.Breakdown, go ahead give it to me
Breakdown, honey take me through the night,
Breakdown, go ahead give it to me,
Breakdown, it's all right...
-Tom Petty
My sister owns her own adoption agency. Isn't that cool? I'm awfully proud of her. Today we were running an errand together and I got to listen to her talking to one of her clients who was trying to get her homestudy together. La, the memories!!
If you haven't paperchased for an adoption, let me say that you have missed out on one of the great experiences in life. You get to have every nook and cranny of your life poked, prodded, and exposed by a social worker. Did you ever smoke a funny looking cigarette back in college? Have you ever posed for a mug shot? Are you a little ambivalent about your stepmother? How did you deal with infertility? Do you prefer milk or do you take your coffee black? Do you understand that babies should not be given chloroform no matter how tempting it is? How much money do you have? Do you have a will? Retirement plan? Rich relatives who are desperately eager to assume guardianship if life takes a sudden unexpected turn? Will your check bounce? (that's the only question that they truly care about, I promise)
Then you get to order all of the important documents in your life, birth, marriage, etc. and rush around to have them notarized. And then approved as authentic by the state. And then approved as authentic by the Chinese embassy. And then off they go.
The only saving grace is that you don't have to give yourself shots, or take drugs that make you fat and psychotic.
After months of paperchasing I made an appointment with the Secretary of State's representative to have all of our documents approved. It was a Friday afternoon. I ecstatically visualized the trip I was going to make to FedEx that afternoon to send off the documents.
I carefully followed all directions for every document. Earlier in the week I took our marriage certificate to the probate judge's office to have him put the seal on. The Assistant Probate Judge was in, and sealed and signed.
Friday, 3:00 PM: Roger & I rush to the office, humming happy tunes.
3:30 PM: The lady is just lovely. We're having Old Home Week. (I used to work at the State House back in college and law school). She flips to the marriage certificate. "I'm sorry!" she announces cheerfully. "Gosh, I hate to tell you this, but only the Probate Judge can seal this document."
"But...bu...."words fail me. "um, ah...the person who signed it is a Probate Judge also!"
"Sorry!" she chirps. "The only way to do it is to either take it back (30 mile round trip) or..go to the Health Department and get them to do it!"
"What time does the Health Department close?" I ask through clenched teeth.
"Honey it's ok!" she replies, "I believe they close at 5."
"Get up," I hiss viciously at my husband. "And fasten your seat belt."
I'd been paperchasing for five months. Five long, frustrating months. Ordering documents from all over the country. Memorizing the directions carefully. And I was a Woman On A Mission.
We get in the elevator. I am shaking all over, but I hold it together until we get outside.
"What's wrong with the ASSISTANT PROBATE JUDGE?" I scream at the sky. Not getting a satisfactory answer from God, or my husband, who is looking terrified, I decide that the Universe needed a good shaking up. Wait! There's a tree! And...some small rocks! And...some loose bark!
I start picking up rocks and bark and hurling them at a tree.
The stream of curse words that fly from my mouth would cause a sailor to take detailed notes.
I continue hurling bark at the tree. Finally I spin around and sprint for the car. Just like a movie, we peel off in a screech of tires. We make the health department, all the way across town, in twelve minutes. I rush in, fill out the forms, and settle down to chewing my nails, twisting my hands, stamping my foot, and glaring at the other miserable bastids who got there before me.
Got it! Back we rush.
"h...h....honey.....my husband timidly whispers,".....are you going to be ok?" translation: "are you sane enough to be my baby mama or have I just entered into some sort of Bell Jar scenario? i mean, you seemed ok when we were dating and all.....you have a job, clean up ok, sail through life with a smile most of the time...."
"I'm FINE!" I snap irritably. "Just peachy keen! I just don't see what's wrong with the ASSISTANT PROBATE JUDGE."
The documents didn't get off that day. But they left on Monday!!
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4 comments:
Oh yeah! Sweet memories! I'm on my third employment letter (attempt!). I'm so tempted to "photoshop" my last employment letter...
Lorrie, I didn't know about your sister. That's.so.cool!
Paperchasin' -- them's fightin' words!
Thank you. That almost sounds worse than my own eleven thousand year wait to have my docs authenticated via snail.
OH, the DOCUMENT MEMORIES!! Like the FBI bouncing my husband's fingerprints three times because he had a severe burn on one finger years and years ago and doesnt have a fingerprint on it. Never MIND that notarized afffadavits attesting to this fact from a doctor, sworn before a judge accompanied the print cards. Silly. Who do you think reads THAT shit?
And then there was my own criminal clearance bouncing back because I had "claimed that I had no aliases." S'cuse me? WTF?
Uh--can you say MAIDEN NAME? Who knew THAT was an alias, or more properly. "also known as"?
and then with the second son--ah, the joys of needing one last piece of paper that has to be touched by every stinkin' person in the INS office in Baltimore. And that is sitting on one desk because that person is on MATERNITY LEAVE. And no one will GO AND GET IT BECAUSE THE COW DIDNT SIGN IT BEFORE SHE LEFT. I went TO the offices, talked my way in,( I wasnt born Southern for nothin') and CRIED until the security guards let me go up, the CRIED until person B, went and got the paper from the desk of person A, the aforementioned COW, had person A's superior sign it for her, signed it himself, and then promised me that he would send it on. At which point, I burst into tears again, loudly declaming about my poor sick baby who needs medical care and NEEDS ME and all I need is the piece of paper to be signed off and I can make the arrangements and he is so little and SO sick and he needs me and I cant get to him.......
I left forty minutes later with every damn signature I needed.
sherry
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