There have been nothing but crickets on this blog for a long time. So long, I wonder if anyone still has me in their feed readers. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I thought about blogging again. Even after closing down The Open Window, the urge to write and share pieces of Slugger's and my life was still there. I missed all of you. I missed how easy it was to share thoughts with my Internet peers that I might not have even shared with my own mother.

Now I have a chance to keep a daily online journal that will help my little family tremendously. As they are for many people, things have been tough financially. I lost my two biggest clients this summer and I'm struggling. So, in the hopes that some Open Window friends are still out there, please vote for me. And please spread the word. (Please, please, please spread the word.) If I can secure enough votes and win this contest, you'll be able to get a daily glimpse into my life (and Slugger's too, of course).

Good Mood Gig from SAM-e

I started Peanut Pants when I was part of the way through my Russian adoption process. I didn't really know what would come of blogging. I didn't really have any expectations at all. But, in time, I was pleasantly surprised. My blog led me to some wonderful friends. People who I have rejoiced with, cried with, and understood... all without ever meeting most of them. I never would have expected that. And it is a beautiful thing, indeed.

I started The Open Window when I didn't know quite where I was going to turn. I knew I still wanted to adopt, but I was quite clueless of where or how I would do so. Somehow the option of adopting from foster care was just a perfect fit for me. It took Peanut coming into and slipping out of my life for me to realize that. It remains one of the biggest gifts my little guy from Russia ever gave me.

Adopting domestically was challenging at best. I'm a planner... a do-er. Without hard and fast timelines, I often felt that I was floundering and that it was all an exercise in futility. My heart broke a thousand times while waiting to be matched. Those of you who followed along know just a few of the kids my heart aches for. I call them the kids of my heart, and they'll remain there always.

But there were many more heartaches that I never blogged about. Children whose social workers thought I was a perfect match for, but I knew immediately that I wasn't. I still cry when I think of the little dark-eyed girl in Colorado I turned down. Oh, how I hope she found someone that could give her the help I couldn't.

And all the profiles I read that just made me ache for the children and what they went through. The horrors that adults inflicted on these kids... it's nothing short of appalling. There were even cases that made me physically ill. And then there were the cases that my agency protected me from. Ones where -- once they received the information on a child -- they knew my answer would have to be no. So my agency would call me, tell me bits and pieces and protect from the worst of it. Knowing the horrible cases they didn't feel the need to protect me from, I can imagine how disturbing some others can be. I may not even know the names of some of these children, but I carry a piece of them with me everywhere. They've changed me, molded me into someone new. They've opened my eyes. And they'll have my thoughts and my prayers forever.

And then came Slugger. The boy that needed me as much as I needed him. He was an absolute stranger... and yet he was undeniably my son.

I originally thought that, after my child came home, I would close down my blog. But, selfishly maybe, I still needed it. You, my friends, have been a lifeline for me more times than I can count. Slugger and I traveled over some very bumpy roads. This blog was my therapy, my cathartic escape, the link that sometimes helped reassure me and let me know that I wasn't total crap of a mother.

But now, Slugger and I are traveling on smoother roads. We continue to make strides with attachment and, considering the degree of his attachment disorder, I foresee that we'll both still be building our attachment for years and years. We're still working on anger management, sensory issues, anxiety, and trust. We're still weeding through fears related to his past abuse and neglect. We're not a typical family by any means.

But we've become normal for each other. Very little surprises me now. And while I'm still often stumped as to what I should do exactly, I know that all parents feel that way from time to time. I'm not as hard on myself as I was at first. I'm more patient in my search for progress. Our days are full and filled with love and fun. Some days, undeniably, are filled with stress and worry. But that, again, is our normal. And it's OK. He's OK. I'm OK. We're OK.

We're not perfect. But we are a family.

Over the past few months, though I've often come up with topics to write about, I've felt no need to do so. Writing on this blog became more of a need to not have too many days go by without a post. I tried just not writing until I felt like it, but I've found that I just don't feel like writing on here anymore. And, selfish though it may be, I'm glad. I'm glad I don't want to write on here anymore. Because that means I have no need to. I don't need reassurance or assistance. I don't need to share our stories because they may help someone else anymore. (Though I do hope some of my writings were helpful in some small way.) I don't need the cheap-seats therapy that this blog provided for me. I think Juliet said it best... parting is such sweet sorrow. I am sad to close this blog, even if it's just temporary. But it's a sweet sorrow, because I know the reasons for closing it are good.

I don't like when bloggers make the big, dramatic, goodbye posts. Because then it's just silly when they return. And yet, a big dramatic post is what I've written. And return I might. If there's anything I'm good at, it's changing my mind. So, like Juliet, I'll just say Good night. And while it certainly won't be tomorrow, I may be back eventually. Til then...

One of Slugger's chores is to get the mail. When he brings it in, he has a habit of going through it and reading off what each one is from. Today he handed me an unassuming white envelope. He tried to read the return address, but after stumbling with it he just said "it's from the White House."

Even though it's been years since I filed my I-600A* and I received my I-171H as an early Christmas present in 2005, I still got a little jolt of excitement when I saw the return address. U.S. Department of Homeland Security.

What I found inside said "Review of the record reveals that your application was approved on December 16, 2005 and was therefore valid through May 16, 2007. A further review fails to indicate that you have filed Form I-600 Petition to Classify Orphan as an Immediate Relative within 18 months of the approval of your application, subsequently your application is considered abandoned and therefore must be denied."

Abandoned.

What a horrible word.

The how's and why's of my losing Peanut are so very far from abandonment. While I, of course, don't expect Uncle Sam to be sensitive to that fact, it was a gut check none-the-less. I didn't know a letter like this would ever be coming to me. I certainly didn't expect it so long after losing Peanut.




A few weeks ago I did a quick search on the Russian Ministry of Education's database. Peanut isn't listed, but he hasn't been for a long time. I did find updated photos of three of the kids that were here in 2005, though. It broke my heart. Those beautiful kids were kind of frozen in time for me. And here they were -- little V, who celebrated his 5th birthday in the US is now 8-years-old. His older sister, N, is Slugger's age and she looked so grown up. Another girl, also N, is turning into the beautiful pre-teen I knew she would be. They all looked healthy and well. Their hair was shiny and neat and they had decent clothes on.

But their eyes. Oh, their eyes. All three of them -- who sparkled with life and attitude and heart while they were here -- their eyes were just empty. I know they probably stood in line with all the other kids in the dietsky dom and I'm sure they weren't happy about that. But still... I couldn't help but think about how different their photos would be if they were here.

And it makes me wonder what Peanut looks like now. I'm still waiting to hear back from the Russian Ministry of Education on whether or not I can contact him in his new home. Seeing the other kids so grown took my breath away and stunned me into tears. How will I react if and when I get a chance to see Peanut again?



In regards to that letter I received today and the use of the word abandoned, nothing could possibly be more inaccurate. I didn't abandon Peanut. I'm still searching for him. And even if I never find him... I will never fully abandon my boy. In my heart he is still my son. Though it will never be legal... though I may never speak to him again... nothing can ever change that.


* For all of the non-international adoption folks, the I-600A was a necessary application and the I-171H was the approval to adopt/bring a foreign-born orphan to the US when I tried to adopt from Russia in 2005.

Labels: Peanut

Politically, I've rarely agreed with this man in the past. But when someone speaks the truth, it's worth repeating:

"McCain has gone in some of his ads -- similarly gone one step too far," he told Fox News, "and sort of attributing to Obama things that are, you know, beyond the '100 percent truth' test."

He said both candidates need to "be careful" about their attacks on each other.

"They ought to -- there ought to be an adult who says, 'Do we really need to go that far in this ad? Don't we make our point and won't we get broader acceptance and deny the opposition an opportunity to attack us if we don't include that one little last tweak in the ad?' " he said.

Who said these wise words? Believe it or not... Karl Rove.

p.s. I'll return to regularly scheduled programming soon. I promise. Things are going quite well for Slugger and I, but I do have some things to share. I just find that, after writing all day long for work, I'd rather spend time doing something away from my computer in my free time. Bear with me!