Yesterday was the final visit from our social worker.
At least, it should be the last one.
We had to redo the paperwork for our youngest two kids' last names.
They were hoping to be able to keep their birth last names and also take both of our family names but it turns out that 3 or 4 surnames freaks the government out and we were told that they had to pick 2 at the most.
So that mean that they decided to keep their original first and middle names, incorporate their original last names as more middle names and to take on both my last name and my husband's last names as their last names.
But it works for us and it makes sense to us and it feels right.
So as an example, Buddy has gone from:
Buddy Middlename Lastname Lastname
Buddy Middlename Middlename Middlename Lastname Lastname.
Still clear as mud?
Well then, let's move on.
Now all we are waiting for will be the papers in the mail that will tell us that we are legally a family.
Till then I still have to carry the papers that say I am allowed to act as their mother but for important decisions their social worker must be contacted.
Can I just say that although I understand the rules and intellectually it makes sense etc. etc. that it makes me crazy?
Good, because I just said it.
Yondalla emailed me about a comment that I left at her wonderful blog about a really important post, this morning and as a part of it she asked me, "I understand that on your blog you don't talk about the youngers as adopted or newer, but how is the adjustment going?".
That made me think about how I do talk, on blog. or anywhere, about my two youngest children.
It is kind of weird territory for me to traverse right now.
See, they are my kids.
When I talk about my older kids, I have never spent time identifying them as my biological children, I know they are, I was there and most of the time other people don't need to know where I sourced any of them...
but then maybe they do.
We are not ashamed of adoption or foster care or any of that.
In fact we are proud of our children and where they came from and of our family.
Even more than ever before I KNOW that there is more than one amazing, magical, permanent way to have kids.
Maybe it is something I need to add into the header or the about me part of this blog to make it clearer that we have grown through adoption.
Yeah. I think I will go do that right now.
Anyway, on Mother's Day, I lit a candle at church celebrating all the mothers that my youngest, soon to be legally ours, kids have had. I think they appreciated it. I know they were relieved when I said that I was thinking about all their Moms and I expected that they were too.
Our family is one of mixed origins and I am trying to figure out how to achieve the right balance of privacy and pride about that and that has been reflected here in cyberspace - my whole life is a work in progress.
Now onto the actual question of how is the adjustment going -
Sometimes I want to just shrug my shoulders and say that I really don't know because I don't have a darn thing to compare it too.
Other times, especially the ones that have a high level of sleep deprivation - I want to clutch the shirt front of whoever is asking and tearfully shriek that it is going to HELL in a bright flashing handbasket.
Our social worker yesterday said that she was impressed with us.
Mostly I am too.
All six of us work hard to figure stuff out and to be good to each other.
I am truly in awe of my children.
Their compassion, their tenacity, their courage, their humour and their good sense.
And I am utterly humbled by them.
Last week I was talking to them about maybe, someday, adding more kids to our family. My youngest (adopted) daughter said, well, maybe we could foster babies. My oldest (bio) daughter, wrinkled her nose and said "We don't FOSTER, we adopt!".
(NO, no, no...she doesn't look down on fostering, she just identifies with adopting - which is a pretty big thing in and of itself).
Last night our youngest daughter struggled through the years of not talking about how she feels to choke out that she thinks that she shouldn't have had to have so much happen to her already.
My husband rocked her in his arms and told her that she was right. Someone who is 8years old should not have had to move so much and have so many different parents.
That my friends, right there is a miracle.
Twice yesterday she came to us to try and put words on the overwhelming feelings inside of her.
I have goosebumps writing that.
Where can I possibly go from there?
I don't deserve what I have but I'll be damned if anyone is going to take it away from me!