The road to happily ever after is a long one.  Think Harrison Ford looking at Anne Heche in Six Days, Seven Nights and breaking it to her that they are likely to be stranded on a desert island for, ya know, a LONG time. 

Along the way, in amongst the easy, no potholed roads that wend their way thru fields of flowers, there are some treacherous, mountainy (probably not a word, but forgive me anyway), sheer drop off kind of roads.  Some roads have lots of turns, mostly U turns as my Navigation system enjoys reminding me because I’m an idiot and keep forgetting how to shut that floozy up.  Possibly a fender bender where you cause SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS worth of damage to your car without even spilling your cup of coffee, or a fullblown multiple vehicle incident that can change your life forever.  But, that’s a post for another time. 

Currently, Hubunit and I are at the adoption mile marker on our road.  And the adoption thing is like that road in San Francisco that is impossibly bent.  I know.  That road seems an improbable route to happily ever after, but still, we are on it.  Mostly because it’s worked for us before.  Which, to a sane person, would seem to imply that we should count our lucky stars and leave well enough alone.  But, never having been accused of being sane before, why start now . . . 

Yeah, except I’m tired of waiting.  I’ve done my part.  After all, I convinced Hubunit to jump on board AND we’re still married.  I spent hours, days, weeks, months poring over the internet, researching countries, ages, glimpsed photos of waiting kids and built entire lives for them out of the figment of my imagination.  I returned over and over to the Guatemala government’s adoption page and stared at those spanish words, willing them to miraculously scream, we’re open again.  I slowly adjusted the dream and started to find myself drawn to Hungary.  Well, first I had to find it on the map and then I daydreamed about it alot.  I looked at more photos of kids with medical issues, cleft palate, missing fingers, club feet and knew in my heart that we could accept a child like that into our hearts and our lives.  I filled out reams and reams of forms.  I bared my soul to the social worker, well, and the fingerprint person.  I emailed, photocopied, faxed, scanned and FedEx’d till my head exploded. 

And now?  Now it’s hard for me to understand that Europe takes August off.   Oh yeah.  The whole continent closes up shop and goes on holiday. 

Huh.  Don’t they care that Monkey tells everyone he meets that we are trying to get a new baby brudder or sister?  That he is saving his toys in a pile for them to play with since he’s convinced that even a baby sister will already love Pokemon.  Or that he was saving left over food for the new little one, cuz who doesn’t want half of a three month old PB&J?

Surprisingly, I am not a patient person.  I really need to work on that.  In the meantime, if you have one of those thingymabobbers that can turn a red light green with just a tap of the button – you’re my new best friend.  Seriously, you need to share that thing now.  It’s good for your soul.