I admit, I'm obsessed with adoption.
When I'm having a bad day, I sit down at my computer and proceed to pore over blog after blog recounting the stories of complete strangers on the road to adoption. My heart breaks with their setbacks and rejoices with their victories. My favorite part is the pictures of the child being "home".
And I'm not talking about a kid sitting in a house, although those make my heart squish too. I'm talking about pictures like this:
When I'm having a bad day, I sit down at my computer and proceed to pore over blog after blog recounting the stories of complete strangers on the road to adoption. My heart breaks with their setbacks and rejoices with their victories. My favorite part is the pictures of the child being "home".
And I'm not talking about a kid sitting in a house, although those make my heart squish too. I'm talking about pictures like this:
I always cry. I am crying again now! I have seen this picture many a time and it always rips my heart open and leaves me in tears. Ahhhhhh.
Why am I obsessed with adoption? I am not really sure. I don't remember when it started, but I always wished I had been adopted. This comes out in all of the short stories that teachers made us write in elementary school. I wanted to be adopted and I wanted a gigantic gumball machine in my house. Not that hard, mom!
As I got older, I realized that if I wanted to be adopted that would mean that my parents would have to die. If my parents were to die, my Aunt Terri and Uncle John would have adopted me. Ummmmmm they lived in heat stroke central (+ fire ants and mean older cousins who threw little pop rocks at my head) AND they made their kids eat all the food on their plate or they had to have it for their next meal. There were many conversations around my dinner table growing up that went something like....."PLEASE can't we go somewhere else if you die????? DON'T YOU LOVE US!??!"
As I've gotten even OLDER, I don't think it would have actually been that bad.
Anyways, since I realized I actually DIDN'T want to be adopted, the next best thing seemed to be for my parents to adopt! This might have had something to do with my inner competition between how many kids were in my family and how many kids were in Kiera's. (I lost). I prayed all the time that my parents would adopt. I still do (shhhh don't tell my mom). I don't think it's too late. And it's not that I don't love my family. I think the point is that I DO love my family. I love each person AND I love who we become when we are all together in one big loud happy bunch. I want someone else to get to share in that love.
I've been itching to adopt since I was 12. I realize that's impractical, but it's true. I always said I wanted to have my own kids and then when they were grown I wanted to adopt a sibling group from foster care.
I was so sensible.
These days I just daydream about getting to have my own "home" moment with some little kid who isn't even on anybody else's radar yet. I doubt I sound sane, but some days I feel that heartsick feeling that I read about on the adoption blogs. Like a piece of me is out there and I need to get to it. But there is nothing that I can do but wait. I am content in the waiting, but I sure do hate it sometimes. I hate that there is nothing I can do to speed along the process.
A whole lot of rambling to say..... there IS something that I can do to speed along someone else's. If you haven't checked this out yet, please do! (If you have checked it out, do it again and think about making a donation). These little boys have a home waiting, and I am dying to see that picture.
Click me! I'm a link to Cary and Amy's blog!
So, now that I've gotten that out...
Random Thoughts!
1. Today I was having a chat with a middle aged man. He was in my office. I couldn't stop staring at his eyes. I started to feel like a freak, but I couldn't pull my eyes away. I was transfixed! I was talking to him and simultaneously lecturing myself about how I needed to get myself under control, and thinking that this was really embarrassing and odd. Then I figured out what was up. This black man had RIDICULOUSLY bright blue eyes. It was gorgeous. My brain knew this was special before I caught up! Seriously though, wow.
2. I GOT A PACKAGE. My sister loves me. Which sister? They all do, see the above post, silly. But Allison chose to express this love via make up and macaroni and cheese mix and FAJITA SEASONING and goldfish, among other things. I am dying of joy, binge eating goldfish, and counting down the seconds until a nice cheesy american dinner.
3. I HAVE ICE. It's amazing how a simple thing like that can feel like the best gift in the world after 5 months without it.
4. I have plans for my birthday! I'm going to a place called "Stardust" (some kind of dinner theatre where the waiters are going to pull me on stage and sing to me. Sounds like my kind of place!). Who am I going with? My Xhosa teacher! That's right. She's awesome, she's about 2 weeks younger than I am, and ever since I started giving her rides home from class, we've become quite chummy. I am looking forward to this friendship, and for how good I am going to be at speaking xhosa!! (ndizotheth
Why am I obsessed with adoption? I am not really sure. I don't remember when it started, but I always wished I had been adopted. This comes out in all of the short stories that teachers made us write in elementary school. I wanted to be adopted and I wanted a gigantic gumball machine in my house. Not that hard, mom!
As I got older, I realized that if I wanted to be adopted that would mean that my parents would have to die. If my parents were to die, my Aunt Terri and Uncle John would have adopted me. Ummmmmm they lived in heat stroke central (+ fire ants and mean older cousins who threw little pop rocks at my head) AND they made their kids eat all the food on their plate or they had to have it for their next meal. There were many conversations around my dinner table growing up that went something like....."PLEASE can't we go somewhere else if you die????? DON'T YOU LOVE US!??!"
As I've gotten even OLDER, I don't think it would have actually been that bad.
Anyways, since I realized I actually DIDN'T want to be adopted, the next best thing seemed to be for my parents to adopt! This might have had something to do with my inner competition between how many kids were in my family and how many kids were in Kiera's. (I lost). I prayed all the time that my parents would adopt. I still do (shhhh don't tell my mom). I don't think it's too late. And it's not that I don't love my family. I think the point is that I DO love my family. I love each person AND I love who we become when we are all together in one big loud happy bunch. I want someone else to get to share in that love.
I've been itching to adopt since I was 12. I realize that's impractical, but it's true. I always said I wanted to have my own kids and then when they were grown I wanted to adopt a sibling group from foster care.
I was so sensible.
These days I just daydream about getting to have my own "home" moment with some little kid who isn't even on anybody else's radar yet. I doubt I sound sane, but some days I feel that heartsick feeling that I read about on the adoption blogs. Like a piece of me is out there and I need to get to it. But there is nothing that I can do but wait. I am content in the waiting, but I sure do hate it sometimes. I hate that there is nothing I can do to speed along the process.
A whole lot of rambling to say..... there IS something that I can do to speed along someone else's. If you haven't checked this out yet, please do! (If you have checked it out, do it again and think about making a donation). These little boys have a home waiting, and I am dying to see that picture.
Click me! I'm a link to Cary and Amy's blog!
So, now that I've gotten that out...
Random Thoughts!
1. Today I was having a chat with a middle aged man. He was in my office. I couldn't stop staring at his eyes. I started to feel like a freak, but I couldn't pull my eyes away. I was transfixed! I was talking to him and simultaneously lecturing myself about how I needed to get myself under control, and thinking that this was really embarrassing and odd. Then I figured out what was up. This black man had RIDICULOUSLY bright blue eyes. It was gorgeous. My brain knew this was special before I caught up! Seriously though, wow.
2. I GOT A PACKAGE. My sister loves me. Which sister? They all do, see the above post, silly. But Allison chose to express this love via make up and macaroni and cheese mix and FAJITA SEASONING and goldfish, among other things. I am dying of joy, binge eating goldfish, and counting down the seconds until a nice cheesy american dinner.
3. I HAVE ICE. It's amazing how a simple thing like that can feel like the best gift in the world after 5 months without it.
4. I have plans for my birthday! I'm going to a place called "Stardust" (some kind of dinner theatre where the waiters are going to pull me on stage and sing to me. Sounds like my kind of place!). Who am I going with? My Xhosa teacher! That's right. She's awesome, she's about 2 weeks younger than I am, and ever since I started giving her rides home from class, we've become quite chummy. I am looking forward to this friendship, and for how good I am going to be at speaking xhosa!! (ndizotheth
That's all.