Monday, January 30, 2012

In Memorium

My dear friend E went to be with Jesus last week.

Normally I roll my eyes when I read in obits that someone went "home to the Lord" or to "be with Jesus" or is "resting safely in Abraham's bosom."  (OK, the last one I also cringe because someone typed bosom. And apparently I'm twelve and think that's a funny word.  Bosom.)  But with E, it's just not right to say she merely died.  If you'd ever been blessed to meet E, you would know that despite the fact she was pushing 80, she was very much alive.  I just can't think of her as anything other than causing a ruckus while simultaneously bragging about God.  So hear me when I say that when I write E went to be with Jesus it is not a teary-eyed euphemism.  It is fact.  She is with Jesus.  And they are both probably laughing. 

E was one heck of a woman.  When I first met her 5 years ago in my bible study group, my first thought was "Oh, Gosh.  Who is this woman?"  I probably rolled my eyes as she pulled out a notecard of all the people she was praying for.  She was loud.  A yankee.  Italian.  Catholic.  But the more I grew to know and love her, I found myself asking, "Oh?  Gosh!  Who.is.this.woman?" 

When I grow up, I want to be like E.  She was more than a tad irreverent.  She was forever surrounding herself with those in need, sharing the wisdom God gave her through her struggles of parenting a child with brain injuries.  She prayed me through infertility.  She prayed us through the adoption of our daughter whom she claimed as her own.  Her sweet Grace.  Her pretty Grace.  She loved intensely.  She talked about her husband of 60 years like a high school girl in love with the prom king.  The vulnerability, humor, and grace with which she parented B has emboldened me to pursue a special needs adoption.  E taught me I don’t need a halo to love someone the world deems unloveable—I just need Jesus.  And maybe a glass of wine.  (Or three.)



So my beloved E, you will be missed on this side of heaven.  I look forward to sharing eternity with you.  In the mean time, please love on our Charlie.  Protect him and cuddle him and tell him we are on our way.


Friday, January 27, 2012

Stitches and Timelines and Fee Schedules, Oh My!


Yesterday was a pretty big day.  

Gracie got her first set of stitches.  She took a header into a coffee table.  If you know Gracie, this isn't shocking as she doesn't walk anywhere.  She runs and jumps at all times.  All times.

Post stitches we asked her what she wanted for dinner.  She said “Chocolate and Dip”.  So we went to Cheeburger Cheeburger and let her have a milkshake for dinner and didn’t even comment when she didn’t eat the fries but sucked down an entire ramekin full of ketchup.  According to the Government, ketchup is a vegetable, so my awesome Mommy status remains intact.

Additionally, it was our first of five total interviews for our home study.  Once again I was reminded at how much I adore our agency and our case worker.  Truthfully, because I was friends with our case worker prior to our adoption, I’ve been worried that it has hindered our adoption process.  (Read: I feel like I can’t call and yell at her because she’s not at my beck and call nor send angry emails.)  But now I’m seeing this desire to act lovingly towards C as a good thing.  That said, once our homestudy is complete, we will be transferred to a China Special Needs Waiting Child Dossier specialist and C tells me I can haggle that person to my heart’s content.  

We were given a more definitive time line (well, sort of…international adoption is rather unpredictable) and a more detailed fee schedule.  (BONUS!!)

This is basically what it boils down to…our last home study home visit is February 16th, therefore our homestudy will be completed no later than March 16th.  (AKA when a little over $7,000 is due.) 
From there we will complete our dossier that goes to China.  This will be completed and logged in no later than May 16th.  (But possibly could be sometime in April!!)  

Then after this we wait to receive a referral.  There’s really  no way to predict this as the China program siphons all of their children through a single portal that is only updated and open to agencies one day a month.  There are also a handful of children that are Bethany specific because they live in Bethany run orphanages and hospitals.  These children are available for referral anytime.  

Because we are open to many things (don’t worry—I’ve already got a half written post about that.  Spoiler alert!  It includes a scene in which Sloan screams about seeing a dude’s junk.), it stands to reason that our first referral will come quickly.  When we receive a referral, we will get both a photo and our referral’s medical records.  China is relatively safe in terms of medical records.  Some countries pad their kids’ files as orphanages get paid by the kid and the malady.  Not so with China.  China genuinely wants to have their children adopted, but because our medical systems are so different, there is a margin for error.  But anyway, we’ll get our “take with a grain of salt and tequila back” medical records and will meet with our medical team to decide if we desire to move ahead with the referral.  WE HAVE 48 HOURS TO DECIDE.  

Our special needs openness form is being reviewed presently by the national China team and after we have a conference call with them to discuss the reality of what they are seeing in China and the needs that are common amongst little boys, we will have a clearer picture of our wait time.  Also, at this time, they will be aware of our file and begin to throw our hat in the ring for possible referrals.

Anywhoozie, after our dossier is logged in by China, and our referral locked in, we will travel to China to get Charlie in 6-12 weeks. 

Wait, what?

If you are paying attention…that means it is possibly that at the earliest we could be in China in August?

Wait, what?

Ahem.

Honestly, I am praying that we are approved for travel sooner rather than later, because I’m really fearful that we will actually be scheduled to travel over Christmas.  And I reject that possibility.  I’m cool with turning 35 in China around Thanksgiving.  Heck, it’d be most convienient if we went in August so I didn’t have to worry about getting the kids to school.  

Also, let it be noted that when it is all said and done…this adoption will cost…

DRUM ROLL PLEASE….

Between $26,704-$37,424.  The range is because there are variables based on dollar values in China, travel prices, costs of our medical copays and the like, and how much we spend on food and gifts in China (so let’s assume we will be in the high end.)  We will also, as we get closer to travelling, let y’all know our airline and folks who have frequent flyer points on that airline can donate them to our cause, which will hopefully take a big chunk out of that number.  I’m hoping to keep it around 30.  (Which is on par with how much we’ve spent previously to receive our children.  Infertility ain’t cheap, but it does force one to evaluate one’s priorities.)

GASP.  I’m trying to remember that God brought us here and will continue to be faithful in providing for us.  There are several grants and loans we can apply for once our homestudy is complete.  We will be having a yard sale in June and that will bring in probably $2000 or so.  

So while you are praying for God to tell someone to approve our grant applications and possibly just give us large sums of money, please could you also add to that my speaking gig this afternoon?  I will be talking to waiting adoptive families about transracial adoption and grieving an adoption that falls through.  Even though I’m really too busy to do it, I will always agree to these gigs.  Because nothing helps a frazzled heart than retelling once again about the goodness of God to our family.  Of his faithfulness to send Grace to heal our broken hearts and empty arms.  

Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.


Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Why We Are Choosing Special Needs


I keep getting asked by folks why we are choosing to adopt both internationally and a child with special needs.  I have a couple answers to that.  

 First, I should just be honest with you and say, I don’t know.  We just want to obey God.  We are confident that he is leading us to adopt an Asian child with special needs.  We figure that will be easier to do to if we adopt a child from China and request that he has special needs.  It’s just a hunch, but there are probably more Asians in China than in America.  

And the need is great.  With China’s one child policy, little boys with imperfections as minor as birthmarks and as profound as Fetal Alcohol Sydrome are literally abandoned in the streets.  Is there a more special need than to not be left an orphan?  

Also, I’ve come to realize I have a pretty high threshold for weird.  Things that would drive others batty make me feel comfortable.  Speech delay?  Been there.  Done that.  Got the best speech therapist in my county on speed dial.  Born addicted to drugs?  Dude, I literally give speeches about that.  Infectious Disease?  They already know me at MCV.  Missing a limb?  I’m all over it.  Deaf child?  I’m friends with a woman who used to teach ASL at the college level.  Autism?  I’ve got friends who are already giving me information.  

Don’t believe I’m being glib about this.  I know special needs are profound game changers.    I’ve cried alongside friends over the heartaches their children must bear.  I know it will be hard.  I know it will hurt.  

By being friends with some women who have children with special needs, I’ve noticed a couple of things.  Having a kid who has weekly doctor’s appointments or physical therapy sessions is simultaneously a heartache and a joy.  It is both a huge deal that changes everything and also just another thing you have to figure out.  My son will be my son and his needs will just be his needs.  And we will meet them as God provides.  We will struggle with making sure that Charlie doesn’t get all our energy and affection.  We will struggle with Henry and Grace learning that they may need to have fewer things because of Charlie.  We will struggle to relearn what our family’s “normal” looks like. 

There’s also a selfish part of this.  I have a friend who has a son with Prader-Willi syndrome.  You’ve probably never heard of that.  It’s rare.  And it is a difficult and complicated diagnoses.  But my friend is also just a regular Mom.  Really.  She’s awesome and I love her, but like most of us, she doesn’t always get to bathe everyday, her house only gets really cleaned before company comes over, and, at any given moment, she probably has food stuck to her shirt.  She doesn’t have wings or a halo.  But here’s the thing—she looks more like Jesus than anyone I know.  She is an advocate—at times knowing more about her son’s diagnoses than pediatricians.  She is a cheerleader, a teacher, a comforter, a Mommy.  The pain she bears for the sake of her son enables her to see many things rightly.  She doesn't sweat the small stuff, because frankly, she just doesn't have time.  And I want that.  I want a family that reflects the goodness of God.  The end.

I want my family to be aware of its need for Jesus.  I want us to never get so self-sufficient that we forget who is the Great Provider.  I want for all of my kids to know what real love looks like—a love that doesn’t count the cost of suffering, a love that chooses to be uncomfortable for the sake of another, a love that values joy over happiness, redemption over ease, reconciliation over smoothness, grace over rightness, resurrection over complacency.  

And, there’s also this:

When I was lost, broken, spiritually paralyzed, and an enemy, Jesus came for me.  He left the comforts of heaven and came to the chaos.  For me.  And he was not content to just forgive.  He was not content to just make me right before the Father.  No, He adopted me.  He gave me a family.  He gave me an inheritance.   And there’s nothing like the surety of love to set you free from all your fears. 

We can do this.


Monday, January 23, 2012

Winged Feet Fundraising Opportunity

My awesome friend Kristen Stewart (no, not THAT Kristen Stewart) is a graphic designer, photographer, writer, reader, Jesus lovin' hipster Mom birthing babies in bathtubs, Tarheel superwoman has generously offered to donate 50% of all sales from her Etsy Shop Winged Feet from today, Monday January 23rd until the end of the month.  No need to put in a promo code, no need to tell her you know me.  Just shop and receive some of the cutest printables around.  This is really a great deal and one I would love if you would tweet about or link to your wall on facebook.  Even if you don't buy, that's a simple way to help in a fundraiser that doesn't find me hunched over my dining room table with a glue gun at 2 am.  

If the whole promotion weren't about raising money for our adoption, here is what I would buy.

 Family rules which I would get in gray and hang in our upstairs hall between the kids' rooms.


I'd get a Virginia one with the heart in Richmond for Henry with his birthday.  A Virginia one with the heart in Charlottesville for Gracie.  And a red and yellow China one with the heart in whatever province he is born in for Charlie.
 
And I would get this for Charlie's baptism invitation.  
(Let's briefly pretend that I haven't already discussed the menu with Sloan and that Sloan did not roll his eyes at me.)




Thursday, January 19, 2012

My Friend Tracy is Awesome...Really Awesome


Remember my awesome friend Tracy who guest posted awhile ago?  I wanted to follow up with an update regarding the abundance of generosity shown by her and many others.

This past Sunday, about a dozen of my friends came over for some bubbly and snacks and for some sweet time together for my 31 Party and Adoption Fundraiser.  I shared a bit about our adoption process, the huge need for adoption of special needs little boys in China, the associated costs and also fielded general questions about orphan care and adoption.  Then my friend Tracy, the 31 consultant who is also a Foster mom, did her schpeal.  

We had a blast.  We learned which friend of mine you should go to if ever you need a tampon because she basically stores them in a 31 duffle bag in her car.  Every single bag we looked at, she remarked, “Ooooh, that’d be great for tampons.”  Never mind it was a rolling suitcase.  This is why I love her and am determined to get to know her better.  I mean, sense the surgery and all, that hasn’t really been a need of mine (can I get an AMEN!), but I just love someone who can talk about “ladytown” at the drop of a hat.  (Ladytown being another term we learned at the party…)

Anywhoozie, the party was a big success!  Between the folks who ordered online and came to the party, it was Tracy’s BIGGEST PARTY EVER.  She sold over $1400 worth of purses, coolers, stationary, and luggage.  I earned close to $300 worth of free bags which I will get to auction off for The Plum Panda. WOOT!  (So if you missed the sale, you may be able to score something cute for less than retail!  I ordered some of the best sellers for my freebies.  So make sure to like The Plum Panda on Facebook and check for updates to the Plum Panda Blog in the coming weeks.)  

Additionally, Tracy donated to our adoption fund 100% of her commission.  100%.  She did all this work and prep simply because she loves me, our family, and our little Charlie.  How much did we raise?  

DRUM ROLL PLEASE…….

$365.

Folks, that’s a lot of money.  17 people in 2 states bought items to help us bring our boy home.  I am overwhelmed at the generosity of people.  (So if you live in the Richmond area, I’d love it if you would consider hosting a 31 party for her where she can actually make some money.) 

Additionally, I set up my Plum Panda goods and sold a picture frame, a necklace, ALL of my hair clippies, and have a couple special orders already placed.  At the end of the day, between Plum Panda and Tracy’s generosity, our adoption fund just grew by about $550.



My friends are awesome.  God is awesome.  And He is doing something pretty incredible right here before my eyes.  Thank you to everyone who contributed.  It will be such a treat to one day share with my son all the folks whom God used to bring him to us.  They say it takes a village to raise a child.  Sometimes, it takes a village to give a child a family.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

He Loves Me


Sometimes I am so overcome with love for my kids that I MUST swoop in and get their attention.  I kneel down, take one of their tiny faces in my hands, put my nose to their nose and say, “I love you.  I’m glad you are mine.” Then I kiss them on the forehead and send them on their way, possibly with a gentle tap on the rump.  Mostly, this is met with Gracie going limp in an attempt to wriggle away or Henry trying to avoid my gaze by rolling his eyes back into his head.

This morning, my friends, Jesus took my face into his scarred hands, and gently whispered to me, “I love you.  I’m glad you are mine.”  ­

Today was my first morning back for the semester at my women’s bible study.  And we have a new woman in our group.  This woman…

wait for it…

wait for it…

has a special needs son adopted from China.  As she sat with her boy cuddled up in her lap on Orphan Sunday in our Fellowship Hall,  God used this woman to turn Sloan’s heart to desire a special needs son from China.  I knew who she was and had, of course, stalked her and “friended” her on Facebook (I may have a problem, I know), but now I get to KNOW her.  To be a sister to her and she to me.  To learn from her how to pray for our Charlie and for our hearts.  

And if that is not enough to show you how precious my little family is to Jesus, her son will soon be 4 and guess what he just loves to play with?  Trains.  Like he loves trains so much we may have sung the Thomas theme song together.  Oh, and did I mention she is also a doctor and has offered to help us sort out all the special needs?  Yeah, now Jesus is basically starring in a De Beers commercial with me.  I know.  I know.  I’m trying not to be embarrassed about it…

Sometimes God’s love is like a blinding light and strikes you down.  Sometimes it’s a slap to the face to knock some sense into you.  Sometimes it hurts like the cauterization of a wound that can't heal on its own.  Sometimes it is a quiet hush of song.  But sometimes, it’s so dear and tender and personal th­at if I close my eyes, I can still feel His nose on mine.

Monday, January 16, 2012

A Real MLK conversation

I feel sort of bad that I didn't throw a big party for MLK day.  Please don't think it is because I ignored the enormity of Dr. King's heart, or his willingness to speak out against hate. I dressed Gracie in her birthday gift overalls, because I understand that even the legality of our family is a gift that is due to his work and the civil rights activists who came behind him.


It's just that, well, you see, Dr. King had this dream where little brown girls could grab the hands of little white boys and walk as brother and sister and mainly that has looked a lot like WWF wrestling as of late in my family room.

We did have a play date with our friends Jacob and Jeremiah who are originally from Ethiopia and we ate Oreos as a MLK treat.  I think you'll appreciate the humor in the fact that the children adopted from Ethiopia told this white woman her bathroom was dirty and they almost didn't want to use it.  So they are totally American now.  And no, that's not dirt.  The seat is just chipped and we are cheap.

We watched the "I Have a Dream" speech this afternoon and it was not as deep or profound for my children as I'd hoped it would be.  Gracie was chanting "Dabba Dabba?  I want Dabba Dabba!!"

It seems that the masses of people on the mall are no comparison to DJ Lance Rock and Biz Marquee's Beat of the Day.  Please know that when I hear Dr. King say With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope.  With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood, I am moved to tears.  And that when I hear those cracked out Gabba trees sing about sharing my ears bleed and I want to stab my eyes with a fork.

Also, Henry thinks the speech is too long to watch without snacks.  He considers going twelve minutes without a bag of goldfish as epic suffering. Henry just cannot wrap his brain around the sufferings of injustice Dr. King withstood.  He doesn't have a compartment in his brain into which to place racism.  I've tried to explain it and he. just. doesn't. get. it.  The conversation went something like this...

Me: So do you know why we celebrate King Day?
Henry:  Because we don't have school.
Me:  Yes.  You don't have school because it is Martin Luther King, Jr. day.
Henry:  Yes.  That's right.  But I like school.
Me:  I'm glad you like school.  But we celebrate the work of a man named Dr. King today because he spoke out against mean people.
Henry:  I don't like mean people.
Me:  Yes.  Me either. 
Henry: Why were the people mean?
Me:  Well, there were laws that were mean to people with brown skin.
Henry:  Gracie has brown skin.
Me:  Yes.  And there were people with pink skin who were mean to the people with brown skin and the people with pink skin were selfish and greedy and hurtful.

Henry:  I have pink skin!
Me:  Yes.  You do have pink skin.
Henry:  But I'm only mean to Gracie when she hits me.  And she never shares her toys with me.  And sometimes she sits on my head and screams, "I'm a hat!  I'm a hat!" and I don't like that.
Me:  (thinking, I got nothin') Uhhhhh....
Henry:  You have pink skin too.
Me:  Yes, I have pink skin too.  We say that people with pink skin are white and people with brown skin are black.
Henry:  But we're pink, not white.  And Gracie is brown, not black.  And I think you shouldn't be mean to people or be greedy.  That's not sharing or showing the love of Jesus.
Me:  No, no.  You're right.  But, back to Martin Luther King, Jr.
Henry:  Junior?  Like the asparagus?  You know I like Veggietales.  Pistachio is my favorite.  We got that CD at Chick-fil-a.  Did you know I like Chicken and french fries?
Me:  Yes, I know you like chicken and french fries.  And believe me, I know you like to listen to Pisctachio.  But there were these white people...
Henry:  BUT NO ONE IS WHITE!!!  MY SKIN IS PINK!! And maybe a little brown.  And I don't get what this has to do with Veggietales.
Me:  Nothing.  It has nothing to do with Veggietales.  Except the Veggietales love Jesus and so did Martin Luther King, Jr.  So anyway, there were these pink people who did mean things to the brown people and they wanted to keep the brown people away from the pink people.
Henry:  Mommy, you are not making any sense.  Why do the pink people care about where the brown people are? Are the brown people taking the pink people's toys without asking?  Because that makes me mad when Gracie does that and she's brown and I'm pink.  But I don't do mean things to her...okay, well, sometimes I yell at her and then push her.
Me:  Henry, that's not what I'm talking about at all.  Martin Luther King day sort of has to do with sharing and all, but really I just want you to know that God used Martin Luther King to speak out against sin.
Henry:  Sin is bad.  Did you know Jesus died for my sins?
Me:  Yes.  I know that.
Henry: On the cross.  It hurt.  I think he died for the pink people and the brown people.  He loves everybody.  Even you, Mommy.
Me:  Thank you.  Sooooo....do you want to watch another Martin Luther King, Jr. speech?  Or maybe I could read this board book about him?
Henry:  No thank you.  I'd like to watch Yo Gabba Gabba.  DJ Lance is a brown guy.  And Roby is green.  And foofa is pink like me.
Me:  Yes, Henry.  She is pink.  Just. Like. You.

MLK day fail. 

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Adoption Update

Sorry for the delayed posting.  I've basically been running some type of sweat shop, crafting non-stop.  I may or may not have roped Henry into the workforce, telling him he is helping bring his little brother home.  So every afternoon when Gracie goes down for a nap he asks, "Can I help you make things to bring Charlie home?"  Mainly, he presses the power switch for the heat gun on and off.  He's a boy, so he likes buttons...

Anywhoozie, we have the interviews scheduled.  The first in a couple of weeks, and then a week full of them the week of Valentine's Day.  Babysitters are lined up!

Why the wait?

Well, remember how I talked about that stupid Minor in Posession ticket I got the first day of college?  Yeah, well, turns out it did put a chink in the chain that added time.  I had to get a clearance letter from the police saying that I did not have a criminal record.

Also, note to those who may want to adopt in the future.  If you bust your hump getting your paper work done before Christmas, realize that basically everyone on the planet takes off work between Christmas and New Year's, so there will be fewer people to process your files.  Also, since you have to get clearance from every state you've ever lived in since you were 18, maybe not move around so much.  Or marry someone who has lived in 7 different states since graduating high school.

I've been having to relearn patience.  In a big way.  I keep reminding myself that yes, waiting is a bear.  But I wait in a nice home in a country that is free.  My son waits in an orphanage in a country under the thumb of Communism.  Does he have nannies who love him?  Who take notice if his forehead is warm?  Who sing to him so he eats all of his meal that I probably can't even pronounce?  Does he have adequate medical care or is he simply one of many orphaned little boys, abandoned because when you're only allowed one child, less than perfect boys are left in stairwells and gates and hospitals in the hopes of getting it perfect the next time around?  Is he cold?  Is he too hot?  Does he know he has an older brother who prays for him every night and has even starting talking about all the trains he will "let" you play with?  I want to yell loud enough to China, "He's not an orphan!  He is my son!"

Oh, Charlie.  We wait.  We pray.  We cry.  We pray some more.  We adore you and we are one day closer. 

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

A Real Conversation

Clearly, my son is not also reading the children's version of 7.  Or making any plans to give up HFCS anytime soon...

Henry:  You know what, Mom? 
Me:  No.  What?
Henry:  I like cupcakes.
Me:  You do?  I did not know that.
Henry:  My favorite thing about cupcakes is eating them.
Me:  That makes sense. 
Henry:  They are a good food to have at parties.
Me:  Yes.  You are right.  Cupcakes are good to have at parties.
Henry:  Chocolate cupcakes are my favorite.  With chocolate icing.  But, you know, sometimes I have to eat cupcakes that aren't my favorite.  Sometimes I have to eat yellow cupcakes with white icing. 
Me:  I'm pretty sure you don't HAVE to eat the cupcakes.
Henry:  Yes I do.  If there are cupcakes there, I have to eat them.
Me:  I understand the logic, but again, you don't have to eat the yellow cupcakes if you don't want them.
Henry:  YES I DO!!! 
Me:  Okay.  Okay.  You can eat the yellow cupcakes even though they aren't your favorite.
Henry:  Wait. a. minute.  We have cupcakes?  Where are the cupcakes?
Me:  We don't have any cupcakes. 
Henry:  BUT YOU SAID I COULD EAT THE YELLOW CUPCAKES!!! 
Me:  If I let you play with your Leapad will you stop talking about the cupcakes we do not have?
Henry:  Yes!


(Fifteen minutes later, screaming, because he likes to wear headphones while he plays with his Leapad)

Henry (to no one in particular): I BET IF I ATE THREE CUPCAKES I WOULD GET SICK.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Fridge Food

Turns out, a lot of the restaurants I frequent are fast food.  I was thinking fast food would mean "No drive-thrus."  But my version of the council made a judgment that if there was no waitress, it was fast food.  Restaurants that our are typical go-tos that now don't foot the bill are McAlister's, Jimmy John's, Qdoba, Panera, and this barbeque place called "Q". So when Sloan came downstairs after a morning of work yesterday and offered to take the whole family out to get BBQ, I died a little inside.  Which tells me I am one of the four most spoiled people on the planet.  The other three being the folks who live with me.  I went to the refrigerator to look at the "fridge food" I could eat for lunch. 

For me, eating "fridge food" is something for, well, I can't really type this without feeling horrible, but "fridge food" is for other people.  Not for me.  Because typically, what is in my fridge is the following--Dora yogurts, cheese sticks, a rotting onion, a fogotten bag of salad best sold by two weeks ago, leftovers from that time I attempted from scratch chicken cordon bleu (epic fail), and a baggie of turkey pepperoni.  Oh, and six containers of reduced fat Sour Cream, because apparently I'm incapable of going to the grocery store without buying sour cream.  It's no big shock I don't find that appetizing. 

Then it occurred to me that I was, in fact, the person who purchased said products that went into the fridge.  That as an adult, I could fill that fridge up with whatever I wanted, so long as it didn't contain High Fructose Corn Syrup.  That maybe if I bought yummy things to top that bag of salad, it wouldn't have turned into brown water.  (Briefly I thought about buying an actual head of lettuce and chopping it up.  Baby steps, folks.)

I know some of you people have known about this adulthood thing for awhile.  Adulthood doesn't come naturally to me.  I'm still flabergasted that I'm old enough to have two kids, much less to have been out of high school for over 15 years.  I mean, I still count  8 am as waking up at the butt crack of dawn. Last night I slept in a Care Bears Tshirt circa 1998.

So this morning, at the grocery store, I bought real adult food.  And for lunch, I made an adult salad.  I know my friend who is doing 7 who has actually reduced her intake to 7 foods will see this as extravagant.  I see this as my way of getting Pita Delite without having to drive to Greensboro.  So glad Gracie decided to toss in a few cans of sliced black olives by surprise.  And it'd be very anti-7 to waste them...