We are waiting for the US consulate in China to reopen (they moved buildings) so that we can drop off our Article 5. I won't get into the details of what exactly that is. It's not because I don't know. Because of course I do. It's a piece of paper. With words on it. And it's official looking. I know all about it. I just don't want to bore you with the details.
Once it gets dropped off, it can get picked back up (yup, I said it). That takes a couple weeks. Then we wait for Travel Approval (TA). That takes a couple weeks. Then we pick our appointment at the consulate, maybe 2-4 weeks after TA. We're hoping for a September travel. Yikes and hooray at the same time.
The last update told us that Talitha is doing fine (it's the party line apparently) and that she's about 23 lbs.
She was about 12 in March.
I may not be the sharpest crayon in the box...but no.
Our two year old is about 23 lbs. He's 6 months older than Talitha and hasn't been in an orphanage, fighting a heart condition that turned him blue with exertion. She was a preemie and 4-5 lb at 4 months. He was 9 Lb 12 oz at birth and was dubbed "The Linebacker" from several nurses. He has the blood of West Virginia coal miners coursing through his big ol veins. Oh, and Germans. Don't forget the lager-and-sausage-loving German blood. He's solid and his thighs make bike riders jealous. You have to squish them when you see them. You can't fight that feeling.
You can't see her thighs in this pictures but I'm guessing they're not really squishable. Look at the difference in their arms, for goodness sake's. I peg her at 15-18 lbs. 9 month old clothes.
I've heard from other adoptive parents that updates stats are hardly ever accurate and they either just do it flat wrong or pad the numbers to make them appear healthier.
Stop trying to pull the wonton wrapper over my eyes, China. Get it together.
On a related note, Matt preached this past Sunday. He chose adoption and oh my goodness, why did I wear mascara? The very first sentence he spoke, he choked up too. This has become so personal and passionate for us.
The Alternator of Doom
As the kids and I were leaving my niece's birthday party, the gas pedal inexplicably stopped working. On a four lane busy road in the city on a Saturday afternoon. It's me and the three kids. And it's raining. I coasted into a parking lot and called my dad, who was close by, and Matt, who was not.
Everyone agreed it sounded like the alternator. I agreed too because alternator sounds like it could definitely be a car part.
We've had AAA forever. Matt had it before we got married. Guess what Matt did two weeks ago? That's right - he canceled it. Thinking we hardly ever use it and could save that money for the adoption. Matt called AAA and explained the situation to them. They reinstated us immediately.
Mad props and hat tips and rounds of applause to AAA.
We got it towed back to Macclenny and the kids enjoyed a rare meal out waiting for the tow truck.
Having to pay almost $500 to get this fixed is something you don't really think about unless you need the money for something big. Otherwise it's just a blip, an annoying part of life.
But now it's like "Oh c'mon, really? Now? Really?"
On a related note, Florida is getting hit with Seattle-ish amounts of rain. Our septic field is not happy. When we picked up the van, Kate and I took it upon ourselves to use a working bathroom. Sure, it was a dirty shop bathroom but the guy there was kind enough to let us use it. It was slightly embarrassing, as Kate loudly described what she was doing. And how she could tell she had carrots by the coloring of certain things in the toilet. It was a very loud and detailed play by play. And there's really only so much interest you can fake in someone else's bodily function while also quietly admonishing them to hurry it up and stop admiring how shiny the soap is.
Grey's Anatomy for Children
As we've exhausted much of the heart surgery videos on youtube, I've been scouring clips of interesting surgeries from Grey's Anatomy to watch with Jack. I don't let him watch the whole episodes and if you've seen any, you know why. Plus, he wouldn't care about the personal drama anyway. We were watching this one clip when someone has an explosive from a bazooka in his abdomen (the show is nothing if not realistic). The patient was in the OR and an anesthesiologist was working the ambu bag (essentially breathing for the patient). I explained what was happening. Later on in the episode, everyone thinks the explosive will detonate and they hit the floor. Eventually they slowly get up, and the drama is palpable. Jack is intent, eyes glued to the screen. I wonder if I've gone too far, exposed him to something that's really upset him.
"Jack?" I ask quietly, "You ok buddy?"
"No. No one is giving that patient oxygen. It's been like two minutes. There's no point in doing the surgery now. The patient is dead. They should leave the bomb in the patient so it doesn't explode on everyone else."
Son of a gun, he's right. No one started working the ambu bag after they hit the floor.
A surgeon he is indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment