Hopefully-soon-to-be, one more time
There’s an old Bill Cosby bit about how you’re not really a parent until you have two kids. I’m not sure I believe that—one child has been enough to make me lose my freakin’ mind—but it appears as though we’re going to at least test the theory.
My wife and I are, God-willing, adopting again.
It will be a very different situation than what transpired with our first little one, who we had in our care at three months old. This little girl—another girl; it’s just me and the dog at this point—is already 2 ½ years old. With personality by the truckload.
We were chosen to be this girl’s adoptive family because her case manager came across our file in the system and apparently saw something she liked. I’ve not been made aware of exactly what that was, but it probably had something do with my expertise in writing drawn-out exposes about spam emails and my frustration with the DVR. Surely he can impart that wisdom on this impressionable little girl! That, or the fact my wife is a child therapist and actually knows what she’s doing.
So many things have been different about this time. For starters, the way we’ve informed the rest of our family. We thought it would be nice to set up Face Time and have our daughter tell our parents/siblings/etc. that she’s going to be a big sister. Cute, right? It turned out like this:
Us: Go ahead, what do you have to tell Mum-mum and Pop?
Her: Blank stare.
Us: Go AHEAD, what do you have to say?
Her: Inaudible whisper. I’m gonna be a sister.
Us: Speak UP please! They can’t HEAR you.
Her: My foot hurts.
Me: Forget it. To parents: Mom, she’s going to be a sister. We’re adopting again. To daughter: Next time mommy and daddy will just call on our own, okay?
Her: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I’M GONNA BE A SISTER I’M GONNA BE A SISTAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Parents: I’m sorry, Mike, you’re breaking up. We didn’t get any of that.
I can’t wait to add another child factor to scenarios like that. Also interesting was everyone’s reaction to the news—they all immediately knew we were referring to adoption and not pregnancy. I guess the entire family knows my sperm doesn’t work. (I trust that last sentence was a thought of mine and I didn’t actually write it down. If I did, please burn this paper after reading.)
Anyway, the point is, we’re doing this! The little one is in our care now as a foster child as we prepare to adopt in, hopefully, a six-to-eight-month time frame. This should be a time of joy and optimism but we will probably turn into a time of stress and fretting as we wait for things to become official. Nevertheless!
Oh, she is a darling. Sweet and hilarious and full of energy. If our first could pass for my wife’s biological daughter, our hopefully-soon-to-be daughter could easily be my true Irish offspring. When we first met her and she discovered my name was Mike, she began calling me Mike the Knight, which is her favorite show on Nick, Jr. So I guess I’m already a hero in her naïve little eyes, albeit an adolescent cartoon one.
We are thrilled beyond words, and we love her already. Please wish us luck as we embark on this journey to find out if Bill Cosby was right.
Note: This column appears in the 4/18 issue of The Glendale Star and the 4/19 issue of the Peoria Times.
My wife and I are, God-willing, adopting again.
It will be a very different situation than what transpired with our first little one, who we had in our care at three months old. This little girl—another girl; it’s just me and the dog at this point—is already 2 ½ years old. With personality by the truckload.
We were chosen to be this girl’s adoptive family because her case manager came across our file in the system and apparently saw something she liked. I’ve not been made aware of exactly what that was, but it probably had something do with my expertise in writing drawn-out exposes about spam emails and my frustration with the DVR. Surely he can impart that wisdom on this impressionable little girl! That, or the fact my wife is a child therapist and actually knows what she’s doing.
So many things have been different about this time. For starters, the way we’ve informed the rest of our family. We thought it would be nice to set up Face Time and have our daughter tell our parents/siblings/etc. that she’s going to be a big sister. Cute, right? It turned out like this:
Us: Go ahead, what do you have to tell Mum-mum and Pop?
Her: Blank stare.
Us: Go AHEAD, what do you have to say?
Her: Inaudible whisper. I’m gonna be a sister.
Us: Speak UP please! They can’t HEAR you.
Her: My foot hurts.
Me: Forget it. To parents: Mom, she’s going to be a sister. We’re adopting again. To daughter: Next time mommy and daddy will just call on our own, okay?
Her: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I’M GONNA BE A SISTER I’M GONNA BE A SISTAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Parents: I’m sorry, Mike, you’re breaking up. We didn’t get any of that.
I can’t wait to add another child factor to scenarios like that. Also interesting was everyone’s reaction to the news—they all immediately knew we were referring to adoption and not pregnancy. I guess the entire family knows my sperm doesn’t work. (I trust that last sentence was a thought of mine and I didn’t actually write it down. If I did, please burn this paper after reading.)
Anyway, the point is, we’re doing this! The little one is in our care now as a foster child as we prepare to adopt in, hopefully, a six-to-eight-month time frame. This should be a time of joy and optimism but we will probably turn into a time of stress and fretting as we wait for things to become official. Nevertheless!
Oh, she is a darling. Sweet and hilarious and full of energy. If our first could pass for my wife’s biological daughter, our hopefully-soon-to-be daughter could easily be my true Irish offspring. When we first met her and she discovered my name was Mike, she began calling me Mike the Knight, which is her favorite show on Nick, Jr. So I guess I’m already a hero in her naïve little eyes, albeit an adolescent cartoon one.
We are thrilled beyond words, and we love her already. Please wish us luck as we embark on this journey to find out if Bill Cosby was right.
Note: This column appears in the 4/18 issue of The Glendale Star and the 4/19 issue of the Peoria Times.
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