in big letters on top of the list. Someday, I'll probably add it to your baby book and we'll all get a big laugh at how insane I was during this time!

I know, I know...I'm a little type-A. And by a little, I mean a lottle. I'm finding myself doing the same things I did in school to earn the good grades that I did: I'm studying up (three baby books along with several adoption books) and am in severe danger of becoming a veritable walking, talking book. In short, little one, I'm doing what I do best: studying my way to becoming a mother.

And nothing, little one, nothing I read or do is going to completely prepare me for how you're about to rock our world. Be gentle, kiddo--your mom and dad are completely new at this!

Much love,

your mommy

My Biggest Fear: Fermenting Laundry

Dearest Child,

So, as we're waiting to get THE phone call that your birth mom is in labor, I've been checking and triple checking to make sure we're ready to go. The bags are packed, lists have been made, and the arrangements have been made to ensure that our dogs don't starve while we're gone.

It's in this frantic "Are-you-ready-because-I-think-I'm-ready-but-I-guess-we-won't-really-know-until-he-or-she-is-here-if-we've-prepared-everything-oh-boy-it-really-could-happen-ANY-TIME-and-gosh-darnit-that-reminds-me-that-I-need-to-go-to-the-Highway-Patrol's-Office-to-see-if-we-installed-the-carseat-right" mode that a new fear struck my heart: the laundry.

I'm so scared that we'll forget one of the "must-haves" in our frantic mad dash out of the house that will follow THE phone call (I don't know why, but whenever I make that statement I must put extra emphasis on "THE" because surely it will be unlike any other ordinary phone call). For example, it might seem logical that our camera is one of those things that MUST go into the overnight bag when we go to the hospital. Your father took it today to take a picture of this boat and he got the two minute lecture of how important it is that the camera make its way back to its original spot on the counter lest we forget it and be the worst parents EVER because we didn't take pictures of our precious little one in the hospital because HEAVEN FORBID it should NOT be where it's supposed to be when we make the aforementioned mad dash out the door to the hospital.

But back to the laundry. The thought of rushing out of the house and accidentally leaving clothes in the washer to ferment and smell and get all gross strikes fear in my heart. Allow me to explain: usually, laundry is an all weekend event: one load goes in the washer while another goes in the dryer. This cycle is repeated six or seven times until all of our clothes are dry, folded and smelling Downy fresh. Like most people, laundry is something that is done on the side when I've got other, more important things going on (like updating this blog).

While I was repacking your baby bag the other day, the thought occurred to me that, in that prophetic mad dash out the door, we might not remember that there's a wet load of laundry waiting to go into the dryer. Granted, I don't think anyone would blame us if we did forget: who in their right mind honestly thinks of laundry after getting word that they need to get to the hospital NOW because their son/daughter is on his/her way? Right. Not what one would typically think about during that exciting time.

Which is why it is entirely feasible that laundry could be left for days on end to get all gross while we're in the hospital. It's also why I have taken it upon myself to worry about it now because chances are I won't be worrying about it when THE time comes. At any rate, I've managed to appease my fears by washing clothes little by little. Once a load is washed AND dried, I put the next load in. It takes twice as long, but it puts my laundry fears to rest.

I know--I'm cookoo. But you still love me and hopefully (if my plan works), you won't be brought home for the first time only greeted by the rancid smell of sour towels.

Lots of love,
Your mommy

Poor Dogs

Dearest Child,

As we count down the weeks (and now days) to the time where we'll get THE phone call that a baby is on its way, I've found myself doing all of the things that a pregnant woman would do. I'm washing (and re-washing) all of the sheets and clothes that we've got. I'm also organizing like a mad woman. Last weekend's attempt to locate a measuring tape turned into a half hour junk drawer purging fest. Our junk drawer has never been so clean. Whodathunk that buried in five years worth of "junk" would be twenty something twix-it clips and batteries galore? Sidenote: I also turned the hundred or so rubber bands loitering in the drawer into a very cool rubber band ball.

At any rate, while I've been "nesting," I can't help but to think of the two little dogs whose worlds will be forever rocked in a few weeks. They don't realize it, but as we're counting down the days to bring you home, we're also savoring every last minute of having dogs that truly are the center of our familial universe. I look into their brown eyes, clueless to the situation as they may be, and I just feel so dang awful. Visions keep coming to my head of two mangy dogs staring at me from outside while I hold a sleeping baby in my arms. And I Can't. Shake. The. GUILT.

Not that they've got much to complain about. They've had pretty awesome lives up until this point. They're fed countless "cookies" throughout the day (so some people may call them bribes, but hey, I never claimed to be the dog whisperer). They only go outside to go to the bathroom, and then it's right back inside the house. Family portraits aren't complete unless they've got the dogs in them. As a matter of fact, if it weren't for these two, our camera would be absolutely void of any pictures whatsoever.

I think their biggest treat so far would be on Friday and Saturday nights, when we fall prey to their pleas and let them sleep at the foot of the bed. Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, ROXY sleeps at the foot of the bed, while Maynerd happily snoozes between your father and I. He's taken that spot since we were first married. He used to growl whenever your daddy got too close to me in bed, but we've since then managed to break that habit. Now he growls at ME whenever I get too close to your father in bed.

You get the point...these dogs are spoiled. And that gravy train's about to come to a stop pretty quickly. What's a furbaby mom to do? Well, whenever I've got a laptop free lap, I pick them up and give them each a good ear scratchin'. I also find myself being exceptionally cognizant of all of their 'quirks' lest I forget them the moment I become a "real" mom.

Take Maynerd, for example. Homeboy loves to get into the bathroom trash and steal the dang crumpled up dixie cups that your father and I use each night to take our medicine. He'll rummage through the bin none too subtly and, once he's found his "prize," he'll beeline for underneath our bed to happily chew on what truly must be the greatest thing he's ever found on this green earth. Granted, as soon as he's found out, I pull the cup out from underneath him and throw it away in the one trashcan he can't get into: the kitchen trash.

Maynerd's other quirk is his attitude about sleep. To say that Maynerd kind of likes sleep is like saying that your dad "kind of" likes cars. About an hour or so before we go to bed, he'll quietly slip into our bedroom, hop onto our bed, and fall into a deep sleep. I think his reasoning is that if we find him there, we won't want to disturb him and we'll let him spend the night in our bed. Admittedly, sometimes he outsmarts us because we play right into his paw and let him stay there. Most of the times, however, I scoop him up and carry him fireman style to the laundry room, where his cookie/bribe awaits him.

Roxy, on the other hand, can't get to the laundry room fast enough each night and each morning because she can't WAIT to get her cookie. While most dogs might whimper at the sight of their owner putting on his/her shoes because that means separation surely will follow, Roxy gets positively giddy because that means that she's going to get her morning cookie. Yeah. She's a sell out, but she knows it.

Roxy's love of all things food related isn't her only quirk. She's quite positively the most vocal dog I've ever met. I don't mean to simply imply that she barks excessively (although she does do it each time she thinks it's breakfast or supper time). Homegirl murmers. And moans. And groans. And snorts. And coos. Anytime I scratch her in just the right spot, she turns into a bumbling mess as she gasps and grunts and sighs with pleasure.

Sigh. I love these two dogs so much, yet I feel that they've only given me a mere glimpse as to what parenthood really entails. In my urge to nest, the role that the dogs currently play in our little family has definitely not been lost on me. I'm doing everything I can to ensure a smooth transition. I've even gone so far as to sleep for the past few weeks with the blanket we'll take you home in. Dog experts say that if the dogs to smell something that has the parents' scent mixed with the baby's scent before the dog/baby introduction takes place, then the dogs are more likely to sense that this baby is here to stay.

We'll see about that. At any rate, if you ever see baby pictures of yourself playing in the living room, and notice in the background that there are two miffed dogs on the outside looking in, you'll know why.

In the meantime, baby, I'm counting down the sleeps until we meet!

Lots of love,
your mommy

PS. It's 9PM, about an hour before our bedtime. As if on cue, Maynerd's left the living room to happily fall asleep on our bed. Roxy's not ready for bed yet; she's merely looking at me as she waits for her evening cookie.

Thursday Nighters...and Are You Here Yet?

Dearest Child,

This past weekend, I went to my college stomping grounds in Seattle to visit a very dear friend of mine: EllenAnn. Long story short: I went up there to watch the series finale of the show I had watched faithfully every Thursday night with a core group of friends (we dubbed ourselves the Thursday Nighters). Although none of us have watched 'ER' since college, it was important for us to get together once again to wrap everything up. We had a blast, and I found myself reverting back to my old college-age self. What fun it was to answer to my college nickname (Spullen) and to laugh and swap stories in the wee hours of the morning.

I had so much fun visiting with EllenAnn, in fact, that we've made plans for the summer. If it all works out, she's going to come down here to visit for a few days. I'm thinking of taking her to Yosemite & Shaver Lake, but we'll see what the weather has in store before making any firm plans. Your daddy and I are also planning on taking a trip up the West Coast to go to Oregon to see Grandma & Grandpa Pullen and Seattle (yep, EllenAnn again).

The piece de resistance, however, comes toward the end of July. We're going to go to Disneyland with her two daughters. When we were making these plans, I made an off the cuff comment, something to the effect of "Oh, I'll probably have the baby with me so I can show him or her what Disneyland's all about!"

EllenAnn stopped dead in her tracks, little one, as only EllenAnn can. She looked me dead in the eyes and quietly said "Spullen...of course you're going to have the baby with you--you're going to have your child with you for the rest of your life!"

Gulp. Apparently, in my rush to wait for you to get here, I "forgot" one very pivotal piece of information: parenthood is forever. I think daily (ok, hourly and minutely if there is such a possibility) about what those first few weeks will be like when we bring you home. In fact, I've been so focused on "MAY BABY" lately, that I've neglected to remind myself that there also will be a baby in June, and in July, and in August...well, you get the idea. Of course there will be a baby with me when I go to Disneyland in July. Oopsie. Forgive me?

That said...are you here yet?

Love you,

yo mamma

PS. While in Seattle, I showed a friend of mine the Seattle Pacific campus. Of course, I couldn't resist buying a t-shirt for you. It'll be a while before you can wear it (I got a 2T), but I can't wait to see you toddling around the house in it. Because, you know, you'll still be here two years from now and all.

Uncle Tom & Aunt Beth Finally Tied the knot!

Dearest Little One,

After six loooong years of dating, your Aunt Beth & Uncle Tom were married last night in a very lovely mountain wedding. I was a bridesmaid and your daddy was an usher. We had an absolute blast and are so happy that they've finally tied the knot. Now that the wedding's over, all of us are anxiously awaiting your arrival!

(Insert Subject Title Here)

Dearest Child,

I'm not sure what I should be writing at this point. Yes, we've been matched with a birth mother at this point. Yes, we could become parents soon. But we don't know for certain that *you* are the baby on the way. In other words, while we're over the moon excited, we're also fully aware that she (I'll call her K) could choose against an adoption plan at any given moment. So while we're stoked and excited (and admitedly it's all I can think or talk about at this point), we're trying to also remain grounded until we actually have YOU to take home.

Truth be told, while I'm wrought with fear that it will fall through, I also have a tremendous sense of peace that God's plan for our family will revealed soon. I really do hope that the baby that K is carrying now is you. I want so badly to bring you home and call you my little son or daughter.

That said, the path to adoption is rarely smooth, and this situation is no exception. You see, when we were called a week and a half ago, we were told that K's due date was April 10th. Recent phone calls from our adoption agency have revealed that K was experiencing contractions and was hoping that labor would happen soon.

So imagine our surprise, little one, when we got another update from our agency this evening (just as I prepared to teach my evening college class). Surprise! The due date has been pushed back to May 16th. While I initially was bummed that things have been pushed off a little, I'm trying to remain optimistic. I really do think that this is God's doing. It gives us more time to prepare our house for a baby, and hopefully by then we'll have received the money we need to complete the adoption process.

Business aside, there are a few things that we know about K. Our social worker has encouraged us to write down all of the information we know about her (so we don't forget in future years), so here goes:

• She's 23 years old, and she's part Hispanic & part Puerto Rican.
• She's a part time choreographer, model & tattoo artist (but according to her social worker, she's not covered in tattoos).
• She's got a 5 year old son from her first marriage.
• According to her social worker, she's "drop dead" gorgeous.
• She's got 3 brothers & 3 sisters.

The obvious question is the most difficult question: "Why is she placing her baby up for adoption?" While I'm hoping that this is a question that you can ask her directly someday, what we know at this point is that she is going through a divorce and that it's really important to her that this baby be raised by two parents who love God. When she saw her profile, she looked at the first page and just *knew* that we were the ones she wanted to match with, because she liked that we were short (she "didn't want the baby raised by giants") and that I was a drama teacher (she related to the creative aspect of my job).

So there you have it, little one. These next few weeks are sure to be difficult as the wait drags on, but I'm praying that God will continue to guide us through this whole process. Most of all, I pray for K in her last month of pregnancy. I pray that God will give her peace and will ease her mind of what are surely some very difficult decisions.

Until we meet you,

your mommy

PS. All we know at this point about the the birth father is that he's part African American and part Hispanic. He's also from Florida & has green eyes.