little giggle

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funny pictures of cats with captions
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returning home

The visit was just awesome. 

Holy smoke-and-fire, these birthparents are incredible.

We went to her OB appointment and chatted in a comfortable room while we waited.  (I think I mentioned before that this doctor is a big adoption advocate, so when he saw us there he ushered us all into a nice room so we could talk.)  F. is, as before, incredibly warm and happy and effusive in her appreciation of us, and now she is really glowing with that pregnancy beauty.  J., the birthfather, is friendly and chatty and seems to like us a lot, too.

Rainbow and F. are both doing great.  I had a brief panic when the doctor fired up the ultrasound because he went straight to the head, and I didn’t see a heartbeat…  I started to feel panicked – no no NOOOOOO!!! –  but then – there it was, beating strong at 125 beats a minute.  He was sleeping.  We got to see him on 3-D ultrasound, and he is beautiful.

It’s just… all so perfect.

Although, of course it’s not really perfect.  We’re flesh and blood people after all.

I was so nervous, and had slept so poorly the night before, that I had a hot-mama of a tension head-and-neckache on the day of our meeting.  It was like I was wearing a neck brace; I had to turn my entire torso to look at people during dinner and just try my best to ignore the pain.

There are a couple of minor bumps that the social worker assures us are no big deal, so I’m just trying not to think about them.  la la la la la…..

Also, I need to get in touch with my friend who adopted from Florida and ask how her hospital experience was.  It sounds like I won’t be able to breastfeed or room in with the baby until the 48 hour window of birthparent grace period has passed.  Which SUCKS.  But, not a deal breaker or catastrophe – we’ll all get over it.  There will hopefully be a nice nurse or two there who will hold Rainbow a lot, right?  I just hate to think of them sequestered in those plastic boxes.  When the boys were born, they only went to the nursery for weighings and checkups, and then spent all the rest of their time with me in the hospital room.  That’s how we roll. 

Well, that’s how we like to roll.

On the bright side, it looks very unlikely that circumcision will be anything to worry about.  Daddy J and I are anti, and it appears that Medicaid is, too  – you have to pay up front if you want your baby circumcized.  So, hopefully there will be no confusion and Rainbow can come home intact.


I told F. that I felt like we had won the lottery with this adoption situation, and she responded with, Well, we feel like WE have won the lottery, because we know the baby will be so happy and loved and well-cared for.

So, yes, it’s looking good…


When Daddy J and I got back to the home airport, we walked to our spot in long-term parking rather than take the shuttle so that we could stretch our legs.  It was a gorgeous, bright day.

We walked under the two-story parking garage and were out under the sun, crossing a road through the airport, and I saw some paper fluttering down into the middle of the street.  It was rectangular, folded in half, and fluttering straight down.  I pointed it out to Daddy J: Look at that paper falling – isn’t that pretty?

Wait, is that money…?

Daddy J walked to the middle of the road (some drivers saw the money fall and slowed, but pedestrians trump drivers in this sort of thing) and picked it up – a nice, crisp one dollar bill.

A very positive, sign, no?  Money from heaven?

well, hello there…

Remember when it was so reassuring when I found the little pearl in my oyster last time we came down?

We had another little token, a little charm.  When Daddy J and I pulled into the hotel parking lot and got out of the car, he leaned down and picked up a little dachshund charm.

Which is cool because the birthmom had put a deposit down on her mini dachshund when we were last here.  I think she intends it to be her little cuddle critter after the birth, which I think is extremely wise.  I would totally want something like that.  And of course reminds me of our sweet little weiner dog, Oscar, who we got right after we got married.  Oscar was my little cuddle critter when Daddy J did all that international travel in his previous job, and I looooved her.

Anyway, it was delightful.  We both thought, Why, hello F.!  Nice to see you here! and felt all welcome and reassured.  I’m going to give it to her, along with her gift basket of goodies.  It’s all beat-up and scratched from being run over, but I think she will appreciated the coolness of our finding it.


On another note, I packed like an imbecile for this trip.  Like, crazy-lady packing.  Daddy J told me it was warm in Tampa, but, uh, I thought he meant “mild.” But, yeah, it’s warm. Also, I thought we were going to the doctor and then straight to dinner, so I only brought as a very-presentable outfit my tall boots-suede skirt-tights-velvet top or light wool sweater to wear, and am having to wear the Wal-mart jeans and faded long sleeved travel t-shirt I brought.  Which, I know, keep it real, Mama Jamz, but I wanted to look really special and pretty every time I see them.

meeting the birthparents part deux

Tomorrow we go and and have our second meeting with the potential birthparents.


Obviously, I’m totally preoccupied with whether the birthmom will change her mind and decide to parent, and thinking that the things I say and the way I look to her are really, really important as far as reassuring her goes.

And have probably been spending way too much time reading birthmother posts on forums like this where a lot of negative and angry and betrayed birthmothers post.

I don’t want  it to be that way.  I don’t want our birthmother to hurt or to be bitter or angry or depressed.  I am hoping that these really angry and sad birthmoms maybe didn’t fully understand their options, and that our situation will be different because our birthmom has had a lot of contact with the agency and seems like she really grasps what’s going on.  I want it to be better for her.


My aunt popped over today and told her that her youngest son’s due date was March 17 (or so) and she went into labor exactly one month early.  He was born after a very fast labor and weighed 8 lbs 15 oz. (same as Rockinrolla, now thatchamentionitt.)


What if Rainbow came on Feb. 1 instead of March 1? 


Honesty is…

The following is the result of a Mama Jamz assignment given to the Fishmaster.  I made no corrections (except his misspellings of  ‘radiance’ and ‘treads.’)

You can see hints of the reading he’s been doing at school (they just finished The Count of Monte Cristo  and have been studying the Bible some.)  I love the coyote/lamb sybolism and all the “lo’s” and “thrusts” and such.

Guess how proud I am of my just-turned-13 year old…


by the Fishmaster

What does it mean to be honest?  Is it the act of being true, or the absence of lies? When one is entrusted with a task, any task at all, honesty must be applied.  If not, you will be the sly coyote.  The coyote, who creeps through the wood at night, is in search of the innocent lamb. 

But, when the light of honesty shines its radiance on the coyote, it becomes beautiful; it does not feed on the flesh of the lamb, for it knows that killing the lamb will bring the coyote unhappiness.

And when the coyote sees that all is good, he is happy. 

The same applies to all things, for all things wish to be happy.

If a man does many wrongs, and lives in the sly, why does he do these things?  For he knows that these acts will bring him nothing but misfortune, unhappiness, and sufference; or does he?  He is tempted, by the illusion of happiness that awaits him at the end of the task in which honesty is thrust upon him.  But lo, he passes the path of honesty and treads the road of temptation, which he will wander hopelessly on this wicked road forever.  But, if he chooses the path of honesty, he will be rewarded with a shower of happiness. 

But still, is it possible for a kind man to be dishonest, and a wicked man to be honest?  The answer, in my view, is yes.  A kind man can be dishonest, and still be kind but not necessarily wicked.  The same applies to the wicked man.

But what of the man who believes he is doing a right but in fact is doing a wrong.  Perhaps it matters if the act is more severe than others, or the level of its severity.  But the man, who thought he was doing a right, has the virtue of innocence.   Thus saying, there may yet be a third path: The Path of Innocence, where the path is long but not treacherous.

In conclusion, you have a choice: Honesty or Dishonesty, Truthfulness or Untruthfulness.  As for the Path of Innocence, you will not know when you enter it. 

“Do not Live Life in the Sly” – Sawney Webb

sicky and whiny

Yeah.  I haven’t been sick in awhile, and it is NO FUN.

Daddy J took the boys to his mother’s today and left me at home alone (sigh) to recuperate.  Bummer.  Grandma L is an awesome cook.  I also missed a Christmas dinner at my mother’s yesterday.  (Stupid cold.)

Anyhoo, I’m about to take some Alka-Seltzer cold and zone out.  Possibly some TLC network in my future – isn’t that the one with the What To Wear and Baby Story shows?  The Woman Channel, as Daddy J calls it.  Also, probably some Deepak Chopra meditation at some point.  I loves me some Deepak.

I realized that I forgot a Christmas gift for a kid in the family and am wondering if I can recycle one of the boys’ newish looking books.  Too tacky?  But WHO’S TO KNOW except for you and me?  I just DO NOT feel like venturing out to the big city, and the shops downtown don’t have all that much for this child’s age group.  Can I justify it by being eco-friendly?


My brother, The Commander, is coming in this evening to spend the night and visit a bit.  Hopefully I’ll have a little more pep in my step by then.  He’s a Wii fanatic and promises fun with light saber dueling.

Birth verses

So, I came across a mention of a site that has matched your birthdate with a bible verse, and was all, huh.  Like, kudos to them for this great marketing idea in the Christian world – think of all the magnets, plaques, t-shirts and whatnot they could sell with birth verses on them!

I think how it works is this: there are 66 books in the Bible, so they have a pool to choose from.  They look at the various verses that match up your birth month as chapter and birth date as verse, then toss out the losers, like Abadiah begat Abladiah and Martha got all pissy when she had to scrub the floor and Angry horses of doom breathed fire and smote all that was living.  You know, the ones that wouldn’t be all that inspiring.  They pick the best of the reasonable-sounding ones, and declare that your birth verse.

So, huh.  I hesitated to even click on it, because I sort of view the Bible as, like, a Declaration of Independence or a Bill of Rights.  Like, a wonderful document that was created by committee.  I’m not saying the committee members were unintelligent or uninspired, but they were human, after all.  There had to be arguments about what got included and what got left out of the final package, right?

(Fine, Ringo, FINE.  We’ll put in “Yellow Submarine.”)

And I just can’t even have a conversation with people that get all Yew better change yer ways becuz scripture sez whut yer doing is WRAWWWNG and yew better stop fore you get smote and sent to fie-ree HAYELLLL!!

I find that those people are best avoided.


I found the link to the birth verse site while I was still in Internet goof-off breakfast/coffee mode, and figured, what the hey.  It’s got to be more illuminating than oceangram, right?

I looked up my birth verse first, which was something about serving the Lord with zeal and energy.  Which probably means that I should get off my ass and quit moaning and fretting and do some Good Works already.  Which, yeah.  I hear you, God.

Then I looked Ward’s up, which was a little more on point:

John 10:28 NIV
I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand.


I know I’ve said and thought that he was snatched out of my hands before, so this caught my breath.  And, you know, is pretty spot on.

So, if you feel like it, look up your birth verse and share.  Does it fit at all, or did you get the one about Jesus bending down to tie his shoes?

perfect Sunday morning

Daddy J is off with his cousin to see a football game in Houston, the Fishmaster is with Grandma MJ, and it’s Rockinrolla and I minding the fort.

He is such a delight.  Just a sweetie-pie in every way.   I don’t think I was anywhere near that enjoyable when I was eleven.  We had spaghetti and watched Pirates of the Caribbean last night, and this morning woke up and watched Beauty Shop.  (Kind of silly, but pleasant enough.  Did you know Kevin Bacon was in that movie TOO?)

Grandma MJ is bringing the Fishmaster back at around lunchtime, and then we’ll do I-don’t-know-what this afternoon.  Hm.  A long walk down to the creek, perhaps?  I haven’t been in awhile; maybe a longish walk in the cold with the boys would be nice.

Rockinrolla is upstairs learning how to play “Rock n’ Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution” on the guitar, and I’m making potatoes and soy chorizo for breakfast.  It’s awesome.  I’ll share.

Potatoes with Soy Chorizo

Peel potatoes (I do three medium ones for two people) and chop into pretty small pieces.  Slice a few baby carrots thinly.  Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and coat with spray oil.  Toss potatoes and carrots in olive oil and spread in pan. 

Bake at 350 til on the firm side of tender.

Heat more olive oil in large sautee pan.  Add one chopped onion and half a package of soy chorizo, and cook with potatoes and carrots. 

When potatoes are nice and tender, season with salt and pepper, top with cheese, and serve with ketchup.

recycled post: Christmas crafting

This is how lazy I am  – I’m recycling a post from the old blog to describe the craft of the day.

(Oh, is that what they’re calling it now, when you were out til midnight watching Daddy J’s band perform and are having trouble stringing thoughts together this morning: “lazy”?) 

Anyway.  This is my favorite Christmas craft, the Christmas card ball ornament.  The Fishmaster and I made four from last year’s cards a couple of days ago, so now I have them from 2006 AND 2007.  Cool, huh?  The Fishmaster had a much better crafter attitude than last year, and cut out almost all of the circles himself, like a good little laborer.

(Also: Daddy J’s band performance: AWESOME.)

From December 2, 2007:

I was pretty crafty as a child. I made clothes for my stuffed animals out of scrap fabric with my own patterns, sandals for them out of masking tape, dolls out of yarn, ribbon barrettes and friendship bracelets, cross-stitching. Maybe it’s a girly thing, or specifically a crafty girly thing.

The boys, on the other hand, are not particularly crafty. And yet – there are certain activities I feel like we ought to do, just because. Because making homemade stuff with them just seems an essential part of Christmas.

So, we are treading a fine line. I want them to enjoy it, or at least not make them furious with me, so I have do quick activities with them. Forget cross-stitching little ornaments. And, I have to refrain from complaining when they do impatient, sloppy work. (Although I do allow myself to encourage them a little bit to slow down already and try to make it look nice.)

Today, the peppermint bark was a good activity. You just buy the “white” flavored cubes of candy (try not to think about the artificial flavors and colors) and candy canes. The boys got to shuck off the plastic wrappers and then crunch up the candy canes in ziploc bags by pounding them with metal measuring cups. They liked that part. (Helpful tip: double bag the candy canes so you are less likely to have peppermint dust all over your kitchen.) Melt the candy in the microwave, pour into wax paper lined jelly roll pan, and let them pour the pulverized peppermints on top. I let them stir the candy around with toothpicks (yes, I could have just stirred it into the candy, but this gave them some more Involvement.) Jack and I decided to melt some regular chocolate chips and pour that over his batch. Pop the pan in the fridge and then break it up like brittle when it gets hard. Mmmm!

A slightly more tedious activity: recycled Christmas card ornament balls. I’m too lazy to take a picture and download it, so let’s see if I can describe the process. Trace circles from a small coffee can onto a pile of last year’s Christmas cards and cut them out. Fold a pattern circle into an equilateral triangle, and mark the three points on the card circles. Fold the edges, from point to point, so that each card circle became a folded triangle with the edges facing up. Staple these edges together so that the cards form an 8-sided ball. [Take a picture, lazy girl. That is way too hard to visualize.]

Fine, fine. Here’s a pic taken with my camera phone. Perhaps not the clearest, but you get the idea:

Christmas card balls

[If your children are willing, you get make these extra-special by gluing glitter around the edges, or, using a holepunch, winding ribbon or yarn around the outer edges. Otherwise, affix a ribbon hanger through the middle of each ball with an ornament of some sort to hold the knot in place at the bottom. Also, gluing the edges together instead of stapling would make for a nicer finish, but also more mess and potential for hot-glue burned fingers.]

Anyway! I love these. I remember a great grandmother that had them in her house before she moved into a nursing home. The boys enjoyed looking back at last year’s cards, especially the photo ones, and seeing how kids they know have gotten older. (That Mark Ethan used to have short hair!) The cutting and folding got old fast, but we persevered without me having to crack the whip. And now we have six lovely new bits of Christmas decor.

I’m feeling a little ambitious this year and am thinking I might make gingerbread cookies and a house with them FROM SCRATCH and let them decorate them. They decorated a pre-baked house last year and enjoyed it fairly well.

Do girls’ mamas get to do all kinds of involved crafty stuff all the time? Sigh.

counting the days

Not ’til Christmas, exactly, but ’til the boys get out of school for Christmas break.  I’m bored and tired and this big ol’ house is awfully quiet.


Pathetic, I know.

I think I can kind of blame the domperidone I’m taking so that I can breastfeed Rainbow.  Apparently it can make one sleepy.  Also, wet and cold weather makes me not want to go anywhere.  All I know is I just want to eat comfort food and napitate in front of the fire.   My big accomplishments for the day so far are waxing my legs, eating the same leftover pasta for breakfast and lunch, and doing a couple of hours of work.

I’m trying to kick in and get my assignment done, though, so that when the kids do get off from school, I won’t be crabbily working in my bathroom vanity/office while they have friends over.

Also: counting the days ’til Rainbow gets here.  There seems to be a very big window with lots of room for something to go wrong until we bring him home.  I’ll be so glad when I can write that HE’S HERE, HE’S HOME, HE’S OURS. 

That’ll be sometime in mid-March, most likely.

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