Monday, July 28, 2008

Lucky Number Seven

Hi honey!  So, here it is, our seventh anniversary, the year of the supposed itch, at least according to Billy Wilder.  Thankfully, we don't live in an overheated, urban apartment where a sexy bombshell can sublet the upstairs while I'm vacationing away from the city for the summer.  That's next year.

As this will be the year of biggest change for us, I wouldn't be surprised if you did feel some kind of urge, maybe if only to flee from the stress of it all.  We're going to get a baby, dude.  I admit to feeling some apprehension about what a kid will mean for our own relationship, which has, up until now, been the sole most important thing in my life.  Of course, the best hope is that this child will make our love all the stronger, and give us another outlet for our boundless affection for each other.  That is my goal, and I know it's yours, as well.  This life we've made together, this little middle-class menagerie, is what we want it to be, and I think that this child, this person we can raise amongst our varied creatures, will be pretty cool because of this interesting place we've made.  I also think that, because we're older and have made it a point to embrace the things we love doing, we'll be able to provide this little chicken with some pretty fantastic experiences, whether attending the Track and Field Olympic Trials, traveling to all the Disney parks, seeing our beloved birds' cousins in the jungles of Panama, having clotted cream in Cornwall, seeing your mom sing opera or learning how to draw from your incredible artist dad.  And don't forget learning how to knit.  That will be of utmost importance.

And what family and friends we have around us, to give us the most encompassing love they have in their hearts.  We have both sets of supportive and loving grandparents within driving distance, and one set has HORSES, which couldn't be niftier.   And holy cow, can you imagine all of us in Disneyland, sharing that first experience together?  I think I might just burst.  What a gift it is to us, too, to have our child's aunts and uncle want to give our family the best love in their hearts, and share with us the three most perfect cousins our kid could have.  How lucky our sprout will be to have the coolest kids in the world be in their own family.  There's so much to look forward to.

Writing this all out is good therapy, and equally good practice.  I never say enough of how being married to you has made my life exactly what I want it to be, and how grateful I am to you for building it with me.  As I sit here on the couch, sneezing from cleaning the office last night, looking around at the house we've been working on over the years, I see that it's bigger than we thought, and it can hold whatever we bring to it.  I can't wait to raise a child with you, and see some of the wonderfulness that is you in that child.  You are the best husband, and you will be a extraordinary father.  

I love you with all my heart.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Sudden Turns

I was shoved by teenage punks when emerging from the grocery store, and was consequently unutterably pissed until, when driving out of the parking lot, a young, aggressively groomed man in a lowered, pimped and bronzed Honda passed me and I caught his personalized license plate, which read "Fluffer". I don't think it means what he think it means.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Run, fat girl, run.

Was keep-away ever fun for anyone other than the hyper-athletic kids who had been playing soccer since conception and the regressive, vindictive gym teachers who enjoyed seeing the athletically-impaired be repeatedly denigrated every time they would attempt to get the ball from their snide, obscenely muscled peers?  

Christian and I were trounced in keep-away yesterday by two children under five, but this time it was because short ones are really, really quick and I'm old and fat.  Why can't we all just share the ball?  Oh yeah, because the need to kick the ass of those who are less skilled is deeply, deeply rooted in the human psyche.  Still, having your jiggly butt handed to you by a five year old doesn't suck so much when the little people are that cute.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Things learned from the most recent Spokane trip.

1.  Spokane is hot in the summer.  Armpit of Hades hot.  Vile hot.  I-can't-sleep-it's-90-degrees-in-my-room hot, I'm-so-sweaty-I-have-to-change-my-clothes-four-times-a-day-hot.  I-remember-why-I-moved-hot.

2.  Five-year-olds' wrestling matches trump tee ball in terms of hilarity.  Nothing will ever be more adorable and comical than 400 skinny little chickens and a few husky bruisers in singlets. 

3.  Taking three children five and under to see Wall-e, even with four adults in attendance, will ensure that you will not see more than five minutes before being interrupted by the lapping toddler who can't decide if Mom or Grandma has the better popcorn.

4.  When entertaining outside in summer, wear as much Off or Deet as you can without inducing respiratory distress.  If not, you will wake up the next two mornings scratching your ankles and knees until they ooze.

5.  Don't start a movie you really want to see at 10:30 pm after having not slept more than three hours the previous night, especially if you want your parents to watch it, as well.  

6.  When you bring knitting you need to work on quickly, don't forget the pattern at home.

7.  Don't buy your nephew his birthday Star Wars Legos before you go swimming as he will have no interest in going in the water when an unopened At-Ap Pod Walker sits in the car.  However, buy them after, as having a precocious, blond muffin clasp his hands to his mouth and exclaim, "There are just so many wonderful choices!" when having to decide between four measly sets at Fred Meyer, is better than most anything.

8.  Make salad for your parents. They'll be so grateful that you spent the money on the steak and bleu cheese and bacon you're making despite high cholesterol worries that they'll do the clean up dishes afterwards.  

9.  Don't listen to Patton Oswalt in the car when driving home as you'll most likely crash your car when the hysterical tears blind you.  And if you don't crash, your abdomen will be in agony, you'll suck all the oxygen out of the car and you'll do damage to your steering wheel from the pounding.

Sunday, July 06, 2008

The Life

When I make up my mind that I want something, I want the process to begin immediately and to see aggressive progress being made at every moment.  However, our house is currently surrounded by a vortex in which time doesn't progress as quickly as it does in the rest of the world.  

We're waiting for our social worker to return from vacation so we can do our homestudy, we met with the friend of my boss who adopted her son and could offer us advice, very helpful advice, and, on her suggestion, we're looking into agencies in states where there are large multicultural populations.  However, making spreadsheets isn't making progress, and no matter how many Google searches I do for domestic adoption agencies in Texas, the answers that I want aren't forthcoming.  I want to know to whom we can turn to walk us through this process, I want to know how we're going to afford it, I want to know if we are ever going to get a child.  I suck at waiting, especially when I seem to be stuck with no help coming.  I bloody well want it all to begin so it can end.  

I'm buying yarn as a balm.  I'm padding the crate of our life so the hard corners of unexpected trials won't bruise us when we crash into them.  I want to avoid cracks in shipping, and knitting keeps my hands from peeling off all the paint from our veneered souls.  Knitting countless socks might make the waiting less torturous.