Single Mom of 3... by choice

I don't have time to blog... but wanted to link in to Kelly's Show Us Your Life today to find other single moms who don't have time to blog. :o)

I posted a day in our lives awhile back but so much has changed... for one thing, the addition of a new baby!! So let me start with an introduction and perhaps I'll have time later for an update on what our days look like now.

I am Prairie Rose... I'm a late 30s single mom to three children I'm adopting, who have now been in my care for one year (except the baby, who we got from birth). Puffins is 5, Doodle is 2, and Smiles is almost four months old -- unbelievable how quickly the time flies.

Since I'm single, I do work, but my schedule is pretty flexible and I'm able to be off by 2 pm to pick up Puffins from school, so I still get a good deal of stay-at-home time with the kids also.

Would love to see how other single moms handle things like one-on-one time with each child, doing things with the older child that the little ones can't do, etc. I feel like we do pretty well overall but finding the time and ability to do everything I wish I could with Puffins is my biggest weakness.

Sixty Years.

Sixty years ago today, a young mother of three made a choice... a dreadful choice. She chose to take her own life.

To do that, she must surely have felt like nothing she did mattered... but this? This mattered. This still matters. The repercussions of her act are still impacting lives today, and not for good.

You see, the poison she drank only poisoned her physical body... but it didn't stop there. The poison of bitterness filled her little daughter, sickening her more and more as she grew.

The poison destroyed the relationship between this now-grown little girl and her own daughter, driving the latter to the same depression and anxiety that plagued her grandmother.

And now the poison is seeping into the relationship of the now-aged little girl and her little granddaughter. Time will tell its impact upon her life -- the great-granddaughter of the young woman who felt herself so unimportant that she thought the world could do without her.

Four generations of women poisoned over a period of sixty years by that one bottle of rat-killer.

It is SO time for this to stop.

If you think you're worthless and the world would be better off without you, please think again. Think of who you'll still be hurting sixty years from now.

Just One Day

This post is for my own benefit so if you happen to stumble across it and wonder why I think you'd care about all these small details of our days, I don't. :) They just pass by so quickly and children change so much in no time, and I don't want to forget. This is a good place for me to quickly write down the little things, so I'll have a record of it someday when these days would otherwise be forgotten.

Doodle is our alarm clock most mornings, waking us anywhere between 6 and 7. Every once in awhile he'll sleep in till 7:30 or so -- typically on a morning we have to be somewhere early so have to get up before then anyway. If it's a Saturday, it's guaranteed to be 6 am.

Puffins flies out of bed the second she hears my doorknob turn. After a quick change of Doodle's diaper as he wakes up SOAKED, we head for the breakfast table. Doodle is currently in a stage where he really wants to feed himself but doesn't do a terribly good job.

After breakfast, I get Puffins ready for the day, then Doodle (9 times out of 10 he dirties his diaper after breakfast and there's no sense in dressing him before he does the deed!), then myself while the kids play in the living room, then it's off to the sitter's and to work we go!

When I pick them up in the afternoon, I try to have a plan for something we can do or somewhere we go. Really hot afternoons we usually spend at the pool. Nicer ones, we visit a park. If it's raining, the library makes a good stop, although we often run by there on the way home on pretty days as well. If it's later when I pick them up, we generally just go home and play in the back yard.

Doodle is crazy about balls. He spends his outside time digging every kind of ball he can find out of the storage shed. He especially loves t-ball and has mastered the art of putting the ball on the tee and hitting it with the bat all by himself. He will also throw a basketball at a hoop but just can't get it up high enough yet.

Puffins learned to swing by herself earlier this summer, much to my relief, as I got so tired of having to stand there and push her all the time, especially with an active toddler running around like crazy. She's now working on gymnastics skills in preparation for starting classes this fall.

I try to keep them outside and active until about 6:30. We come in for dinner and then I spend a half hour or so with Doodle doing fingerplays and songs with motions, working puzzles, shape sorters, and pop-up toys, and reading books while Puffins has her bedtime snack. He does all the motions to pat-a-cake and "If You're Happy and You Know It," will do some of the motions to "Itsy Bitsy Spider," "Five Little Monkeys" (both versions -- jumping on the bed and swinging from a tree), and loves to scream at the end of Row Your Boat (if you see an alligator, don't forget to scream!) He also loves Eye Winker and does the "gully gully gully" at the end of it and laughs. He's learning "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes."

Both kids are also crazy about singing and dancing. Puffins' favorites are those she sings at Kids Church, especially "Good Morning" and "Boom Chaka Laka." Doodle is WILD about "Mahna Mahna" and will sing the mahna mahna parts of it every time you sing it to him. He can't see a phone or computer without begging for it. His other favorite which he requests verbally all the time is, as he calls it, "Hey yeah, yeah" -- a song from VBS. So a lot of times during or after meals, we play music on the laptop and the kids dance in the kitchen.

At 7:30, Puffins and I put Doodle to bed. I change him and brush his teeth, and then hold him and sing his bedtime songs -- Jesus Loves Me, Rest Easy, Baby Mine, and finally Sleep Sound in Jesus. I say his little bedtime prayer for him, "Dear God, I love you. Thank you for loving me. Please keep me safe, and Puffins safe, and my baby brother or sister safe. In Jesus' name, Amen." Doodle always chimes in himself with the Amen. Then with a goodnight kiss, I lay him down, cover him with his blanket, give him his Mickey, and turn on his mobile. He says "ninight" and he gets one more kiss, and out we tiptoe.

Then begins Puffins' bedtime routine. We get her in her pjs and brush her teeth, and then we each pick out a library book to read. We read those two books first, then we read a Bible storybook, then we read a chapter or two from Little House -- currently on On the Banks of Plum Creek -- and then after some hugs, I tuck her in with her pink blanket first, and then the sheets and covers, read her her short bedtime devotional, then she says her prayer and I turn on her bedtime music and stay with her until she falls asleep, usually less than five minutes.

And that's a typical day in our lives right now.

Water

"I'm thirsty," came the cry from the backseat on the way to the sitter's this morning.

"Okay," I replied, bracing myself for the tantrum I knew was sure to come. "You can have some water as soon as we get to the babysitter's."

"NOOO!" came Puffin's shrill cry. "I don't WANT water!"

"Well, you're not thirsty then," I replied matter-of-factly.

"I want JUICE!" she insisted.

"You had juice for breakfast. If you're still thirsty, you can have water." Our caloric intake is extremely high as it without adding empty liquid calories to the count.

"I HATE WATER!" she shrieked. "I want milk!!!"

I have to limit her dairy intake due to constipation issues. I reminded her of this, and told her again she could have water.

She continued to cry and wail and scream the rest of the way to the sitter's about how mean I am to make her drink water, while I ignored her entirely but sighed inwardly to myself, wondering why it has to be this way. Must everything be a fight?

After dropping the kids off and heading off to work, I turned on the radio. K-Love was hosting a fundraiser for a Water for Life project for Compassion International. I thought of this morning's tussle as I heard story after story of children forced to drink sludge that made them sick, but there was no choice. They had nothing else to drink.

"Puffins needs to listen to these stories," I thought to myself. Not that it would likely make any difference. Four-year-olds are notoriously self-centered, after all.

But as the day progressed, a plan came to mind. For $55, I could purchase a filter that would supply one family in Rwanda with clean drinking water for the rest of their lives. Puffins has no way to earn money, nor any desire to as I've found from past experience, so having her help come up with the money wouldn't work. How could I involve her in this project and teach her a lesson in gratitude at the same time?

It came to me. I told Puffins this evening about the stories I heard, and asked her if she would like to help these poor children who have no clean water to drink. She was interested. We drew up a chart with numbers from 1 to 55. Every time Puffins drinks a glass of water without whining, complaining, or begging for juice or milk, she gets to mark off a number to represent a dollar earned toward the filter. When she reaches 55, we will buy the water filter for the family in Rwanda.

Puffins is excited about this, and asked for water with her dinner tonight. Here's hoping Puffins learns to appreciate what she has, while helping a family in Rwanda at the same time.

Want to help out too? Visit Compassion International and buy a water filter.

Where I've Been

I've been a little busy lately. My fostering adventure finally began, and boy, has it kept me busy.

My first call came on my nephew's birthday -- an eight week old baby boy was being discharged from the hospital and I needed to come pick him up immediately. What a frenzy ensued -- a happy one!! I loved every minute I had with this precious baby and don't regret a single second, although he only stayed with me eight days before the court ordered him home again, and spent half of that time in the hospital. He was a critically ill baby but I loved him desperately.

The house was so empty after he left. Funny how a house that had always been empty never felt so, but only eight days of a tiny seven-pound boy had filled it so wonderfully full that his absence caused the halls to echo.

Fortunately, this lasted only a couple of weeks, and within the span of five days, two children filled up my home again, Puffins and Doodle.

Doodle came first, a thirteen month old baby boy who stole my cautious heart almost immediately with his precious smile. Puffins followed, a devastatingly sad little girl, just four years old.

Fast forward a very very very busy six months, and Doodle is still winning hearts everywhere with his smiles and hugs and kisses, and Puffins is a much happier child, herself, though time has not yet healed all wounds.

Just a brief update before I begin posting again, lest you wonder who on earth are these children who appeared out of nowhere named Puffins and Doodle. :)

Merry Christmas to Me

It's been a great Christmas so far, and it's not even Christmas Eve yet!

My best Christmas present is a girl named Mariamu. I recently heard about this 14 year old from Tanzania who was waiting for a sponsor through Compassion International -- Australia. I don't live in Australia, so I couldn't sponsor her -- or could I?

I very much wanted to sponsor Mariamu. There are hundreds of kids waiting on the Compassion USA site, but Mariamu needed me. You see, she's been waiting six and a half years for a sponsor. Six and a half years.

That is mind-boggling. I can't even imagine how much she has hurt over the years, watching every other child receive letters and gifts and love from their sponsors, and month after month, year after year, nobody ever sends her anything. Nobody cares about her.

To make matters worse, Mariamu was recently orphaned. So not only has she had to sit more than six years waiting for someone to care about her enough to sponsor her, but she has watched both of her parents die -- and she has no siblings. She's all alone in the world now.

Or at least she was. I was able to obtain permission to have Mariamu transferred to the Compassion USA site so that I could sponsor her. Merry Christmas to me!!! I am so excited about adding this new sweet girl to my Compassion family, and only hope that I am up to the challenge of pouring enough love out to her to make up for the six and a half years of nothing.

There are many children like Mariamu waiting for a sponsor. Do you have some extra love to share with a child who desperately needs it this Christmas? I highly encourage you to sponsor a child. Compassion's programming is so successful at releasing children from poverty -- at truly making a difference. There are lots of good ministries out there feeding the hungry, putting shoes on bare feet, digging water wells, etc., and those are wonderful things to support. But Compassion takes a different approach. Rather than changing the child's circumstances and hoping for a change in the child, they believe if you change the child, then the child will change their circumstances. They use a child development model, to help children learn and grow and be loved and achieve their fullest potential, in spite of their circumstances.

There are children of all ages and countries waiting for you to change their world today, for a mere $38 a month and the time invested in your correspondence. Go now, and bring "home" a child for Christmas this year.

Besides Mariamu, my Christmas has been fun so far due to getting the opportunity to play Santa Claus -- and seeing God's hand work in that situation.

I asked my preschoolers at church to bring in birthday presents for Jesus. Some brought money, which I had not wanted them to do as I wanted it to be meaningful for the kids, and I don't think preschoolers really get the point when Mom or Dad forks over money, instead of them wrapping up a toy they'd really like to have themselves and giving it away. But what can you do?

As it turns out, God had a plan for that money. I learned of a 7 year old boy who wanted nothing for Christmas except a bicycle. His name went on a Salvation Army tree and was chosen... by a person who bought him a shirt, a hat and gloves, some Matchbox cars... and a bicycle helmet.

What a slap in the face, to give a child who wants nothing but a bike, a HELMET with no bike. I don't know what on earth they were thinking.

Well, as it turns out, my kids brought in $50. A boys' bicycle cost $49 at Walmart. Is that God or what? That little boy is getting his bicycle for Christmas, courtesy of my preschoolers. :o) I just had the fun of dropping it off, and was his grandmother ever grateful.

I also had the pleasure of dropping off all the toys the kids brought in to a family I just met last week -- after having asked the kids to bring in presents with no idea who I was going to give them to. I knew God would show me who needed them, and He did. This poor little boy had absolutely nothing for Christmas, and his parents are too concerned about saving up money to get the water turned back on to be able to spend anything on gifts. There's no stockings hanging up in that house, no tree of any kind. You wouldn't even know it's Christmas. At least, you wouldn't a couple of days ago. With the pile of brightly wrapped gifts I just dropped off to them this afternoon, chosen by my preschoolers as gifts they themselves would like to receive at Christmas, I think this little boy's Christmas is looking a lot merrier. :o)

And then a gift for me -- I unexpectedly received in the mail -- unexpectedly because after thinking things had finally fallen into place so that I could begin fostering, more red tape intervened and I thought right now I was just on hold again -- my certificate of approval for fostering/adopting. FINALLY!!

Now I just wait on a phone call to go pick me up some kids! :o) Hallelujah!

Why Children Don't Have Homes

I've refrained from writing about this for months and months but I'm mad enough now I can't keep from doing it any longer. Not that it matters that I write it. But at least I can vent. And have a record for myself of this ridiculously lengthy timeline to look back on someday when it's all over. Assuming that someday ever comes.

February 7, 2009. I filled out an application to become a foster parent. The application stated that the process can take up to six months to complete.

About a week later. I received a packet of information on the process, as well as signup sheets for mandatory classes to become certified to foster and/or adopt. No problem. I signed up for the soonest class available. After all, I was ready to go. Immediately.

May 2, 2009. I completed the last of five full Saturdays in training. Fingerprints were taken in the first class, the first week of April. Next step -- and last one: Home Study. Someone would contact us to set that up, we were told. I specifically asked if there was anything else I needed to do in the meantime. Anything to fill out. Anyone to call. No. We're done with everything. We just need to wait on this phone call. It may take several months due to them being backed up. Court-appointed home studies must be completed first because they have a deadline. Kinship care comes next, because those children are already in the foster homes and they must hurry to do the home studies to ensure those children are safe. So "resource families" as they called people like me who just want to give a home to a needy child that is not a relative are last on the list. Fine. A few months. I can wait a few months.

August 2009. I begin calling the office to find out if they're going to schedule my home study soon. I call for over a month before I actually get to speak to a human being. Over a month. You can't imagine how many calls that is, or how many messages that is. Nor how frustrating it is to never be able to get ahold of anyone.

September 2009. At last, someone calls me. But not the person I've been trying to reach. Not that person's supervisor. Not anyone from my county at all. But a person from several counties away calls, because their supervisor told them to call me because he was too busy to do it and the person I've been trying to reach is out on maternity leave. At last, I get to speak to a human being, although it's not a human being who can help me. Except that said human being asks if I've submitted my home study information yet. What home study information? Why, a huge packet of information I'm supposed to fill out before they'll call me. Remember I specifically asked if there was anything I needed to do or fill out at that last class and was told no, nothing, just wait for a call? The call was never going to come, because if you don't fill out this packet of information then they assume you are no longer interested and don't call you. THANKS. I had her send me the packet. I filled it out that very day and sent it back in. And waited.

October 2009. I begin calling again. Maternity leave lady was supposed to be back in early September. I want to make sure they know I'm interested. And know I've been waiting. Since February. And trained since May 2. I'm very tired of waiting. Christmas is coming, and I want children in my home for Christmas. Can we please get this taken care of? I finally reach the lady who does the home studies, who tells me I need to come into the office to speak with her and take care of some things. Finally, I think! Progress. I make the appointment. I go in. Fingerprints... the ones taken SIX MONTHS AGO? They came back rejected. Not because I'm a criminal. Because the FBI was apparently unable to read the prints. She fingerprinted me again, then told me that this was her last week at this office so she won't be doing my home study. Someone else will and she'll be sure to let them know I've been waiting a long time and she's quite sure they'll get to me soon.

November 2009. I call the new lady. I ask her if she can give me an estimate of when she's going to be able to schedule my home study. She launches into the spiel I have now heard repeatedly, "We have to do the court-appointed studies first, and then we have to do the kinship care, and folks like you are at the bottom of the list..." I said, "I understand that, ma'am, but it's been 9 months since I got on the list... I was thinking surely my turn must be coming up soon." (Seeing as how the application states the process can take UP TO six months, if you'll recall.) In an annoyed tone, the new home study lady replies, "We never even get through all the kinship studies. You will ALWAYS be at the bottom of the list."

WELL THEN!

They could have told me that in MAY and saved all this hassle! Why even pretend like they're going to eventually come out and do my home study if they know good and well it's never going to happen? and WHY can't it happen?? What on earth are they DOING all day long five days a week 52 weeks a year that they can't come out to my house for an hour and get this done?? And then they complain that they don't have enough foster families, and that there are alllllll these children waiting for adoption that nobody will adopt. Well, gee, I wonder why???

So. I hung up the phone and called a private agency. If the department were doing their job, there would be no need for the private agency. Because the agency does foster care, as well -- they get the kids that the department is unable to find homes for. Why can the agency find homes when the department can't? Hmm, might it be because the agency will actually come out and do home studies!?!!? I called them in late November.

December 2009: The lady from the agency came out and did my initial home study, and two weeks later my follow-up home study. Fingerprints taken again. After the follow-up, I was informed that everything was great and ready to go, as soon as the fingerprints cleared, I was ready to start taking kids. It will take about 6 weeks, I'm told. Terrific! After this lengthy wait, the end is finally near!

January 2010: My fingerprints from the state came back clear, but the fingerprints from the FBI have not yet arrived. Waiting. Waiting.

March 2010: I've heard nothing. I call the agency. "No, those prints aren't back yet, they've been taking a long time. There's nothing we can do about it but just wait."

Notice the agency did their part rapidly. The government dawdled for months upon months and got nothing done and in less than a month, the agency's part was done. Fingerprints? Back to the government. And so we wait.

April 2010: I call again about the fingerprints. They still aren't in. I express great concern. It could not possibly take this long, I say. Please check into this. They check into it. Apparently the FBI has LOST my prints because they don't have them sitting on their desk and apparently have no way to TRACK whether they've done prints or not. Wonderful. I get another set of prints done. This time they have me send in two sets. That way if one set can't be read, surely the other one can. No more delays... no more delays.

July 2010: I call again. It's been three months with no word. "Oh," they say. "Your prints came back last week, but it's not good... they couldn't read them." WHAT? BOTH sets they couldn't read?

At this point, I was beyond furious. And so frustrated I just wanted to scream. I could do this for the rest of my life! Here I've been waiting since CHRISTMAS on absolutely NOTHING but this one stupid set of prints. Stupid especially because my state prints cleared no problem, and I've never lived in another state! Why is this even necessary?? And yet it is. I begin to feel like I could do this the rest of my life and never get anywhere. If you've ever been in a car that's stuck in the mud, so frustrated and desperate to get out that you'll do anything and yet nothing works, your wheels just spin and spin, that's where I'm at. I call them to express my great frustration and my desperation to just get this done. I will drive TO the FBI office, I offer, several hours away to get this DONE. No, I can't do that, it does no good. The only way to get cleared is to send in the prints again, and wait another three months. Maybe my prints I did for the government in October came through okay -- if I could get ahold of them, and if they would send the info.... no, we can't do that.

The only thing that gives me any hope at all is that I am now told that the FBI requires three attempts, and if this third attempt also fails and can't be read, they will do a name search instead. So it WILL eventually be over. But when? Another three months to read these prints -- if they can keep from losing them this time!!! -- and then if they can't read them, another three months to do a name search?

Something has to be done about this. There are children waiting for homes, and ridiculous things like this going on to prevent those homes from being available to them. I have been willing to jump through any hoop they give me, and I do it immediately each time. And here I am a year and a half down the road and still months away from having any hope of getting through those hoops. How does anyone do it?? I've never been so frustrated in my life.

And people wonder why I'm becoming more libertarian (in principle, not in party) every day. The private agency has done its job quickly and successfully in every way. But every step that involves any governmental party has dragged along and been full of hassles and red tape. Something has got to change.

So for now, I wait again. For a third set of prints. And yet another Christmas which will likely come and go with no children in this home.

Did I mention the two beautiful rooms that just sit empty and collect dust month after month after month while hundreds of children in this state sit wishing desperately for a home?

Childless

Sometimes it can be discouraging when it seems the entire rest of the world has children and year after year goes by and you still do not. Sometimes it can.

But then sometimes I remember.

6 sponsored children through Compassion International. (Two of them call me mom.)

25 children in the preschool ministry I'm director of at church. (Doesn't hurt when one excitedly drags her mother across an amphitheatre because, "I SAW MY TEACHER AND WE MUST GO SEE HER!!!!")

35 infants and toddlers I see day in and day out for therapy (which of course means play for infants and toddlers, and hey, how many people get paid to play all day?)

20 foster children at the summer camp I'm getting ready to volunteer at

A niece and a nephew who glue themselves to me whenever possible. And another nephew who's too young to do it yet but almost certainly will before long. And another foster nephew to play with, on top of all that.

By my calculations, that's 90 children I have the opportunity to influence in this present season of my life. That doesn't count the hundreds who have come and gone (and come and GROWN!) over the years.

And I call myself childless??

“Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married,” says the Lord. ~Isaiah 54:1

Happy Easter...

Last week in the preschool class I work in at church, our memory verse was, "He is not here; He has risen." When book time arrived, one of my little girls excitedly announced, "Oh, you don't have to tell me my verse, I already know it!" and proceeded to recite: "He is not here; He is in prison."

Oops.

(This is the same little girl who at Christmas shared that you have to believe in Jesus and ask Him into your heart or else He won't bring you any Christmas presents. She's so close... and yet so far away.)

So, this Easter season, I've been reflecting. A series of coincidences have occurred in my life surrounding death and loss, interesting timing for this holiday in which we celebrate victory over death.

You see, yesterday I reconnected with the daughter of an old friend who passed away several years ago. Sharing memories and looking through old pictures just made me miss her all the more.

At the same time, my great-aunt just died. The visitation was today. How strange, to be going to a funeral home on Easter. And yet, how fitting. After all, what better reminder of what Easter is all about? She's celebrating new life, eternal life, in heaven today -- because of what happened on the very first Easter Sunday.

It was still a strange experience, because the relative was on my father's side of the family. While my mother's side is mostly present and very close, my father's side of the family is very nearly gone. But for a couple uncles now, his entire family is gone. I was reminded of that as I walked through the doors of the funeral home, as I've done so many times to bid farewell to his father, his stepmother, his aunt and uncle who raised him, his brother, and others. When I saw the brother of my great-uncle who raised my father, so was much like a grandfather to me, it was like seeing my great-uncle again, though he's been gone for thirteen years. My grandfather's two remaining brothers bear a strong resemblance to him, as well... gone for more than twenty years. The familiar faces from my childhood scrolled through my memory and as I realized those times are gone, those people are gone, I can never have another moment with any of them again (on earth), I felt much sorrow.

What if the little girl was right? What if death had imprisoned Jesus, as it could do to each of us without Him? What if He didn't conquer death, what if He didn't rise again? Life as we know it would be so different -- it wouldn't even feel like life at all. It would feel like death. Death would pervade our entire existence. We'd be robbed of all hope, and filled with constant sadness.

But He did overcome the grave, and He is alive today, and because He is, we have not only the hope, but the assurance of eternal life. Eternity is set in our hearts, you know... and I realize now that this is why I miss my friend... my family members, so much. Because it feels wrong to me to think of them as being gone forever, to think of them as nothing more now but a memory, I find myself longing to see them again, to have more time together, to make new memories.

And we will. The reason it feels so wrong to think of them as gone forever is that they aren't gone forever. They've just moved away, and someday I'll move there too, and we'll all be reunited, never to be separated again.

So the song in my heart this year reflects my thoughts upon death and lost loved ones...

"For everything must die to rise again." (Matt Maher)

It's been a long time...

I haven't blogged since before Christmas -- mainly because there wasn't anything pressing to blog about. It's been a fun few months, a busy few months, but nothing earth shattering has occurred.

Well, except one wee thing. The birth of our precious little Michael Darling in January was pretty earth shattering. I'd had a cold the few days before he was born but was feeling much better the actual day of his birth and had gone to work. I had decided not to go to the hospital because I didn't want to spread my germs to a newborn baby, but I was feeling so much better and I was so sad about not getting to see him that finally after he was born, I asked if I could come over if I promised to stay back from him and not touch him or breathe on him. His parents said sure, come on over, so off I sped toward the hospital.

Unfortunately, just as I got on the elevator to go up to Delivery, my brother called. "They just took him to the nursery, and they said it'll be hours before he's back." My immediate dismay quickly turned to hope, as I recalled following the nurses to the nursery and watching through the window when John was born, so I changed my direction and went straight to the nursery.

When I reached the window, I saw two newborns in the incubators and they were bringing one in. Which one might he be? As soon as the nurse came to the window and laid the new one they were bringing in on the scale, I had no doubt. This was our Michael Darling. Had to be, he looked exactly like John did when he was born! I was thrilled that I could recognize a baby I'd never met.

I watched them weigh him, bathe him, incubate him, and all the other things they put the poor little darlings through, and was pleased that I got to see him for such a long time at no risk to him, due to the nice glass window between us keeping any germs away. And by the next evening, I was still feeling totally healthy and felt the germ risk had passed, so got to hold him and cuddle him and coo at him all I wanted.

John was born allergic to everything, and sure enough, little Michael started out the same way. Fortunately, his parents already knew the ropes from going through it all with John, and removed everything that John was eventually found to be allergic to from the baby, and he's having a GREAT infancy so far! (Poor little John was miserable the first 6-8 months of life, until they finally worked out what all he was allergic to so they could remove it all!) He's a smiley little guy already and sweet as sweet can be.

Nothing much else to report. But I'll stop in when there is. :) 'Til then -- ta ta.