Next to the time my dad told me I needed to start wearing a bra when I was eleven, today's experience ranks as my MOST embarrassing moment!!!
August 3 is our 11-year-wedding-anniversary - on August 4th, my family has a vacation planned to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Scott and I were talking to my mom and dad and they thought it might be fun to go up a day early and stay in Idaho. Then they could meet up with the rest of the family on Thursday. We told my mom that the third was our anniversary and my mom suggested that we go up with them and they could watch Kate for us so we could have a date.
I thought that might be nice. Scott and I could go to dinner together. Kate could hang with the Grandparents. We could get two different hotel rooms or a two-room suite so we could all spread out and still have our own space. I said, "yes, let's go up a day early."
Soon after, my dad asked where we would like to stay and I told him Scott and I would look at it and let him know.
Sunday, Jeni asked if Sam could come up with us. I told her that we would be celebrating our anniversary but that mom and dad would be going up early too so she could ask them to make sure that we have space for her.
Today, Dad calls and tells me that he likes this hotel in Rexburg and we could split the cost of the room (again, I'm picturing a two-room suite). I ask about the room and he tells me that we have the choice of two queens and a hide-a-bed or one king and a hide-a-bed. I have to ask, "Is it two rooms?" He checked and he couldn't find any suites in that hotel that had two rooms. I realized that Scott and my little romantic anniversary that I had in my head wasn't being understood by my dad. I said, "Well, that's our anniversary night. I don't know if that means anything to you..." {dot, dot, dot... yada, yada, yada...}
Everything after that was just an embarrassing train wreck. My dad chuckled it off and so did I but how awkward. He asked if we wanted my mom and him to have Kate overnight and I didn't want to ask for that at that point because I was so embarrassed but that was what I had hoped. Either that or a two-room suite just for Scott, Kate, and me. I don't mind paying full price for it either.
My dad then joked that they could give us a conjugal visit and watch Kate between the hours of ... and ... and then bring Kate back. UGH! If I wasn't already embarrassed...
Now what do I do? I almost just want to stay home.
Scott - Julie - Kate
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
On to Plan C
I am in withdrawal after having my brother and sister-in-law's four girls with us for two days, one night, and one late night. They were so lovely. Their ages range from 9 months to 12-years-old.
I miss them.
Having had them here, I see more clearly how well they work together. They are one. They are a pack. They do everything together. They know each other so well... likes, dislikes, behaviors. They stick up for one another. They watch out for each other. They entertain one another. They are more tolerant, patient, and selfless because they have each other.
Now, after the pack-n-play, the fold-out beds, the high chair, and all the baby toys are put away. I can't get over the pain that Kate doesn't have what those girls have.
I'm sad that Kate is alone.
People always tell me that everything happens for a reason. What is the purpose for this experience? What good does it do Kate to go through all of her childhood alone.
Since April, Scott and I have been slowly moving through the steps to adopt through LDS Family Services. We went to the five classes, we filled out some initial forms, we asked a few people to submit letters of recommendation. We each had physicals (even Kate) clearing us for adoption. {My OBGYN even had to fill out a form listing all our "procedures" and tests and one of the questions was for him to list what percent chance we had of conceiving on our own - how can anyone really predict that anyway? My OB put "N/A". I'm glad he didn't even bother to respond. What a dumb question.} We paid a non-refundable application fee of $1,000.
Now we are on to more paperwork. I've completed my half of the 46-essay-question survey and answered some horribly personal, extremely difficult questions. Now it's Scott's turn. I think he's dragging his feet on the questions because the whole process is brutal. Why does the case worker need to know about any traumatic experiences we've had as children? Why does he need to know what our parents and siblings look like, what their likes and dislikes are, and what our relationship is with each of them? Why does he want to know how my parents disciplined me? Why does he want to know about our intimacy! What does any of this have do with anything? Look, I am an EXTREMELY open person, to a fault! But I don't want to answer these questions. Even still, I did it. I did it because I hope that God has some purpose for all this.
Yet, amidst my hope of God having some plan, I also have a more overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that maybe it's all too late. Maybe no matter what I do, Kate is just too old for a sibling to make a difference in her life.
Don't you think this question is dumb?
"Can you love and be loved by a child born to someone else?" How stupid is that? How could I know if someone else's child could love me? Tell me if my answer is too rude: "Who knows? I have nieces and nephews that I could totally raise if they were entrusted to me. I feel so close to them and it's already easy for me to adore them. Many of them are not in any way blood related to me and that gives me hope that I could love a child born to someone else. This question is kind of troublesome to me because I really don't know nor could I ever know until put in the right circumstance."
I miss them.
Having had them here, I see more clearly how well they work together. They are one. They are a pack. They do everything together. They know each other so well... likes, dislikes, behaviors. They stick up for one another. They watch out for each other. They entertain one another. They are more tolerant, patient, and selfless because they have each other.
Now, after the pack-n-play, the fold-out beds, the high chair, and all the baby toys are put away. I can't get over the pain that Kate doesn't have what those girls have.
I'm sad that Kate is alone.
People always tell me that everything happens for a reason. What is the purpose for this experience? What good does it do Kate to go through all of her childhood alone.
Since April, Scott and I have been slowly moving through the steps to adopt through LDS Family Services. We went to the five classes, we filled out some initial forms, we asked a few people to submit letters of recommendation. We each had physicals (even Kate) clearing us for adoption. {My OBGYN even had to fill out a form listing all our "procedures" and tests and one of the questions was for him to list what percent chance we had of conceiving on our own - how can anyone really predict that anyway? My OB put "N/A". I'm glad he didn't even bother to respond. What a dumb question.} We paid a non-refundable application fee of $1,000.
Now we are on to more paperwork. I've completed my half of the 46-essay-question survey and answered some horribly personal, extremely difficult questions. Now it's Scott's turn. I think he's dragging his feet on the questions because the whole process is brutal. Why does the case worker need to know about any traumatic experiences we've had as children? Why does he need to know what our parents and siblings look like, what their likes and dislikes are, and what our relationship is with each of them? Why does he want to know how my parents disciplined me? Why does he want to know about our intimacy! What does any of this have do with anything? Look, I am an EXTREMELY open person, to a fault! But I don't want to answer these questions. Even still, I did it. I did it because I hope that God has some purpose for all this.
Yet, amidst my hope of God having some plan, I also have a more overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that maybe it's all too late. Maybe no matter what I do, Kate is just too old for a sibling to make a difference in her life.
Don't you think this question is dumb?
"Can you love and be loved by a child born to someone else?" How stupid is that? How could I know if someone else's child could love me? Tell me if my answer is too rude: "Who knows? I have nieces and nephews that I could totally raise if they were entrusted to me. I feel so close to them and it's already easy for me to adore them. Many of them are not in any way blood related to me and that gives me hope that I could love a child born to someone else. This question is kind of troublesome to me because I really don't know nor could I ever know until put in the right circumstance."
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Grandpa Houtz
I love you, Grandpa, so much, so much, so much.
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