My Second Post

By now some of you may be wondering to yourself....self, what is this guy doing??? Why is there a picture of a horselike creature and nothing else under his first post? No, it is not because I'm an idiot, as Tammy alluded to as I wrote this. Nor is it because I'm trying to imply that I may be some kind of...well, jack***. There is a story to it, but you'll have to either read my next couple of paragraphs or cheat and scroll to the end to get to it.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my lovely wife Tammy for creating what I believe has been a very interesting, amusing, and endearing blog. She has done more with this blog than I ever imagined and I commend her for her effort to keep our friends and family informed of our comings and goings. In addition, I thank her for her kind words of support in transitioning this blog into my capable hands. If you missed that, please see the "Be afraid, be very afraid." post. Tammy will occasionally post to this blog, you'll see her posts as the "redheaded chick" while my posts will be appear under SchnauzerKing, in reference to my good boy Buca!

I can't honestly say I know what is going to become of this blog. I'm not exactly the kind of guy who openly shares a lot about what I am thinking or feeling. For those of you who really know me, you're probably giving a very large *sigh* of relief! So bear with me and we'll play it one post at a time.

And finally, back to the story behind my first post. This is not a jack***. In fact, it is a mule. Now you might say...ohhhh, Tammy probably said he was as stubborn as a mule. You'd be wrong. It may be true, but she didn't say this. Really, ask her, she didn't! This is actually the description our kickboxing instructor used this past weekend to describe my incredibly powerful kicks. To paraphrase him, "He scares me when he kicks. He kicks like a mule." And so my friends, I believe I shall register my super mule kicks as lethal weapons.

For those of you who want to learn more about mules, donkeys and other horse derivatives, please see this website: mules.

Good night, and Good Luck. Live long and prosper. And my favorite: Let's live for the wonderrrrrrr of it all.

My First Post

A quick thank you...

I just wanted to thank all of you for your comments and your understanding of my decision to take my primary blogging activities private. It seems many of us are headed in that direction.

I will continue to be active in my Oct DTC and Nov DTC Yahoo groups, and I will have our referral information posted on the Autumn Dreams and 11 Moons websites.

It's been a tough week around here for a few different reasons, and your understanding has meant a lot to me.

Be afraid, be very afraid.

My darling husband will now be taking over as the primary author of this blog.
God help us!!!

Change is on the horizon

I've done a lot of thinking about the blog over the last few days. A couple of things have happened that have made me seriously re-consider whether I want a publicly available blog. I always knew that I would eventually go to a password protected blog once Isabella arrived. It is important to me that my daughter's life not become something for public consumption and commentary. But recently I've decided that the move is going to come sooner rather than later. Not because of Isabella, but because of me.

I started the blog as an outlet for me. Yes, me. That means I get to write pretty much what I want, since I am the author of the blog. Now lots of people I don't know at all read the blog. At first that didn't bother me...most were in the adoption community, and I've made some wonderful connections because of the blog. And of course, our family and friends have passed along the URL to other people that we don't know at all. I didn't think that would bother me either, but now I am not so sure.

Recently someone took offense at the description of her hometown. I intended the post, titled Hanging with the 'rents to be a complimentary post to my in-laws. It was my way of saying "Hey, I know we are really different and don't always get each other, but I really appreciate a lot of who you are. I like being one of the kids."

But alas, someone from their hometown (and Tim's hometown), a person who I have never met, got in touch with one of Tim's family members, and was like "Hey, have you read this post...". Apparently, she was not pleased with my portrayal of her hometown and many of the women in it. Fortunately, the family member took it mostly in the spirit in which it was intended, after Tim explained it to her.

Here's the thing. This is my blog, so I get to call things as I see them, which is pretty much how I am in real life. However, I realize that if you are going to have a public blog, you really can't get too bent out of shape when people leave nasty comments or get upset about what you've written, even if they don't tell you directly.

The bottom line is that I don't want to spend my time worrying about who I've upset with the blog, or reading nasty comments from someone who will only admit to being "Dr. Phyllis" (that was really gutsy of you, by the way. Sarcasm intended). I don't want to have to sanitize my words, or have my husband have to explain what I meant. People who know me get me, and hopefully they feel comfortable enough asking me for an explanation if they want one. So that's who should be reading the blog.

I am not sure what will become of The Murphy Adoption Adventure. I know Tim likes the idea of a public blog. I am starting a private one, of a different name, on Typepad. It will be password protected. I will not be giving the password out to very many people. The title will not have the word "adoption" in it, because I realize that adoption is only a small part of what I want to say. And "adoption" will only be a part of what makes Isabella who she is. I am not sure I want to maintain two blogs. I've asked Tim to consider taking on this blog. However, Tim has not decided what he wants to do. If he decides not to take over, I may only post occasionally, with a few innocuous words on how life is going. And I have a feeling that The Murphy Adoption Adventure will become a very boring blog.

So, friends, give me some time to get going on Typepad, and I'll be emailing you the password info. And to the rest of you...the ones I don't know, but who have followed along, happy trails to you! I wish you all the best.

Wanna do some good?

Most of you know Karen from GwenBlog. She has called her readers attention to Blogathon 2006, which will be held on July 29th. She is doing a guest post, and sponsoring the American Cancer Society. Her friend Doug is doing the 24 hour blogathon to raise money for Half the Sky, in order to sponsor a nanny, or even better, nannies, for the Chinese orphanages. So, if you can, open your wallets, people. To sponsor Doug and support Half the Sky's efforts, click here.

I am highly disappointed.

I got this off of a fellow waiting mom's blog. I'm in limbo. Not nerdy, but not hip. A nerd wannabe??? Come on, I teach stats and economics for a living.

Jeez. It's like being told that if you were an ice cream flavor, you'd be vanilla!

Happy 8th month LID anniversary to us!

Yahoo! And here's the big question...
HOW MANY MORE FRICKEN' MONTHS TO REFERRAL???
I was feeling very optimistic recently...now I am wavering, thinking that with the rumors that the next batch of referrals will only include LIDs up to July 13th, I better cool my jets.

Yeah, right!

So, I go to this site, which is supposed to analyze your face, and what celebrity you look like. I scanned in the following, very recent, photo of Tim and me:



And apparently we look like:

Rose McGowan:


and

ARNOLD:


When Tim reads that he supposedly looks like Arnold, I will NEVER hear the end of it!
Hopefully though, he'll take a look at Rose, and realize that this site may not be quite accurate!

Cracking Up at the Lantern Festival

This so needed its own post.
A zoom lens is a dangerous thing.

Hanging with the 'rents.

Tim's parents, that is. Royal and Karen arrived on Wednesday from Minnesota last week and left this morning. It was a really nice visit. They got to see the house we bought for the first time (along with everything that needs to be done to it)and hang with their granddogs.

Wednesday we pretty much hung out...made dinner, and watched "Failure to Launch",which wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it might be. It's cute and light. Kind of like Sarah Jessica Parker.

On Thursday, it took us a while to get going. One of the most striking differences between Tim's family and myself is that we operate at really different paces. I like to make a quick decision and get moving. Tim's family is happy to GRADUALLY make a decision and GRADUALLY get going. Also, they are not really big on taking the initiative for what they would like to do, whereas I would have already sent a list with at least 10 possibilities and the associated websites (as my brother-in-law knows). I think Tim's parents are trying to be nice, easy guests. Yet, I worry about doing things that they will enjoy. Also, a bit of New Englander pride comes out in me...I love NE, think Boston is a beautiful city, and so I want them to see all that. So, this can make things challenging. Yes, my in-laws read this blog...and I am not worried, because none of this will come as a surprise to them.

Last weekend asked them what they would like to do when they arrived and they gave us the usual response "Whatever you want to do", followed by "...Have a nice relaxing time". I know that this is my father-in-law's code for TV watching and card playing, so I scream into the phone handset, which is in Tim's hand,
"Tammy doesn't like to relax". That's not entirely true, but for the most part, relaxing for me means getting to go places and see things I don't normally have time for.

It's not easy for Royal to walk long distances, and he doesn't like musuems. They were not up for the beach. There were no movies out that they were interested in seeing. So, Thursday, at 11:15am I finally said "We are leaving in 15 minutes. I don't care where we go, but we are going SOMEWHERE". Tim's dad chose Foxwoods. So off to Foxwoods, where I try to kill time without spending any money. I really can't bear the thought of throwing away money, which is inevitable since I ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS lose. And there is something about casinos that always strikes me as sad, although I know many would disagree and many people are able to visit for occasional entertainment and then walk away. I played about $5.00 on a slot machine called "Texas Tina" in honor of my sister-in-law Tina, but "Texas Tina" did me bad. I also played the "Kenny Rogers Gambler" slot and when I left, Kenny's voice says "Thanks for playing". He really should say "Thanks for paying, sucker". As usual, Tim's mom won some money, and so she treated us to lunch. I wish I knew her secret...I've been to a casino maybe 5 times total in my life, at least three of those times with her, and she has won every single time. We all benefit from her luck and generousity. Which is good, since the rest of us all lose.

On Thursday night, my dear friend Carla came over and the five of us headed to the annual lantern festival in Forest Hills Cemetary. This was my favorite part of the day. It is the first year I attended, and it's a wonderful event. Tim and I made a lantern for our grandmothers (we each had a grandmother pass away this year), and Karen made a lantern for her sister-in-law Jan (Tim's aunt). Jan was one of these people that you feel instantly comfortable with, and her loss will always be felt. Goddamn cancer strikes again. Then we met up with friends Anne and Marty (waiting for their daughter) and Cheryl and Bruce (waiting for their daughter). It was a beautiful night...the cemetary is gorgeous, and it was very touching to see all these people making lanterns for someone and setting them afloat. I am also glad that my in-laws got to meet some of the folks we hang with. Kikalee and Sparky, we missed you!!! And finally, almost anything is more fun if Carla comes with you. I think Royal and Karen got a charge out of her, since by the end of the night Royal and Carla were flirting.



Friday, we were up and out early. Alrighty!!! We went into Boston on the T. Tim's parents are not big fans of the T; Royal starts asking when he is getting off as soon as he gets on. And I have to say admit it was as hot as hell in some of the stations on Friday. Then...whale watching. I hadn't been on a whale watch in years, and I really enjoyed it. We saw both humpback and fin whales. Then it was off to eat a late lunch at the Kingfish Hall, which is yummy. Then back home, where we watched "March of the Penguins".



Saturday was a low key day. Tim and I had our kickboxing class in the morning...that is a whole other post...I have to tell you about Emily. And my stomach. But I digress...Tim's parents watched the dogs while we were in class, and Karen weeded our garden for us. What a deal! Then to church, and a early dinner afterwards.

We left for the airport at 4:30AM on Sunday morning, and then they were gone.

Here's the thing. I am not good at family. I wish I was, but honestly, it's a little foreign to me. Tim and I grew up in polar opposite environments. I have neither spoken nor heard the words "I love you" from either of my parents in years. I am not used to the whole hanging out with the fam thing. For the most part, my parents are not interested in how I am ... they are interested in telling me how they are. Or, in the case of my dad, the last time I heard how he was doing was over three years ago. At that time, I gave him my business card with my work number and email on it, and he said "Oh, you're a professor?" And I said "Yeah...who knew?" So it's a little weird to have parents around, asking questions about our lives, taking us out to eat, taking an interest in our friends, weeding our garden, etc.

Karen met our neighbor and said "It's nice to see where the kids bought a house". And I am thinking "Kids?...Who is she talking about?" And then I realize that Tim and I are the kids...that this is how Royal and Karen see us. And as foreign as it is to me, it's kind of nice to be thought of as a kid, or even better, as someone's kid.

So, here's the thing. No, I am not a big fan of Tim's small hometown in Minnesota. I am pretty sure if I lived there I would end up playing Jack Nicholson's psycho accomplice in The Shining. There are NO coffee shops, people. Everyone looks like everyone else. Everyone knows everyone else. And our little nephew Ben thinks his tan, French grandma is African American. And no, I am not big into spray cheese in a can, golf, watching TV, handheld poker games, playing cards, pulling tabs at the VFW and the like. And no, I am not a woman that likes to chat on the phone, whose nails and toenails always match, who wears a Christmas vest every year, who drinks white zinfindahl.

But I am a woman who knows that Isabella is going to have one wonderful set of grandparents.

You know I had to do this one...

You Are a Boston Terrier Puppy

Aggressive, wild, and rambunctious. Deep down, you're just a cuddle monster.

What Breed of Puppy Are You?

Optimistic in spite of myself

OK, so I know this is dangerous, but I have started to get very hopeful that we may get a referral in November, and travel to China in January. This would be amazing. A referral for Christmas, a parental leave for the Spring 2007 semester, and I would not have to return to the university until September. Wow, wow, wow.

I said to Tim last night "We could be parents in six short months".

Wow. Wow. Wow.

I am now ready to start nursery furniture shopping again after the Boston Baby debacle.

Let the referrals roll.

Welcome to my world

Tim has recently had his first dream with his little daughter in it. At last!!!
When I told him a few months ago that I have been dreaming of a little Chinese girl that was clearly my daughter almost nightly for months, he was totally shocked.

"You have? Really?"
Looks at me quizically...

So what's going on? In lieu of a pregnancy, do we women somehow just feel something earlier? On some level, do our bodies and minds get ready earlier even though we aren't carrying children around in our uteruses? Is this just a Tim and I thing, or a more common male and female thing?

Simple Things

I've been feeling pretty out of sorts lately. I sometimes feel like that hamster on the wheel...you all know that feeling. The sense of running hard and getting nowhere. Of just not being where you want to be.

However, one of the things that I really love about our little life is our dogs. It's funny, because I had never had a dog of my own as a child. Indie (the bichon) was my first one, and within moments of having her with me, it was all over. I was utterly in love, and felt this fierce desire to take care of her no matter what. And then Tim came along, and then Buca (the schnauzer). It's a great joy to see Tim with the dogs. It makes me proud to be his wife, even if I want to hit him over the head for some other reason. And it makes me feel, on some fundamental, gut level, that Tim will be an excellent father.

This morning we intended to go to one state conservation area for a "canine stroll", but unfortunately, we couldn't find the entrance to the area, or any canines. So, we ended up at one of our old standbys. Buca has never really been in the water much, but Tim attempted to get him used to it. Indie will dip herself in to cool down. And today, after her little run in the water, she decided to rub herself all over the muddy bank. The morning activities concluded with two doggie baths.





Another nice bit in the past week has been that I finally got to talk to my friend A., the new father to whom I had sent the email, explaining my concerns about being around he and his family at the same time I was around another friend's family of four, with another biological child on the way. And he got it. Which made me thankful for him, as others who don't know me judged my feelings much more harshly. In the end, all I really care about is that Tim understands and A. understands. That is good enough for me.

So, in the midst of a lot of frustration right now with work, with the adoption process, with the seemingly endless yardwork we still have to do, and all that, I am feeling grateful...for my husband, for my dogs, for my friends.

Watching the fireworks with friends

Tim's been under a lot of stress at work, and had to work most of the day. But later in the evening, our friends Carla, Rosetta, and Mary (the woman I met on exercisefriends.com) came over and we saw some fireworks. Mary is an artist/photographer and had bought her camera along.

Somewhere between selflessness and selfishness

Wow...my "The good, the bad and the ugly" post really resonated with folks out there. I found it funny that people are cheering me on ... "take care of yourself".

I thought I should tell you how I got to this point.

A few years ago (2002), I went through a really awful time as I separated from my previous husband. Seriously, I am no stranger to tough times, but this period in my life really did me in. I felt horrible about everything I was doing, everything I wasn't doing, everything I was, and everything I wasn't. I would not wish the feelings I had on my worst enemy.

That summer, there were a lot of moments. But one in particular sticks out in my mind. I threw a small party to celebrate my new apartment. I didn't want a large party, because I was fragile enough to need the comfort of just a few close friends.
Looking back, it was a bad idea to throw this party. I had been up all night before, unable to sleep. It took me longer at the grocery store than I had anticipated, so I didn't have things ready on time. I still didn't have my apartment completely set up. I was still a mess.

Long story short, the party went on late. Around 1am, two guests, a couple, soon realize they have misplaced the woman's purse, in which she had her car keys. The gentleman does not have a back-up key. The remaining guests all search for this purse, but we can't find it. The couple try to figure out if they left their keys in their car, and end up prying open their trunk. There are no keys in the car, and the trunk, after being forced open, refuses to shut. It is now something like 2:30 am, and the search is no longer productive. The couple is distressed and they sort of just cling to each other. My other guests want to go home. I give the couple my car keys, and tell them to take my car. I am supposed to be a conference at Harvard in the morning, and then meet the man that directed my dissertation, along with his wife, for lunch, but I can take public transportation. Or have someone give me a ride. Finally, the couple leaves.

The next morning, slightly rested, I find the purse after about 15 minutes. I call the couple, who are relieved, and ask them to return my car sometime that day, and pick theirs up. No rush. However, they decide since they are planning to go to Cambridge that morning, and I am going to Cambridge for the conference, perhaps I can drive their car into Harvard Square, park it and meet them outside their church to exchange keys. Then I can go off to my conference. Of course, this means I will be late for the conference. And I point out that the trunk to the car will not close, and I will have to drive about 15 miles. They ask, "Can you tie it down?"
Oh, and also by the way, there's very little gas left in their tank, so I'll have to stop and put some gas in the car.

I say "OK, I'll do it". Big mistake.

Why did I agree? I don't know. I like these people, I want to help people out, I think "Why not?".

I go out to assess the car, but realize that of course I have no string or rope, because at this point, I have next to nothing. What I do have is blue painter's tape, since I painted the apartment immediately when I moved in. I proceed to tape the trunk down. Then I get gas. Then I realize I really don't feel like I should be on the Southeast Expressway with this car and its precarious trunk tape job.

So I take the back roads, which involves driving through Mattapan Square. If you know Boston, enough said. If you don't, let's just say that you get a good sense of how scary it might be to be a minority when you are a young, middle class, white woman driving through Mattapan Square. Of course, I've never gone into Boston this way, so I get lost. And in a huge traffic jam by the Museum of Science. Finally, I get to Harvard Square, too late for the conference session, and drive around for a while looking for a parking spot, late on a Sunday morning. Let's just say I drive around for A WHILE.

Finally, I find a really small spot, decide "this sucker's going in no matter what", and do the most impressive parking job of my entire life, something I couldn't replicate if you paid me.

I am PISSED. I get to the church on the Square, which the couple is hanging out in front of, since church service is now over. I am really emotional, fighting back tears. I hand the woman the keys, ask for mine, and I just want to GO. She sees that I am upset, asks if I am mad. I don't want to get into it. She pushes, and finally, I say "Yes, I am mad. You shouldn't have asked me to do this right now. I am late for the conference, I am about to be late for my lunch, and I am upset". She says "Tammy, you are not being fair".

Was I unfair? Probably. They asked, and I said "OK". My feeling was that they shouldn't have asked...that they should have seen that it was not a good idea to ask me for this favor. Because everyone knows I will say "yes". And that's the point...if you ask, I will say "yes".

What follows is the worst, most public argument I've ever had with a friend. We are both raising our voices. I am bawling...my entire face is streaked with tears and I can barely stand, mostly because at that point, I haven't been eating or sleeping much. People are walking by, in Harvard Square, and simply gawking. I tell her "I can't do this". She wants to win the argument, wants me to admit I am wrong, which is very much in keeping with how she can be. She is also a professor. Finally, I say "You win. I am wrong. You are right. But this is not one of your teaching moments, and I am not one of your students". And her partner says to her "Let it go, let her go".

I stumble off to Harvard Law School, to meet my dissertation advisor. They follow a respectable distance behind me, because they are good people, and are worried that I won't make it. Once they see my advisor come over to me and sit down with me, as I struggle to get it together, they leave.

My advisor helps me to calm down, and we get on the T to meet his wife. He literally holds me up on the T. We have a nice lunch...his wife is sweet and she knows she is looking at someone who needs some...work. I eat a little salad. We all hug goodbye. I would feel like a fool, except that I am lucky enough to have had a wonderful, caring person as my advisor, someone I know won't judge me unkindly.

I walk around the city for hours. Finally, I find my car in Harvard Square, get in it and start to drive the 15 miles home. I get off the highway, drive through my town and at one point, I realize that cars are driving toward me because I am driving on the wrong side of the road.

I get home around 5pm, take my prescription sleep meds, and sleep until about 9am the next morning.

And decide "Enough".

It was, in fact, a turning point. I realized that I had to take responsibility for taking care of me, because no one else could do it, even the people that loved me. It sounds melodramatic, but I realized I was either going to have to shape up, or I would eventually lose my life. I started saying "No" even when I still wanted to say "Yes", because that's what the old Tammy would have done. I started learning how to set boundaries, learning how to be very clear about what I could and could not tolerate. I started asking myself in advance of an obligation, event, or meeting "Is this what I really want to do? Is this what is really best for me right now?". And now I will say "No", even if it means someone might not understand, even if it means that someone might wish the old Tammy was still around.

In short, I think I started to learn how to be an adult. I think I realized that I will be making mistakes and learning as long as I am alive. I think I started to realize that even in that horrible time, I was a basically good person.

Today, four years after that crazy summer, I looked up the meaning of "selfless".

Main Entry: self·less
Pronunciation: 'sel-fl&s
Function: adjective
: having no concern for self : UNSELFISH

Nope, don't want to be selfless.
Then I looked up the meaning of "selfish".

Main Entry: self·ish
Pronunciation: 'sel-fish
Function: adjective
1 : concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself : seeking or concentrating on one's own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others
2 : arising from concern with one's own welfare or advantage in disregard of others

I don't want to be selfish either.

So my goal is to say on the right side of selfless and the left side of selfish. Hopefully my letter to my friend achieved that. Hopefully all of you who are struggling can achieve that too. I think we achieve it one day at a time.

Cliched? Definitely, but probably true anyway.

The MIWs have their WMD

Ok, so I stole this picture off of Sparky's blog. I had to give you a glimpse of some of my recent lifelines. This me (the one who has no teeth when she smiles), with the lovely Anne and lovely Kikalee. We are Mothers in Waiting having our Waiting Mothers Dinner, waiting for our Weapons of Mass Destruction (those would be the kids!).

These women make me feel normal even when I feel bad and ugly.

The self-defense kickboxing class that kicks our butts

Today Tim and I started a self-defense kicking boxing class. It meets for somewhere between 1.5 and 2 hours each Saturday at 10:30am. We arrive at the proper room at the Y, and see a bunch of big beefy men waiting. My instincts say "Run, Run, Run..."

Then a guy comes up to us and asks if we are here for the SDKB class. We say "yeah..." very sheepishly. He tells us that a lot of people in the class are repeaters, and soon we'll blend right in.

Yeah right.

Up until today, I was feeling pretty good about my level of fitness. Tim and I had gotten soft while in DC last year and in our first months back in MA. We joined the Y in February. We love it. And on some machines, I can now lift 100% more than I used to be able to. I still need to lose weight, but I've got some strength...I've especially seen improvement in my upper body strength, which is exactly what I am aiming for...getting ready to haul Isabella around!

So, I've been doing cardio and nautilus 2-3 times a week. I've done some pretty heavy yardwork, and a little hiking. I started a Pilates class on Tuesday and lived (even if it hurts to laugh), and today I started SDKB.

And got my ass kicked. My leg muscles were shaking. In some of the circular kicks, my range was about 1/3rd of the goal. And then we did (or in my case, didn't do), something called the iron bridge. This involves laying flat on your back, putting your hands behind your head, palms flat on the floor, fingers pointed back toward you. Now push up. Your back creates an arch, and all that supposed to be on the floor are your palms and feet. Oh yeah, and you are supposed to hold this position for a while, as the instructor counts off in CANTONESE!

Except my head never made it completely off the floor.

Then there were kicking and punching drills with a partner. Your partners holds various pads, and you kick and punch at them in a specific sequence. What fun! Kicking and punching at my spouse! I tried to motivate Tim when it was his turn by mentioning some of my endearing traits...Funny how he almost actually hit my chin a few times, which is above the padded area.

Seriously though, it was FUN. Painful, embarrassing fun, but fun nevertheless. I now know the difference between a jab and a straight.

Tim and I had a conversation recently about goals, and one of my personal goals (and something I think benefits the marriage) is to always be challenging myself with something new. I like the idea that Tim would do this as well...I always want us to be growing both as individuals and as a couple...I always want to be learning new things about myself and my husband. So this fits the bill.

If we survive. We checked to see if there was a senior citizen version of this class, but alas, there was not.