When I was in high school I had an English teacher like no other. She was old when the school opened -- by the time I got there she was ancient. She used to say she'd never leave that school until they carried her out on a stretcher. Well, they did -- twice -- yet she still didn't retire. I'll never forget her hands, gnarled with arthritis, patting me on the head when I did well on an assignment. The time she locked herself in a bathroom stall was legendary and everyone snickered with guilty laughter when she fell off the chair behind her desk. At least twenty times per class period she would reach a hand into the depths of her shirt to retrieve a fallen bra strap; and the copious amounts of dry boogers that would dangle off the end of her nose astonish me still. But she was smart. She was tough. She believed in her students. I didn't appreciate her when I was in high school, but it didn't take me long to realize her true worth.

She made us explicate Shakespeare word by painful word. Oh, how I hated those lessons! It was a complete surprise when I studied Shakespeare in college and discovered that I enjoyed it. Now, in light of everything that's happening and the convenient correlation of the infamous Plan B with Hamlet's famous speech, she and her beloved Shakespeare are on my mind.




I found out today that, for me, the answer is "not to B." I'm officially not included in the group of families that will benefit from Plan B... ay, there's the rub. My agency gave lots of reasons, which I logically understand, but emotionally I'm devastated. Today also marked the start of rumors about at least two agencies getting reaccredited (which is great). My agency, however, has heard nothing lately about accreditation. I feel like the ship is leaving without me.

If it weren't for knowing and loving Peanut like I do, I'd probably have given up by now. In some ways it's downright crazy to let myself continue suffering the slings and arrows of Russian adoption. The only thing keeping me going is Peanut. He's my son and I've made a promise to him. Plus, I hold hope that when all is said and done none of this struggle will matter anymore and Peanut and I will just be family. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.

I know the reward will be worth it. But right now I'm just sad and I feel about 10 years older than my age. I'm tired of worrying. I spend my days searching for actual facts -- something true, real, and applicable to my situation. Most of the time I'm able to keep my mood up and stay somewhat positive, but then a day like today happens, my mind starts spinning, and my native hue of resolution is sickled over with the pale cast of thought.

But tomorrow is a new day. Maybe the couple reaccreditations that were processed indicate that ALL the remaining agencies will soon be processed; not that they're only processing a small batch like they did in September. So... soft you now, Margaret. Time to stop complaining.