Uncomfortable Moment

So, the most mortifying part of yesterday's shenanigans was the fact that the woman who took the swabs of Matthew's mouth kept making me lick all the envelopes.

Initially, I didn't think much of it. But toward the end of all the happenings, she explained to my husband, who had just returned from taking a walk with our squirrely two-year-old that she didn't want her DNA on any of the envelopes. "It's better if the only other DNA besides his is his mom's." I can tell you that a dozen thoughts clattered through my mind as I quickly corrected her. "I'm not his mom*."

I thought about how, clearly, Garrett is our biological son. I thought about how we're both wearing wedding bands. I thought about how this woman must have been thinking that our second child popped out black three weeks ago and my husband still loves me--despite my obvious cheating. I thought about how I'd explained to her that we couldn't have any identifying information on the paperwork because we're afraid of some of the things the potential birth father has threatened. So, she must have really wondered about my morality if, while married, I conceived a child, who was born African-American, and I don't know for sure if this guy in California is even the father. I thought all of this before she could even reply, "Oh, well, you just never know."

*Of course I'm his mom. I'm his mom enough for me to have been really exhausted last night because, even when he was sleeping he was coughing and sneezing and snorting and snoring and whining and so I wasn't sleeping. At all. I'm his mom enough for me to try explaining, at 1:30 am, to him that he really needs to work on his temper and not go from sleeping to screaming like a pack of rabid coyotes in less than two seconds flat. I'm his mom enough for him to answer my weary pleads for him to please stop crying by shooting a stream of urine into my face, all over my arm, and all over my side of the bed. But, for purposes of wanting her to understand that Matthew is adopted and not the product of a rift in my marriage, I am not his mom. I realize that I should have said "biological." And, by the way, California court system, if you happen to be reading, I really don't think you can even consider taking him away from us. He peed on my face for crying out loud. That has got to count for something!

In other news, my other son has been calling me Mommy Lori all morning. It's odd but it's really hilarious. If I don't answer him right away, he drops the Mommy altogether and calls out, "LORI!"