Peanut is the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on. He has this intensity to him -- everything he does is big. He laughs big -- from the bottom of his belly. He loved me with ferocity. He dove into learning headfirst -- as we read books before bedtime each night I would teach him the Arabic letters and how to read some words in English. With each new word... zoo, bus, car... he would raise his arms and cheer "hoorah!" He reacts big -- at camp when he felt angry or hurt he would lash out and punch. While I never condoned hitting and anger management was something I planned to work on with him, I respected this quality of his. He didn't know how to hem and haw and second-guess himself. He trusted his instincts and acted. He was silly and goofy and could find something funny in every situation.

I learned so much from my kiddo. He taught me the power of a mother's love. And I will always, always love him as my son. He taught me the true meaning of forgive and forget. One weekend, with my broken Russian, I told him that we were going to get him a bike the next day. He must have believed it would be next to his bed in the morning, because he was disappointed from the moment he woke up. We had plenty of people to see in the morning and a Kidsave group activity in the afternoon and he just pouted more and more. He was so angry with me. But when we cleared it up and he understood he hugged me and all was forgiven.

Peanut brought so much joy to my home and my heart. My world was complete with him in it. As hard as these past months have been, it was all worth it knowing I was going to bring him home. Now, I'm floundering. I feel as if I've spent months on a raft that was rocking wildly in the waves -- but I was always tethered to shore. Now my tie has been cut loose and I feel lost. If I'm not Peanut's mom, who am I?

He's everywhere in my home, everywhere in my town. His presence is palpable. I don't just mean his pictures, toys, or belongings. The memory of him and everything we did is alive. Hopefully that will become a comfort, but right now it's cloying. There's my living room floor where I envision him playing ninja or imitating the somersault Willie Wonka did. My backyard where we spent hours playing soccer and catch. The stores where we'd walk to and he beg me for treats. The little nooks and crannies of my home where he'd hide random things like the keys to my neighbor's house. My loveseat where we'd play cards and he'd cheat -- I'd call him "Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater" and he'd laugh and laugh.

He's everywhere and I miss him so much it hurts.

I know many of you have been waiting with me for real, concrete news about Peanut. Today I got some news -- unfortunately it wasn't what I wanted to hear.

Peanut and another boy that came here last summer are living with a single woman and they are happy. While she hasn't adopted them yet, she intends for it to be permanent and she loves the boys. So I'm not going to be able to adopt Peanut.

I'm devastated but I can also see that this is not an entirely bad situation. My boy has found himself a good home with a mother who loves him -- and that is what I have wanted for him all along. It breaks my heart that I'm not going to be the one to provide that, but his happiness is more important.

On top of that his new mom can give him things I cannot. He has a brother now -- a brother that I know and care for. Plus, his mom is a teacher and Peanut loves learning with a passion -- he takes joy in it and is so smart. I was worried about how he would handle the difficulty of school when he doesn't speak the language. Now, he's staying in Russia with a woman who will foster his love for education. I just know she'll help him become something wonderful. He has every potential in the world and deserves nothing but the best.

I've gone through every emotion known to man today. I'm stunned to the core -- even though I've known this was a possibility I just really believed he was going to come home. I'm angry at all the things that could have been handled differently. I'm confused as to why, if this was God's plan for Peanut, why did he continue to let me struggle for the past five months? I'm just trying to hang on and remember that with most things in life, the reasons become clear with time and perspective. I've even spent time today wondering what's next. Lisa and Kim, your stories have inspired me today because I know that there is still a child out there for me.

For now I just need to take time to heal. And I don't even know how to start doing that.

One year ago today my relationship with Mr. Inertia ended.

We had started dating in early 2004. I'd known him my whole life, but hadn't seen him in about 10 years. Then, one day in the waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit we ran into each other. I thought it was a funny way to meet at the time... now I think it was an omen. Because that's what our relationship needed -- intensive care.

Somehow during our relationship I convinced myself that he was the right guy. (Pause while Margaret stares at the computer screen in puzzlement over her own idiocy.) Signs that he was, in fact, not right include:

10.) He liked kiddie cartoons.

9.) He dyed his own hair and it came out orange.

8.) He would pass gas and blame it on my dog.

7.) He had a joint bank account with his mother.

6.) He lived with his parents until he was 28.

5.) He always paused to see if I would pay when we went out, and then he always let me.

4.) He told really bad jokes and would retell them when I didn't laugh.

3.) He talked about his "friends" but I never met any of them...

2.) He bought me a bottle of Boone's Farm for Valentine's Day.

1.) He didn't get Napolean Dynamite.

I can't believe that it's only been a year since I was cut loose from that piece of dead weight. It feels like so much longer -- and I mean that in a good way. Even though this adoption wait has been difficult (to say the least), I'm so much happier with the direction my life is heading now.

When my time in limbo with Mr. Inertia ended I dove headfirst into adoption. I made an appointment with an adoption attorney, and he recommended I join FRUA. My first FRUA newsletter had information about the Kidsave Summer Miracles program. I called, intending to inquire about hosting the next year, and soon saw Peanut's picture. I was hooked.

It's a chain of events that I couldn't have planned. But as sad as I felt one year ago today, it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I've learned that I deserve more in a relationship and I won't settle ever again. I've met the boy that is going to be my son -- and he's the most important person in the world to me.

It's been one year since I've been free of Mr. Inertia. I don't miss the bad jokes at all.

As you know, I'm waiting to hear if Peanut is still available for international adoption. Most likely I'll find out this week. In the meantime, I'm handling the anxiety in increasingly ouchy ways.

• I started out the past week not sleeping -- when I am sleeping I'm having nightmares. Freaky, weird, how-the-hell-did-that-come-out-of-my-brain nightmares.
• By Wednesday I had progressed to headaches. The kind where my computer screen starts swimming and light to my eyes is the equivalent of cryptonite to Superman.
• At the end of the work day on Thursday I realized I had been chewing on my lip all day. Apparently my binge eating has gotten so out of control that I've gone cannibal on myself.
• All week long I've been dealing with a resurgance of my teen years. Let's just say that benzoyl peroxide has become my constant companion.

If anxiety has to have a physical manifestation, why can't it be smooth, glossy hair or great skin? If we have to deal with stress we should be appropriately compensated.

"It will be there when you get home." A little blue sticky note lives on my monitor at work constantly reminding me, "It will be there when you get home."

See I have this little problem. I love my job. Sure it has it's ups and downs just any other, but for the most part -- I've got a great job. Since I've been embroiled in this adoption process I've been a less than stellar employee. I try my best, I really do, and I'm getting somewhat better. But checking blogs and news sites is just so tempting.

I've talked to my boss about it and his question to me is always "Is there anything you can control while you're here?" Usually the answer to that is no. I don't mind (and I know bossman doesn't mind) if I have to call my agency or actually take of some business. But idle internet searching isn't so cool.

Yesterday my boss surprised the whole staff by buying us exercise equipment. It's such a cool little thing -- I can do tons of different exercises on this thing. Seriously, how cool is my boss? (And no, he doesn't read this blog... I'm not sucking up.) I've tried almost every exercise on it and love it.
The only thing I haven't figured out is how it gives you a tan. My pasty white Irish skin could use that!

After getting home from work and using my new equipment, I felt guilty. Normally the guilt comes when my exercise equipment or tapes start to gather dust -- not when I'm actively using them. I think I felt guilty today because my boss gave me a gift, and I know that I haven't given him my all lately.

So this is me turning over a new leaf. Adoption be damned, I'm going to try hard to be more like myself. That's what my new exercise equipment is giving me -- toned arms, an inexplicable tan, and focus.

"Ooooooohk - ah, ah, ow..."
Crack! (The sound of me knocking my jaw into place.)
"Sorry about that."
"...lahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain."

Christmas came and I was a wreck. I was angry and bitter and generally an unpleasant person to be around. I wanted him there with me and I was determined to not enjoy the holiday without him. The next day I thought over my actions on Christmas, realized I was acting like a petulant child, and promptly called my parents and my sisters and apologized.

Today I'm missing him as always, but I'm excited about what Easter will bring next year. Peanut loved hiding things -- I found the keys to my neighbor's house in my bathroom cabinet, action figures in my mixing bowls, and an old picture of me tucked in between the fitted sheet and mattress in his room. He will love this holiday (other than church, which he doesn't love yet). I spent time this morning just sitting on my couch imagining the places I could hide eggs with clues to the whereabouts of his basket.

I had a blessed childhood. My parents, dad especially, worked hard to make every holiday special. Easter was always fun. I had this HUGE basket that held an enormous amount of candy. The bounty was quickly depleted, though, because all the goose eggs (marshmallow eggs) went to my dad, I had to make baskets and share my candy with the girls who lived across the street, and, being the youngest-by-far of five kids, my siblings all took their unfair share of my basket. I'll never forget the year I still couldn't find my basket after hours and hours of searching. I finally found it Easter evening inside the clothes dryer in the basement. My mom was started to worry that she wouldn't be able to do laundry on Monday!

I'm so looking forward to the traditions and holidays I'm going to share with Peanut. So happy Easter, kiddo, wherever you are. I'm sending you hugs and all of my love.

I've spent an awful lot of time lately focusing on the "cons" of this adoption. The process has taken it's toll on me: I've had some grey hairs since I was 18, but now they're starting to take over and that little line on my forehead has officially become a wrinkle. More than that, I'm so sensitive now that it doesn't take much to upset me. So tonight I'm going to focus on the positive.

The Pros:

• I'm hoping for a mid- to late-June court date. That means I'll have Peanut home before his 9th birthday in July.
• Peanut will have a few months to adjust before starting school. He's a good student, so I've been worried about how he'll do with the language barrier. Not doing well will frustrate and upset him. Over the summer I'll be able to work with him and help his English develop a bit before school.
• I won't have to travel to Siberia in the winter.
• Lighter clothes = Margaret being able to pack more.
• The delays have given me more time to come up with the money.
• In summer, everything here will be familiar for him which will help him adjust.

So it's not all bad. I'm really pinning my hope on June, which is potentially setting myself up for disappointment again. But I have to have something to aim for. Another summer with Peanut is a good thing to look forward to.

I keep telling myself that I'll feel better when "X" happens. But I never do.

For a long, long time accreditation was the sweet elixir that would solve all my worries. Accreditation happened in early March: I was ecstatic, over-the-moon! But satisfied? No way.

The next step was getting my dossier filed. That happened last Monday: I was relieved, excited. But satisfied? Not a chance.

The next hurdle is finding out if Peanut is officially available for adoption. I was hoping to get news this week. Unfortunately, I learned today that the MOE takes about 10 days to review dossiers. Until my regional representative has been notified that my dossier has been reviewed there's not a lot they can do. Don't ask me why, because I don't know. I could have asked my coordinator more questions today, but I was so disappointed and unpleasantly surprised I was stunned into silence.

So I'm waiting again. And the sad truth of it all is when I learn that Peanut is available for adoption (because I won't entertain the alternative right now) I know that I won't be satisfied. I'll just be impatient and anxious for the next step. I don't think I'll be satisfied until he's home trying new tricks on his bike, cheating at cards, and begging me to rub his back while he watches Spongebob.

Dear China Adoption Bloggers,

You are cordially invited to take away my ladybugs.

You see, every ladybug within a 20-mile radius has decided to congregate on my dining room window. There are the reliable, responsible ladybugs that are there every morning carrying their tiny cafe au laits and briefcases. Then, there's ladybug rush hour in the afternoon when they're all scattering about getting their errands done. There's even a few rebels who have little ladybug raves into the wee hours of the morning.

I'm adopting from Russia therefore I have no belief in ladybugs being harbingers of good luck. Outside they serve a purpose and are pretty little eaters of aphids, but in my dining room they're just plain gross. So, please. Please come take them. I'll even gift wrap.

Kind regards,

Margaret

p.s. This invitation is only semi-open. All China adoption bloggers are welcome as they've been screened by USCIS and are not ax murderers. But to those of you that arrive at my site through really really strange searches, stay away. And Mr. Searching for "can I put my hands in your pants" -- the answer is no, no you cannot.

Well, I'm somebody as far as the MOE is concerned anyway, because today my dossier was officially registered.

Get ready...

Plug your ears...

Here it comes...

WOOOOOOHOOO!

So my dossier is filed. What does this mean exactly?

1) I am finally, officially, listed on paper as someone who is interested in adopting Peanut. Up until now I was a nobody (legally speaking).

2) My agency now has more freedom to inquire about Peanut -- his whereabouts, his availability for adoption, and if I can contact him in some way.

3) Once it's determined that he is available for adoption, Peanut's dossier will be created and, when it's complete, I'll be assigned a court date.

Of course, this is the world of adoption. If the moon is full and the rooster crows at midnight and someone wears a striped shirt with plaid pants the whole thing could fall apart. It's, as always, frightening. But I'm getting quite skilled at balancing on adoption's tightrope... I'm ready to make that treacherous walk to the other side. Call it hope, faith, or sheer delusion -- I just feel that everything is going to work out in the end.

So, hang on Peanut! Mama's coming soon.

I've had a general lack of bloggy inspiration lately. So, for your reading enjoyment, here's a story about Peanut.

On his first day here I helped Peanut pick out his clothes for the day -- jean shorts and a maroon t-shirt with a cool eagle on it. But he swiftly rejected the little boy tighty whities I had purchased. Luckily he brought three pairs of boxer shorts with him from Russia. So I placed a clean pair out and went to leave the room to give him privacy. I don't know if he was nervous or what but he called me back in his room right away. Without changing his boxer shorts, he put on the shorts and shirt. Being his first day here, I decided to let it slide.

Fast forward to the next morning and repeat the same story. He was now on day three in the same boxer shorts. Later that day I took him to goalie practice for the high school girls' soccer team (my bro-in-law is the coach). He wore himself out playing soccer. He was kicking balls at the goalies that they couldn't stop. And, when my brother-in-law made him stop for a bit, Peanut was running up and down the field with my 17-year old nephew. By the time we left, Peanut was dripping sweat and grinning from ear-to-ear.

I decided a bath was in order but was nervous about how he would react. For one thing, at some orphanages bath time is traumatic. And for another, I'm sans-daddy and wasn't sure how we were going to handle bath time. Luckily he was thrilled with the idea of a bath. And the bath toys my sister bought for him were a hit. When it came time to climb in the tub he just crawled in... with his boxers still on. I figured it was a good solution to the privacy issue and it was also a good way to get him to change his shorts. Or so I thought.

Dripping wet he emerged from the tub and was enthralled with my bath sheets. But when I presented him with dry, clean boxer shorts he emphatically refused. I left the room so he could change and he yelled for me to come back. "Mama, oodiseeda poshaloosta!" Peanut went to bed in wet boxers that night.

The next morning, still wearing the boxer shorts which were starting to smell, I called another host family whose son, A, was adopted from Kazakhstan two years prior. I explained the boxer debacle to A and asked him to talk to Peanut for me. I watched Peanut while he talked to A on the phone and his body language was priceless. He stiffened up and shrunk back into the couch sending the occasional angry look my way. When he handed the phone back to me, A explained that Peanut knew what I wanted him to do and he didn't care. A said that I have to understand that at the orphanage nobody cares what the kids do, and Peanut wasn't used to having someone care about something so trivial as boxer shorts.

For the first week, Peanut wore those boxers constantly -- even under his swim suit. I was convinced that I was a terrible parent. But we finally found a solution. He would wear the boxers for one day and change them after he went swimming at day camp. He still wore boxers when taking a bath, but, giggling all the while, would change in to dry ones while I held the bath sheet around him and looked the other way.

I forgot to send one pair of his boxers back with him and I'm glad. Because the never-ending boxer shorts taught me a parenting lesson. Peanut may not do exactly what I want him to do when I want him to do it. But if I give him time and opportunity he'll find his way.

When I was 4 or 5 Santa brought me a beautiful little doll in a pink frilly dress. She was lying in a tomato basket my mom had covered in fabric and decorated with ribbon and lace. Despite the feminine touches I named the doll "Baby Jesus." (My sister later told me Baby Jesus was retarded and made me cry. My very, very Catholic parents were horrified.)

In high school I dreamed of one day being a mother. I thought of names for my future children... maybe Taryn with a "y" or Sorrel after a character from my favorite children's book.

In my late 20s many of friends had children. While I had always wanted kids I was formerly fine with motherhood being a future endeavor. But at 27 my uterus skipped a beat. I was in full-fledged baby trauma. I remember my friend and co-worker, Ginny, coming to the office with her new baby boy. She had gone through years of baby trauma so she understood when I hesitated to hold her son. I wasn't afraid of holding him. I was afraid of what I would feel. She placed him in my arms and sat silently next to me for 45 minutes while I cried in my cubicle. That was the day when the dream of being a mother became a mission for me.

At 30 I finally started to accept that marriage may not happen. So the first thoughts of a Plan B started to emerge. After months of research and soul-searching adoption became less of an alternative and more of a choice for me. It's the way I want to form my family. My relationship with Mr. Inertia put my plans on hold for a while, but last summer I learned about the hosting program and subsequently met my child. From thousands of miles away here was the little boy destined for my home and my heart.

I've always, always known that I wanted to be a mother. While the desire to carry around a baby in a tomato basket and substitute "i"s with "y"s faded long ago, my mother instinct has never wavered. I never planned to adopt an older child. But Peanut and I fit together so perfectly I feel it was in my life's plan all along... I just didn't know it.

The long of it:

A few weeks ago my agency decided to add a couple of documents to my dossier. I was frustrated because it seemed like that could have been accomplished months and months ago. But, as they were important documents that are going to benefit me in the long run, I was game.

After said documents went to my agency's main office in Russia and were translated they were sent to the regional representative. At that time my dossier should have been filed. But, alas, there was another delay. Four tiny little words had to be removed from one of the new documents. Four words. Upon hearing that I said quite a few choice four-letter words. Truck drivers were shocked. But, I changed the document and have been in wait mode ever since. So far the modified document made it to the main office and should be on its way to the regional representative. So maybe my dossier will be filed next week.

Hopefully, maybe, soon... these are words I would like to strike from the English language. They're supposed to be positive words, but I've heard and said them so often with no results to show for it that they now sound hollow. I try to stay upbeat, I really do. But today I'm angry, sad, and frustrated. I'll bounce back -- I always do. But right now I'm a bundle of negative emotions.


The short of it:

I've lost another month since accreditation. My dossier is STILL NOT FILED.

Thanks to everyone who's ordered from my Flowers for Peanut fundraiser. My goal was to sell 120 items and I'm pretty darn close. I've sold 86 items so far and I know that I have at least a few more orders coming in.

I'm sending in for the bulk shipment this Wednesday. So if you were planning on ordering anything and haven't yet, please do so soon.

Fundraising for adoption is a tricky thing. I've felt as if I'm putting people out a bit. And my son is not a charity. So there's an icky factor associated with adoption fundraising. But, as many of you know, adoption costs are astronomical. Hopefully the end of my adoption journey is coming soon. (I hope, I hope, I hope.) So looking at the remaining costs I have to come up with is a bit daunting. Thanks to all of you that ordered I am that much closer to my goal and, subsequently, that much closer to my son.

Some of the other members of the "Russian posse" are also holding fundraisers. Please help out if you can. Jen is selling all sorts of great products that everyone can use, and Lisa is selling everything from cookbooks to quilts.

Thanks for all of your help!