We have the home visit portion of our homestudy today at 3:00 pm mountain time so please send some prayers my way this afternoon. I don't know how I've found the time to blog what with all the cleaning and scrubbing and trying to make it look like I know what I'm doing around here. And that's just with Garrett. Heaven help the rest of my house.
I must say that having him come down the stairs in tattered clothing with dirt smudges streaking his face has crossed my mind. I've also entertained thoughts of wearing the teeth just to see what might happen. I'm surprisingly less nervous and stressed than I thought I would be but when the apprehension creeps up on me I imagine outlandish conversations in my head.
Caseworker: Why do you want to adopt?
Troy: We don't like cleaning the house.
Lori: We need at least a few more to adequately keep this place clean.
Caseworker: Uh huh. So, what is your method for punishment?
Lori: Well, after my husband got out of jail we decided that we didn't want to raise a little thug. In order to curb any behavior that might be genetic, we make him go outside and get his own switch from the tree. Then there is a minimum of twenty lashes.
Caseworker: Um...okay. (To Troy) I wasn't aware that you were ever in prison.
Troy: Oh yeah. I escaped. Now I'm pretty much running from the law and hiding out as a pastor.
Caseworker: Alrighty. So, can you show me your son's room and tell me about your plans for where you'd put another child?
Troy: Our son doesn't have a room.
Caseworker: Excuse me?
Lori: Yeah, we use all the extra rooms for our drug business. The kid sleeps down here on the dog bed.
Troy: When the adopted child is an infant we'll get it a cat box and put it down in the basement so we can't hear it crying. When it gets a little older, we'll get it its very own dog bed.
Caseworker: I see. Look at the time. I really must be going.
Lori: But we haven't even had one of my special brownies yet.
I don't know why my mind goes to these places. I'd like to blame the theatre degree. In all honesty I don't think you can get much more clean cut than Troy and me without being downright weird. Our kid needs for nothing. I say needs instead of wants because he certainly wants more than he gets. He wants every single toy he sees. He wants ice cream for breakfast. He does not get these things. He has his own room and his own toy room. He has his own cabinet of children's movies and a whole bookcase full of kiddie reading material. He has basic language skills and a sweet disposition. He reminded me, just this morning, that we hadn't prayed for breakfast. He is my whole heart walking around in Lightning McQueen crocs.
Why do I want to adopt? Because next to accepting Christ as my personal Savior and marrying my husband, my boy is the best thing that I have ever done and the best thing that has ever happened to me. But I can feel in my soul that this family is not yet complete. I know that we have the capacity to love a child born not of my own body but of our hearts alone. I want a brother or a sister for the boy. I want a daughter or another son for myself.
I want another one so badly that I even thought about getting the germs off of the sponge. That's right. In case, you know, he tested it for bacteria. I read in the Parade magazine that if you wet your sponge all the way through and then microwave it for four minutes, all the living bacteria will die. After three minutes my sponge had a very dark spot in the middle and was smoking. I threw it away but that doesn't negate the fact that my house smells like a campfire.
Caseworker: Do I smell smoke?
Me: Oh. Yeah, probably just some residual smell from our ritual cat sacrifice. It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that I actually thought the bacteria on my sponge might keep me from getting another kid.