MerrinDonahue.com

I’m sure that everybody who has been through the adoption process will tell you that they have their own special milestone moment; for many, it’s the phone call they get when they receive their referral. Others celebrate the victory of finally completing their dossier. My personal brass ring, from the very beginning, has been The Travel Call (yes, I think it’s important enough that I have used capital letters). I have dreamed of The Travel Call since before we even began compiling documents (also? One day I solemnly swear to plant a forest of trees to replace the small rainforest it took to assemble our dossier. I am a tree killer). The Travel Call is the thing that makes it all real (again, this is only MY opinion. Lots of other parents have other things that ring their bells).

Today, we FINALLY got word that we’re having our Travel Call. In fact, we’re having it tomorrow morning. Our agency sent us a rough outline, in an effort, I assume to streamline the 2-3 hour call. They attached some other helpful FAQ-type sheets by people who have been there done that. I have obsessed about what to pack, and I have to say up until today I *really* thought I was prepared. I knew all about the prescriptions we have to bring, I’ve studied about the benefits of bringing a beach ball for the kids to play with (they fold flat AND it’s a toy!), and I’ve dedicated countless hours to calculating the number of American diapers we’ll need to pack (Chinese diapers are fine for the daytime, but you want the security of American diapers at night to prevent blowouts). I’ve spent MONTHS on message boards and blogs; heck, there are entire websites dedicated to adoption travel. Never—not once—during all my research did I come across this little tidbit:

“Also, bring a half dozen or so adult size diapers. You may become sick on a day of travel and you will be very glad you have them.”

Whoa. This stopped me dead in my tracks. I mean, it makes sense, sure, but I have to say that it never crossed my mind that at the tender age of 35 that I’d be researching adult diapers. For me. Not for an aging parent, or somebody in hospice, but ME. I’ve had my share of funny (okay, borderline embarrassing) moments during this process. I like to think that I tend to find the humor in all situations, but this? This was WAY too easy. I collapsed in totally juvenile fits of laughter as I typed in the search request on Amazon. I fully realize that this makes me no better than an 8 year-old, but come ON.

There have been a LOT of days where it felt like we would never get here, and days when I didn’t want to get out of bed. There have been even more days when I have literally screamed in frustration and cried from the anxiety. When we started this journey, the wait was around 9 months. Four and a half years later, we’re finally here. We got our visas today. Tomorrow is our travel call. If everything goes according to plan (which, let’s face it, it probably won’t. That’s another lesson we’ve learned. I firmly believe that one of the things I was supposed to learn from this was patience, and boy, have I ever gotten that hammered into my head), we could be traveling in as little as 6 weeks. The Travel Call has been the light at the end of my tunnel, and until today, I was having a hard time seeing it. Now, though, it feels like I’ve stepped out into the bright shining sun. Everything came into sharp focus today, and I get to spend the next few weeks packing everything my little man needs. Have I committed to buying the adult diapers? I’m not sure yet. It Depends.

We live in the best little town ever. Tonight we drove up to St. Simons Island, GA. It’s been on our To-Do List since we moved to Fernandina Beach, but we’ve just never gotten around to it until now. Kevin came home a little early from work, and it seemed like a perfect day to check it out, plus I wanted to try a BBQ joint that I saw on the Food Network not too long ago.

St. Simons Island isn’t terribly far away (we basically live in Georgia as it is). It’s a pretty little drive up there, and the view over the bridge is stunning. The village itself is cute, but I immediately felt like downtown Fernandina Beach is MUCH cuter. The waterfront was perfectly pleasant, and we found a nice little wildlife observation area, and then we headed to the beach (if I’m around a beach, I HAVE to check it out). Again, I really think that Amelia Island has the edge. After that, we headed to dinner at Beachcomber Barbecue. I first heard about this on “The Best Thing I Ever Ate” on the Food Network, so I had pretty high hopes. Yeah…..not so much. I’ve been totally spoiled by The Happy Tomato, and I only have to drive about 5 minutes to get really exceptional barbecue. I think that The Beachcomber is a perfectly wonderful bar, but for seriously good pulled pork, I’ll stick closer to home.

Bottom line: St. Simons Island was pleasant. It was definitely worth the trip up there to check it out, and I’m looking forward to going back up that way to check out Jekyll Island, as well. However, I have to say that Amelia Island is WAY better than St. Simons, and it’s also the best-kept secret on the east coast. I’m in love with our little island. Our tiny little town is just about perfect. Our beaches are pristine (and they’re not crowded, plus they all have sand, which we didn’t find to be the case in Georgia). I honestly think we won the lottery when we moved here, and I don’t ever want to move.

Guitars as weapons. Guys in weird masks with Erik Estrada hair. You’re welcome.

Rumor Queen posted a link to a free ebook called “Realistic Expectations”. It’s a compilation of articles on topics ranging from attachment to establishing good sleep habits. Fear not, though, there are also plenty of articles that apply to friends and family, too! Aren’t you lucky? You can download it here. Did I mention it’s FREE?

We’ve had a lot of helpful advice from parents who have been there and done that, and it’s been invaluable. We’ve also had a lot of input from well-meaning people who have absolutely NO CLUE what they’re saying. Few things push my buttons more than somebody patently dismissing my concerns for my child (i.e. “Well, you really don’t know how your child will be affected. He could have no issues whatsoever.). These kinds of statements seem innocuous, but they are at best naive, and at worst harmful. While it’s true that I won’t know just how MUCH my child will be affected, I DO know that he WILL be. And while I fervently hope that he will have “no issues”, I doubt that will be the case, and there’s no harm at all in being prepared for that.

I do know one thing for sure, though: My child is the cutest, most awesome kid EVER, and I can’t wait to bring him home.

Let’s face it: There are TONS of obstacles that Adoptive Parents have to negotiate that are beyond foreign to biological parents. The paperwork alone is enough to make a grown woman cry. Over the last five years, I’ve definitely had my share of moments where I wanted nothing more than to pull my hair out because of some stupid form, or the wait, or new regulations, or….well, the list goes on. Every once in a while, however, something happens that is so ridiculously absurd that you just have to laugh.

As part of our homestudy update, Kevin and I both have to obtain new statements of good health from our doctor. This really isn’t a big deal, especially because, this time around, it only has to go to our social worker (instead of being sent to China). We did have to have some routine blood work done, though, including the standard HIV test. In an effort to be thorough, the doctor ordered some additional tests.

This is also the perfect time to remind you, dear reader, that we live in a VERY small town. Our doctor’s office is located right at the front of our neighborhood, so pretty much everybody that lives in North Hampton goes there, too. Kevin had already reminded me that almost everyone who works where he does uses this particular doctor, so, like everything else, I needed to be on my best behavior with everyone there (hello? I don’t even get the mail unless my hair and makeup are done, and that’s only at the end of the driveway). News travels fast around here, and that news could be something as trivial as seeing somebody’s wife at the grocery store with curlers still in her hair. Yes, I’m serious.

There was a HUGE wait yesterday at the lab, and I was at the end of the line. There was only one person behind me. They call patients back in groups of two, so she and I walked back together. The phlebotomist told the other lady to have a seat, and then she began to get to work on me. She was reviewing the doctor’s orders, and then she proceeded to say:

“OK. You’re here for HIV, syphilis, Hepatitis, and a full STD panel, right?”

It was at this point that I became acutely aware of the other patient in the room. She had been fairly unobtrusive before, but she didn’t quite manage to stifle her gasp. I could feel her eyes boring into me, and it dawned on me that she was clearly thinking that “Escort” was definitely listed on my resume.

I tried to think quickly. I started to explain to the phlebotomist that “It’s for adoption”, but as soon as I started talking she said:

“Did they explain to you that you have to come back in to get your HIV results? We can’t give them out over the phone”.

Now here’s the part that gets a little cringe-worthy. I’m sure we’ve all had moments where you wish you could reach out and physically take back the words that just came out of our mouths. This was one of those moments. I said:

“Oh, I know. I’ve done this a few times. I’m a pro.”

Yikes. I actually heard the other woman’s jaw hit the floor. Good job, Merrin. You just confirmed (in her mind, at least) that you are, in fact, a HOOKER.

A couple of minutes later, she was all done; my blood was in neatly labeled vials ready to head to the lab. I got up to leave, and I made the BAD mistake of looking at the other patient. There was a look of horror mixed with pity on her face as she quickly averted her eyes. I couldn’t help it; I started to laugh. Uncontrollably. Somehow, I managed to choke out “Have a nice day!”, and I fled the doctor’s office with tears of laughter streaming down my face.

It’s only a matter of time until I run into her, either while I’m out walking the dog, or at the grocery store. I can only imagine how quickly this “news” is going to spread, and I suppose it’ll go a little something like this:

“Lock up your husbands, ladies; there’s a brand new bunny on the block.”

Every once in a while I feel like somebody hits the Fast Forward button on my life and forgets to slow it down. Things have DEFINITELY been like that lately, and I find myself in the rare position of having quite a bit to say but not nearly enough time to sit down and get it all out.

I had a great time in Texas….but I think my visit was WAY too short (Kevin would disagree). I loved visiting with Camille, Josh, and GMan, and I loved getting to see their families and friends. G is growing up too fast for me, so I can only imagine how Camille feels about all of this. When I was a kid, Mom always said she was going to put bricks on my head so I would stop growing; I totally get that now. I don’t feel like the grown-ups are getting any older, but the kiddos sure are shooting up like weeds!

I’m also SOOOOOO glad that I made the time (finally) to go home. I haven’t been back to the Fort since we moved to Florida, and boy, have I ever missed it. I got to spend time with my family, and I also got to see SO many friends (to those of you I missed on this trip, I’m truly sorry, and I miss you. I’ll try to be back soon, I promise). I think I was long overdue for this trip, too (and not just because I’ve been in severe Mexican food withdrawal). Don’t get me wrong: I LOVE Amelia Island. I don’t want to move away from here anytime soon. But Fort Worth is home. Mama’s Pizza, the museums, family, friends, cruisin’ the Bowie…..All of those things are part of the fabric of, well, me. As much as I love having people come and visit here (and those who HAVE come to visit are probably SO tired of hearing us gush about just how awesome this town is), it’s not the same as being with those people back in the place that made me.

I am one of the luckiest people I know when it comes to friendships. I’m one of the fortunate few who can say that I still have some of the same friends now that I had when I was a kid (Angie: I’m SO glad we’re able to pick up right where we left off!). I have girlfriends who have held my hand through heartbreaks, who stood up for me at my wedding, and who have (on more than one occasion) kicked my ass back into reality when I was being an idiot (by the way? Thanks, Megan and Jessica. Y’all have always been there for me, and always without judgement. I love y’all). I love that, one day, all of our kids will be able to get together and talk about the stories that they’ve heard about when their moms were younger. Wait. On second thought, maybe we should censor some of those stories.

As much as I was ready to go home and see my husband and my dogs, it was H-A-R-D to get on that plane. I could’ve used just a couple more days back in the fold of what is so familiar to me (plus, I really could’ve gone for one more enchilada). The bluebonnets were still going great guns, and I’ve missed that. I would’ve liked to have taken a walk through Trinity Park, preferably during Mayfest (but without the hailstorm, thank you very much). I also didn’t get to see everybody I wanted to (you know who you are). The silver lining in all of this, though, is that now I *know* I won’t let as much time pass before I come back. And also? New buildings may pop up, and roads may get a little wider, but Fort Worth never really changes. There will always be bricks on Camp Bowie, Mama’s Pizza will always be tasty, and the Mexican food will—-without a doubt—-be better than anything I can get in Florida.

And no matter what Thomas Wolfe says, you can, in fact, go home again.

Between Facebook and Twitter, I have begun to notice a void. I’ve had my blog since 2000 (although some of the original archives never got moved), and up until late last Fall, I was pretty dedicated to it. I learned a little basic HTML, I updated themes, changed the layout, and generally kept it fed and watered.

Don’t get me wrong; I love social media. It’s even safe to say that I’m addicted to it (hello? Words With Friends is my LIFE). The problem is that I have become a master at summing up my life in 140 characters or less, and in so doing, I’ve sacrificed the chatty part of myself. I came to this stark realization today when I went to tweet about the genius that is Baz Luhrmann, which is something that just simply cannot be done within the confines of 140 little characters. The other issue is that while my Facebook account is extremely private, my blog has ALWAYS been public. I *like* that my blog is public. I enjoy knowing that anybody anywhere can see what I write without unfettered access to every detail of my life (which is precisely WHY my Facebook account is private).

I’ve missed the outlet of putting virtual pen to paper and yammering on about whatever happened to be on my mind at the moment. I’ve gotten lazy, I admit it. Twitter is convenient. Facebook is convenient. And maybe blogging is old school, or even obsolete, but I miss it.

Wow.

Not since Benny Lava have I been so strangely addicted to a video. Yikes. And if you don’t remember Benny Lava, click here.

You’re welcome.

Most people who know me understand that, even though I am a card-carrying liberal hippie Democrat, I have managed to maintain a relatively high level of rationality in my everyday life. Sure, I bring my own bags to the grocery store, but at the same time I use household cleaners loaded with stuff that’s probably pretty dangerous. I LOVE bleach (Camille can fill you in on my life-long love affair with bleach). Nothing says “clean” like bleach. Sure, it’s stinky and will burn your skin off, but man, is it ever effective at killing the nasty bacteria in my kitchen sink.

However, while I can extoll the virtues of chlorine bleach as a staple in my cleaning cabinet all day long, I find myself faced with what I think is a serious problem now that we’ve moved. Ever since we left Texas, I’ve complained repeatedly about the horrible water quality here in Florida. Orlando is bad, Tampa is bad, but NOTHING comes close to how bad our water is here in Fernandina Beach. I’ve known it since we moved up here; my clothes fade REALLY fast in the wash, my skin always smells faintly of chlorine after I shower or wash my hands, and I’ve even been known to give the dogs bottled water (I have YET to drink the tap water here; it scares me). Five minutes ago, though, the depth of the problem *literally* hit me right in the face. I realized that the toilet in the guest bath was running (as it is prone to do), so I opened the door to fix it. Oh. My. God. The overwhelming stench of chlorine from the running water has burned the inside of my nose. I have a headache from two seconds of exposure. That bathroom smells like it has been SOAKED in bleach, and it was caused by RUNNING WATER.

Roughly 9% of all rectal and bladder cancers are due directly to the long-term consumption of overly chlorinated water (source: July issue of the American Journal of Public Health). Chlorine has also been linked to artery damage (awesome, since I live with a cardiac patient), as well as digestive imbalance (chlorine kills protective acidophilus found in most drinking water). I don’t think there is a filter on the market that is capable of removing the chlorine from my water. I will definitely be looking into a shower filter, though, because chlorine is absorbed through the skin, which can lead to melanoma.

I’m not usually an alarmist, and when we lived in Texas I had no problem drinking the tap water, even without a filter. But there is NO way anybody can tell me that my water here is safe, and if they’d like to try, I’d love to extend the invitation to come on over and spend 5 minutes in my guest bathroom with the door closed and the water running. I’ll stick with my bottles of water, in the meantime, and I honestly don’t care that my carbon footprint is the size of Sasquatch because of it.

And to all a good night. We are beyond blessed to have such a wonderful family and network of friends. I hope everyone had as great a day as I did.

It’s no secret that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday (in fact, I’m pretty sure I mention it every year). I love everything about it: the turkey, the pie, the food coma, the football game on the TV in the background as everybody tries to talk over everybody else. Mostly, though, I love that Thanksgiving brings people together, and that everything slows down long enough for us to all realize exactly what we’re thankful for.

I’m beyond lucky. I have more blessings than there are stars in the sky. I have awesome dogs (even the beagle, who I couldn’t love any more if I tried), my husband has a great new job that he absolutely loves, we live in an incredible neighborhood in a great little house (and when we moved, everything arrived in one piece), and we live near a great beach. These things are more than I could have ever dreamed of, but they’re just the icing on the cake.

I have a husband who loves me, and who is healthy and happy 18 months after something terrifying. I love him beyond reason, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have THE most amazing family on the planet, and I’m enjoying them more than I ever thought possible. I have a mother who loves me no matter what, a father who understands me and loves me anyway, a bonus mom (okay, a step-mom, but I like bonus mom better) who has always let me be myself, even when myself wasn’t very nice, a sister who I swear is an alien, because no teenager could possibly be as cool or composed as she is, and who I LOVE hanging out with.

This Thanksgiving, we decided to go to Guana with my family. Normally, I do Thanksgiving at my house. When we were in Texas, we had my Mom over. When we were in Orlando, Kevin’s family came to stay. I haven’t spent Thanksgiving with my Dad in 10 years. Sure, we’d see them around the holidays, but any kid who has divorced parents will tell you that it’s a juggling act to try and balance all of that, so something eventually gives. This year is a very rare treat for me, and I couldn’t be more thankful for the time I’ve gotten to spend here with them.

One day, I swear, I’ll move to this island. Life is never better than it is down here.

I suppose it’s time for an update. Now that we’re starting to get settled, things are starting to calm down again, and we’re getting back into our routine. We absolutely LOVE our new house; even the dogs are adjusting to not having a fenced yard. Oliver is especially pleased with this arrangement as it means he gets to spend a LOT of time at the local dog park. The old ladies like this, too, since they get a much needed break from the crazy beagle!

We’ve spent a little time exploring our new area, and the decision is unanimous: We could not have chosen a better place to live. The people are SO friendly, we’re very close to the beach, and there are a TON of cute little shops and restaurants. Kevin is loving his new job (even though he’s extremely busy). We’re just about all the way unpacked, although we do still have a few pictures to hang. All in all, things are moving right along, and we couldn’t be any happier with this new adventure!

Hey! Welcome to October! For the past eight years, that means one thing: BOOBIETHON! For the next seven days bloggers all over are helping to raise money for Komen, and you can help. Click here to donate. Did I forget to mention that there are also lots of pictures of ta-tas? Kevin and I are proud eight-year supporters of the Boobiethon, and we’re passionate about saving boobies. What are you waiting for? Go give Komen some $$$! Oh, and if you can’t give money, then you can at LEAST do one thing (even if it’s just sending a picture of your own rack).

It was time to brush off the dust of the morning’s hike and settle in for some lunch (and yes, an ice-cold Tusker or two). As we had come to expect, we had a beautiful spread, and we stuffed ourselves silly in the pretty little open-aired dining room overlooking the pool. After everything we had seen and done over the past 36 hours, we felt that it was time for a little brainless fun. We ran back to our rooms, grabbed our bathing suits, and met back up at the awesome infinity pool. I settled in with my journal with every intention of trying to get some thoughts down on paper; my good intentions, however, were apparently being used as paving stones in hell that day, since all I could do was watch the spectacle unfolding before me.
It started with Andrew throwing in the stick for the dogs to chase. Soon enough both Andrew and Nic were diving in. From there, it got downright crazy. With Kevin behind the lens, they each tried to outdo the other with ridiculous (okay, hilarious) feats of gymnastic diving. This all evolved into some pretty funny staged photographs, complete with one of Nic “punching” Andrew in the face. It wasn’t long until Dad decided to jump in followed quickly by Katharine (where were Dana and I, you ask? Dude. That water was COLD, and there was NO way I was jumping in, so I stayed wisely on the sidelines). Out of nowhere, Andrew scooped Katie up and tossed her unceremoniously into the drink, which of course elicited nothing but laughter from the rest of us, and although Kate feigned indignation, I secretly suspect she loved it. After that, things started to settle down, and Kevin struck a pose by the edge of the pool.

We were starting to show a little wear, and we had a little over an hour before tea (I may have neglected to mention yet another wonderful part of our Kenyan routine: afternoon tea. Coffee in the morning, meals on a schedule, tea in the afternoon…..can we go back now?), so we headed back to our rooms to recuperate a bit before the next adventure. I have to confess: I REALLY needed a nap, so I laid down and was out in no time flat. Kevin took the opportunity to enjoy our patio, and he spent some time on his computer while the hyrax watched curiously from a distance. It’s a good thing he was working on it, too, since he was able to fully recover the photos he thought were lost forever (I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet in our little story, but while we were in Buffalo Springs, the MacBook got a little bit hungry and decided to eat around 700 photos that he had taken, both in London and in Kenya, and we were sick about it). Hot on the heels of his technological success, he decided it was time to join the others for an evening horseback ride. In the interest of full disclosure, I feel compelled to say that I sat out this particular evening’s adventure and sundowners. I was simply too overwhelmed, and I opted to remain back in the room with my journal, my camera, and a verrrrrry long bath, so the rest of the story is being told through the eyes of others. Also? In hindsight I *almost* wish I would’ve gone along for the ride that night, but I was honestly in deep sensory overload.

The boys and Dana mounted up and headed out. At one point, the were mere feet from a family of giraffe; it seems that as long as you’re on horseback, the giraffe could care less and will wander right up to you. Kevin, unfortunately, had a rather…let’s say “sedate” horse, and when they wandered a little too close, he had to give his poor steed a little extra “oomph” to get him going. Katie wisely chose to follow along with Nic in the Rover, and everybody arrived safely at the sundowner site where a roaring fire was awaiting.

Andrew quickly manned the grill, complete with more steak and yummy sausages. Against all odds (and I have to say that I can’t prove that this really happened since I wasn’t there to witness it firsthand) Katharine actually tried a {{{gasp}}} sausage. This is a very big deal (and seriously? I know I said it already, but those sausages were the bomb!). More Tuskers were opened, I’m fairly certain that a decent quantity of wine was consumed, and stories were undoubtedly told. There were certainly plenty of smiles to go around.

By now, it was time to head back for some dinner. I had more than enough time to decompress in the super-cool crocodile bathtub, and after Kevin had a chance to wash the horse off of him, we headed back up to the main house for dinner. We ate inside on this night, and it was delicious, as always. After the meal, Dad, Dana, and Katie headed back to their rooms (I suspect they needed a little decompression, too), while Kevin and I joined Nic and Andrew in the living room for a little ginger tea (way yummy, and just what we needed at the end of such a full day). We looked at a few pictures, told a few more stories, saw a genet cat prowling around in the rafters on the porch outside, and then we hit the hay, too. It had truly been an overwhelming couple of days, and I mean that in the absolute best way possible.