AE Housman has been my favorite poet for years. His poems speak such truth. My very favorite is "When I Was One and Twenty."

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
"Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free."
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
"The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue."
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.

Twenty-one is just a fond memory for me now. But back then I loved this poem and held it dear. To my younger self it meant that you're bound to get hurt when you open yourself up for love. Now it holds a different message. I think instead of warning people from love, Housman was instead showing the power of it. When you give your heart away, there's bound to be some heartache to follow. But what Housman's wise man didn't say is that it can be so worth it.

I did give my heart away. To a tiny little boy with golden-brown eyes and a silly little smirk. And the months waiting to bring him home have had more than their share of heartache. So I ask myself, is it worth it? The answer is a clear, resounding YES.

The whole family misses you and asks me about you often. I think Papa (Dadushka) misses you almost as much as I do. Nobody can understand why it's taking me so long to bring you back home. It's been hard and a lot things that I couldn't control have happened. But I'm still working toward adopting you. I hope, with all my heart, that you still want to be my son and to come back to America. If you don't, I'll understand. I know it's been a long time and that this has been hard for you. No matter what I'll love you always and always. But if you do still want to come to America then just hold tight. I will come for you.

You're in my heart. If you ever get sad or afraid just say a prayer and ask God to send the message to me. I'm here for you always.

I love you forever and ever,

Mama

Dear Margaret,

Upon your leaving the house each morning I will promptly climb on to the back of the couch. The cat does it, therefore I feel I am entitled to as well. Once comfortably positioned, I will stare out the window for hours. I will watch squirrels. I will bask in the sun. You, being at work, cannot stop me.

When you arrive home, you may catch a glimpse of me in the window. But I, with a grace and stealthiness heretofore unknown to bulldogs, will be off the couch before you can catch me in the act.

You may wonder what that bulldog-sized dent in the cushion is from. You may fret over the ripped fabric and protruding stuffing. You may be puzzled by the presence of crusted-over drool that reappears no matter how often you clean it. Ah yes, you may wonder... but you will have no proof that it was me. Bwaa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Until the day I slip and climb up while you're blogging. Damn it all.

Your faithful companion,

Richter

(Click the photo to see his guilty face.)

When I first learned about the summer hosting program, I inquired about it with the intention of hosting during 2006. Not because I didn't want to this summer, but because I knew I didn't have the savings to support an international adoption yet. But the program coordinator sent me pictures of the kids that still needed host parents. As soon as I saw Peanut's picture I was hooked. There was something in his eyes that called to me. And, as you know if you've been reading my blog, he and I are a perfect fit.

I've managed to come up with more of the funds than I could have imagined. I'm basically down to funding my travel costs now. So, I'm a starting a fundraiser to help me come up with the remainder of the costs. I'm selling "Flowers for Peanut" -- annual and perennial bulbs that are perfect for spring planting. Please check out the new site!

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

- Robert Frost

Ever since learning Peanut is with a foster family I've been afraid. There are just so many unknowns that increase the risk. Constantly hearing that there is no news weighs so heavily on me. But I can't give up. I won't give up.

A friend of mine is faced with a similar "path in the woods." She's choosing to take another path -- a path that's less risky and has more known quantities. She told me her decision a couple weeks ago and I still haven't responded. I feel like the worst friend in the world.

Adoption is so hard and it's such a personal thing. I know that. Her circumstances are somewhat different than mine. I know that. She and her husband are wonderful people -- I love them both. So why can't I bring myself to respond? Why can't I be supportive?

I think in some ways her decision scares me. She's incredibly intelligent, has great instincts, and I have an enormous amount of respect for her. So if she looks at the path I'm choosing and decides it's too treacherous to travel than what type of hell am I in for? Despite all odds, I still firmly believe that I will be able to bring Peanut home. But a nugget of fear remains. What if I'm choosing the wrong path?

I don't have the right to be judgmental just because my friend made a different decision. The logical part of my brain knows this, but I still can't bring myself to contact her. I feel terrible about it.

I had a friend in high school, you know the type... blonde, tall, perfect body. The kind of girl you really wanted to hate. But the girl I knew was also fun and incredibly sweet so, despite my inner jealousy, I loved her to no end. She was book-smart (in fact, she's a lawyer today) but she was, without a doubt, the ditsiest person I've ever encountered. Once while eating lunch she asked in all seriousness "If a tangerine comes from Florida, isn't it an orange?". I kid you not.

One summer I vacationed with her family (on their yacht, no less). When she and I were playing tennis at the marina an eager duck waddled up to my friend. She stuck her fingers out to the duck as if offering a bit of food. It came closer, opened its bill, and snapped down on her fingers. My friend yelled out in pain. Two seconds later she stuck her fingers out to the duck again. Snap! Ouch! And again. Snap! Ouch! Over and over... 5, 6, 7 times. Snap! Ouch! Finally, holding her red, swollen, and painful fingers in the air my friend said "What a stupid duck. When is he gonna learn I don't have any food?" I just shook my head and wondered what the duck thought of her.

Today I waited for more news on Peanut. Maybe Mrs. Chips received permission to visit him. Maybe my agency was able to get some official word on his whereabouts or availability. Something. Anything. Please. But again, there was no news.

I'm starting to think that I'm a lot like my friend. And the adoption process? Well, it's just one great big duck.

Bethany's birthday retrospective (Happy Birthday, BLJ!) made me remember my infamous 12-year plan.

When I was 17 and a senior in high school I made a list of all the things I wanted to accomplish before I turned 30. I dug out the list tonight -- a slightly crumpled piece of paper that has been demoted over the years from my trapper keeper, to a filing cabinet, and finally to the dusty depths of a tattered cardboard box. When I was in my 20s and starting to notice the items on this list were not getting checked off I felt badly. A bit like a failure -- someone who was unable to realize my dreams. Now, however, I can look on it with a bit of love for the girl that I was and respect for the woman I have become despite changing my goals along the way.

I didn't go to large state university as I had hoped. When I didn't get accepted, I was crestfallen. Instead I went to smaller school without the big name or reputation. There, I met an amazing group of friends, learned major lessons in diversity, and was given real life opportunities that I may never have received otherwise.

I never moved out of state, or better yet, out of country for a few years like I had planned. (Though I did try for a job transfer to Australia once!) But I held a job that required lots of travel for a while. I've been in 37 different states. I visited cities so small the billboard as you entered the town says "Population: Just Plain Good Folks." And I've battled subway stations and highway traffic in our country's biggest cities. I've seen more than I had even planned for myself and I'm richer for it.

I'm single, which goes completely against my plans for marrying the perfect blend of John, Jeff, and Jamie (three guys that were pretty important to my 17-year old self). I never would have aimed to have my heart miserably broken. I never would have expected to do something so horrible as cheat on a boyfriend. I never would have wanted to break any hearts myself. But I've done all three things -- some multiple times. And I've learned and grown with each experience.

I don't have two kids with plans for two more. And I know the teenager in me is surprised that I'm adopting a child from Russia. It may not be the path I expected to take, but the end result is the same. I will be a mother.

At 17 I thought I knew it all. I thought I knew what was right for me and my life. Now at 33, if there's one thing I know, it's that I don't know it all. But so far, though it's taken turns I couldn't have ever expected, life's been pretty good. I can't wait to turn the next page.

What things in your life turned out different (better or worse) than you might have expected back when you were a teenager?

This is a TV.














This is Margaret's bed.















This is Margaret's bedroom with a TV.















Why is this blog-worthy you ask? Because I'm an insomniac. I have two methods of sleeping -- poorly or not at all. My only saving grace is the TV. The noise allows me to turn off my brain, quiet the worry, and calm the stress enough to actually catch some zzz's. And since I haven't had a TV up in my room, I've slept on the couch virtually every night since Peanut left last August. And, on an adoption budget, a second TV just wasn't happening. But, thanks to my parents' hand-me-down I can now sleep in my bedroom. I'm inordinately excited about it!

p.s. Please no comments about my ugly bright blue carpet and lack of any real bedroom furniture. I'm adopting, therefore I'm poor.

A daredevil. He loved to ride his bike, but was new to the two-wheel concept, so he relied on his training wheels a lot at first. Soon after learning to ride he became the Russian Evil Knieval. Once while he was riding in front of the house I called to him from my bedroom window. Excited he said "Mama, s'matri!" (Watch me) He raised his hands in the air, put his feet on the bar and took a flying leap off the bike. My heart dropped, but he was proud.

A cuddlebug. In the evenings when we were watching Spy Kids for 100,000th time I'd lay on the couch and he'd crawl right up with me so I could tickle his back. I can't tell you how many times he'd reach his hand up to touch my cheek and quietly say "Ya loublue tebya" (I love you). With the smallest gestures he could melt my heart.

An artist. When he first arrived he found the small magnetic drawing board I had bought for him in the car. He drew a car that looked like mine -- with wheel spokes and everything. He loved to draw and paint and, I might be biased, but I think he was really good at it.

An athlete. He loved every sport we tried, but soccer is his thing. One night I brought him to the high school girls' goalie practice. He was so good that he gave the girls a run for their money. I swear he's the love-child of Cobi Jones and the Energizer bunny.

A comedian. He would do anything to make you laugh. Every time he did something goofy I'd laugh and say "That's my boy!" Apparently he thought that meant "How funny" or something of that sort. Once he was with my sister and hid in her garage so he jump out and startle her. After jumping out he exclaimed "That's my boy!"

A giver. He's generous and kind, qualities you wouldn't think would develop in an orphanage. He loved having things he could give to others. Once we spent a great day at my friend K's house boating and hanging out. When we were leaving he gave K a book, gave my sunglasses to K's husband, and a used-up disposable camera to their son. Not the nicest gifts in the world, but they were precious to him.

Perfect in my eyes. I could list his attributes for hours, but what it all boils down to is that he is the child of my heart. He's left an indelible mark on my soul and I have to bring him home. I miss him always, but some days are harder than others. Today, I ache for the sound of my boy's voice. I crave his laughter and sweet hugs. With every fiber of my being I want to look in beautiful golden-brown eyes and tell him that I love him.

I just watched the movie Rent. I've never been able to catch the stage play, so I was excited to watch the movie. It just resonated with me and I can't get the lyrics out of my mind. The song "Seasons of Love" really made me reflect on the last year of my life.

525,600 minutes,
525,000 moments so dear.
525,600 minutes --
how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets,
in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles,
in laughter, in strife.
In 525,600 minutes --
how do you measure a year in the life?

My life has taken a major turn in the past year. Last March I was in a pretty serious relationship that was on it's last legs. I spent so much energy trying to prod Mr. Inertia into following through with the things he said he wanted for himself and for us that I was blind to the fact that he didn't really want them at all. If you had asked me last year about my time with Mr. Inertia, I would have said they were all wasted minutes.

In retrospect, while our break up was hurtful and knocked me to my core, it was the impetus for my meeting Peanut. After spending more than a year in limbo with Mr. Inertia I was craving action. I liked the sound of the host program, so I jumped at the chance. And I'm so glad I did.

I spent 50,400 minutes with Peanut this summer. Some of those minutes were trying, frustrating, and troubling. But even the hard times were worth it and they were balanced by the most complete and true love I've ever felt for anyone. Those 50,400 minutes were the best of my life. They're precious.

During this year's 525,600 minutes, I've spent more time worrying, crying, being confused and frustrated than ever before. And, as everyone else who is adopting knows, we're all playing the biggest game of risk we've ever played. At times, this adoption process brings me to my knees. But every time I find my way to feet again I know that I'm stronger and wiser than I was before. As hard as this year has been, my minutes have been meaningful. While I would rather have Peanut here with me, any time given to the pursuit of his adoption is time well spent.

Today I had to rush and get two more documents ready for my dossier. (I had a few moments of annoyance about that. After all, my dossier was completed and sent to Russia on October 24. Wasn't there any other time BEFORE now that these could have been done?) But, all annoyance aside, these were pretty exciting documents to write and put together.

The first was my official request to waive the first trip based on the fact that I hosted and formed a relationship with Peanut. After writing it I sprinkled it with fairy dust, and danced around it chanting for a while. It's just gotta work! Peanut's region has waived the first trip for host families in the past, so I'm pretty hopeful about it.

The second document was my petition to the court requesting to adopt Peanut. It felt good to work on documents that are specific to Peanut -- not just "a child of either gender ages 8-11" or similarly vague verbiage. My court petition even includes the name I want to give him. I had a moment of pause about this, because my intention was to talk to Peanut about his name change first. But, I'm not going to get that opportunity. I'd be more worried if I were changing his first name, but I'm not. I'm keeping his first name, giving him my dad's name for a middle name, and (of course) my last name. Seeing that on a paper bound for Russia was plainly and simply cool.

What are all of you planning to do with your child's name? Change it completely? Keep a part of it? Wait and see what it is and if you can pronounce it?

If there was such a word, "procrastinactionator" would describe me well. Tasks that I'm not particularly thrilled about can be put off nearly forever in my world. (e.g. I started cleaning my walk-in closet about a month ago. It's still only partially completed.) But when I want something done, or something truly needs to be done I don't hestitate. Get to steppin! Don't talk about it, discuss it, hem and haw over the possibilities -- just DO IT.

So the action side of my procrastinactionator personality is in agony right now, because my dossier is still not filed with the MOE. I'm tapping my toes, biting my nails, and pulling out my hair. At the end of this process I'm going to look like the remnants of a Thanksgiving turkey.

It turns out that not only is Peanut with another family, he's crossed a border of some sort (my coordinator didn't know the right word in English for it, so she called it a subdivision). This complicates things because they don't really know what papers need to filed where, or something like that. R.R. was advised to get a consultation with the judge to determine the best way to handle Peanut's case. Great. Like this adoption process wasn't complicated enough.

The hope is that R.R. will get a meeting on Monday or Tuesday and the judge will immediately recommend a course of action. The other possibility (not gonna happen, not gonna happen, not gonna happen) is that it could take a while to get a meeting with the judge and/or the judge may want to inquire about Peanut's case further before giving a recommendation. That's a big long sentence just to say I may be looking at a further delay. I think I'm going to petition for the word "delay" to be removed from the vernacular.

Knowing that my agency is finally reaccredited has really put some wind back in my sails. Today I got a little carried away and made a list of the items I'd like to bring to Russia. Anticipatory? Definitely! Over-anxious? Sure. A bit nuts? Mmm... maybe. But then I tipped the scales way over to the crazy side by "practicing" packing. I kid you not. I worked on this for about 30 minutes before the ridiculousness of it dawned on me. Keep in mind it's still going to be a couple of months (at least) before I travel.

Peanut's suitcase.

I can actually get all of his clothes in there. But I had hoped to also pack his toys and backpack IN the suitcase. I'm not really looking forward to carrying a Batman backpack around.

My suitcase

Looks like I have room to spare, doesn't it? But I haven't packed shoes, laundry detergent, camera, hair dryer, etc, etc, etc.

My goal was to pack a carry-on sized piece of luggage for me and one for Peanut. That, my friends, may be the craziest thing of all.

p.s. In my non-crazy moments, I'm praying for you, Liv.

Are you standing up? Do you have your dancing shoes on? Do you have Gloria Gaynor blaring from the stereo? You should! Because it's time to do the accreditation dance!!! My agency picked up their accreditation certificate today. I'm so happy!!! (Apparently, I'm a three-exclamation-point kind of happy!!!)

I've actually known about this for a while, but my "cautious by nature" agency wanted to wait until they had the certificate in hand to announce it. The secret became a bit silly as someone spilled the beans on a chat room and the MOE posted it on their website. But, it's nice to know that as I post this, my agency's accreditation is 100% official.

And, I'm thrilled that Lisa's, Rhonda's, and Jen's agencies were all reaccredited in the same batch as mine. It's a bit of serendipity that somehow makes it all the more special.

So what exactly does this mean? Now that my agency has their current accreditation certificate things will move full-steam ahead. As I understand it, this is what will happen for Peanut and I in the next couple of weeks:

• My agency's main rep in Russia will send copies of the the certificate to all of the regional representatives.
• My region's rep (who from now I'm going to call R.R.) will bring my dossier to the MOE once she receives the certificate copy. I will be officially registered as a prospective adoptive parent for Peanut. (Yay!)
• At the same time, R.R. will officially request information on Peanut's whereabouts and availability for adoption. My agency doesn't want to speculate on the result of this request. It's kind of uncharted territory for them.
• Then, when (not if) I find out Peanut is available, the process will really be underway. Letters releasing him from the databank of waiting children, court date, Peanut's medicals and dossier... the whole 9 yards.

Lauri has a certain psychic ability when it comes to holidays and adoption milestones. She's guessing Easter for me and Peanut. That's an ambitious prediction that I hope comes true.

The news Mrs. Chips brought back from the orphanage the other day was undeniably good. But, I have to admit, it really brought me down that I wasn't able to get word to Peanut. I miss him so much, so I was really hoping to hear that he was OK. But, Bethany and I went for a girl's night yesterday which is always a good thing. And, I've had a couple of days to let it all sink in. So, with a fresh set of eyes and a reinvigorated spirit, I'm looking forward to what's ahead.

I found this picture of Lake Baikal a while ago. I don't know if the photo is a sunrise or a sunset, but I'm opting to believe the former. I just love this photo... it somehow captures my feelings about adoption in print. It's a new beginning and it just exudes promise. The fact that it's of a lake in Siberia makes it all the more perfect.

I make landscape quilts as a hobby. Basically, I take a photo or other image and reproduce it with tiny little pieces of fabric. I have yet to make a landscape quilt for me. So, I ordered this hand-dyed fabric for the background and I'm going to start my "Sunrise" piece. It's going to be my tribute to Peanut. Hang in there kiddo, our days together will be starting soon.

Mrs. Chips visited Peanut's orphanage today. 10 of the 13 kids that came here last summer were there. They were confused -- wondering why she hadn't visited and why they stopped hearing from their American families. Mrs. Chips explained that we had been told they were all gone.

The kids told her that their orphanage director had a meeting with them and told them that they wouldn't be able to come to America because the Russian president didn't want any more international adoptions. Mrs. Chips told our kids that this was untrue. While I'm not surprised that our children have been lied to by their orphanage director, I'm still confused by it and so, so upset. I know the orphanage director cares about the children very much. She has proven that. But to lie to them and hurt them in a misguided attempt to protect them is beyond all reasoning. She is wrong. There are no other words for it. She is wrong.

The children were glad to receive the letters from us, and Mrs. Chips had them write letters in return. The kids still want to come to America. Against all odds and in spite of everything they have heard, our kids still love us. It's a testament to the power and strength of a family's love.

Three of our kids were not in the orphanage. One has returned to his birthmother whose rights were reinstated. Two are together in a patr*nat family. Peanut is one of those two. So, my boy didn't receive my note today. My hope is that Peanut still -- against all odds and in spite of everything he's heard -- believes in me. We are family. Our love was strong. I know that I feel it every minute of every day. I hope that he does, too.

Mrs. Chips is going to try to get permission to contact Peanut and the other boy who are with another family. I'm praying that she will be able to get permission to do so soon.

In the meantime, I'm thanking God for Mrs. Chips. I'm anxious to hear what the other 10 kids have to say. And I'm so happy for my fellow host parents that were able to get word and truth to their children today.