Sunday, October 12, 2008

I'm calling in sick tomorrow... and the next day, and the next, and...

Here's the tentative plan for the week:

Keep up with school at home.
Go, with Darrell and Alex, to a town 30 minutes away to get two sets of fingerprints taken for each of us.
Mail fingerprints, accompanying paperwork, and fees to two different places.
Mail letters of reference forms to our 3 oldest children for them to fill out and send to agency.
Go to parent/teacher conferences at the high school.
Ask two teachers at the high school to write and send in letters of reference to the agency.
Feel embarrassed for asking these people who don't know us on a personal level and couldn't care less about our adoption needs to write personal letters on our behalf.
Wonder who came up with the stupid idea to start dieting now... This idiot should be dipped in hot grease.
Ask 4 friends (again- because I've already done it once for the homestudy) to write and send in letters of reference to the agency.
Ask one friend to send letter to agency stating they will be guardians for our children in case adoption stress kills us both simultaneously.
Ignore the twitch developing in my eyelid.
Turn around and go back to the town 30 minutes away to get Michael's fingerprints done, since his and Alex's schedules wouldn't allow for all of us going at the same time.
Sign agency contracts, etc., and mail back to the agency with a whopping check.
Tell myself that the chest pains that will absolutely occur while writing the whopping check are just God's way of making me feel like I'm getting a big 'ol bear hug.
Search for my big girl panties since this whopping check is just the first of several.
Replace printer cartridges on my printer so that I can continue to make copies of the 50 bajillion documents for the dossier. Only 22 bajillion to go... YEAH!!!
Remind Darrell (again) that he needs to drive to a town 2 hours away to pick up the copies of his divorce decree for the dossier, because they've been holding them at the front desk for two weeks.
Get my house completely clean and organized, even though: 1. It has never once been completely clean and organized in 16 years. 2. It will be destroyed by the time I come back from my mom's, just four days before the homestudy.
Start eating like a pig.
Tape my eyelid shut because that full-blown tick is driving me crazy.
Help Tucker and Olivia practice lines for the church play every day.
Crawl up my husband's and son's butts (again) to make our yard look a little less like an episode of Sanford and Son.
Apologize for the language I used in front of kids while complaining about the Sanford and Son-like quality of the back yard.
Feel guilty when I see look on husband's face that says, "Dear God, woman- I'm doing the best I flipping can."
Cry. But just a little bit for now. Next time will be the whopper.
Write an autobiography for the agency.
Remind Darrell (again) to write his.
Write Darrell's autobiography for the agency.
Get our tax information ready and send to tax man.
Ask tax man to write a letter verifying employment.
Here comes the whopper crying jag... Bite my lip and keep going.
Continue making copies.
Consider applying for job at Office Max because I'm so freakin' good at this copy thing.
Do mountains of laundry so I will have clothes to pack to go visit my mom next week.
Make appointments for our physicals.
Anticipate the attitude I'm going to get from Dr. when he hears he needs to sign 5 pieces of paper for each of us, and write a letter explaining surgeries and medications.
Create imaginary friend named Betty who will begin eating lunch with me every day, and giving me a shoulder to lean upon as the insanity begins to take over.
Pack for trip to mom's.
Wonder if it's too late to consider "professional drinker" as a career path.
Call tax man and ask where in the #%#! is that letter.
Call friends and ask same thing.
Lose a few friends.
Sit in my closet and sob like a little girl.
Ask Betty for ride to psych ward when nervous breakdown occurs.
Wonder aloud with Betty why nervous breakdown took so long to arrive.
Ask Dr. in psych ward, since I'm there anyway, if he would mind filling out my medical form and writing a letter on my behalf, vouching for my mental stability and abilities to parent.
Ask Betty why Dr. is laughing.

Have a great week, Everyone!!


SueCQ said...

If your sense of humor doesn't keep you sane, I don't know what will! You are incredibly funny . . . I hope you can make yourself laugh as easily as you make your readers laugh! Hang in there with the dossier, the kids, the hubby and the diet!

Elaine said...

Ohhh, the dossier. How I hate the dossier! I wish I could be there and be Betty for you, but I'd probably have to call you Veronica.

S. said...

Oh my you can make me laugh even while also making my own eyelid tic. I am sorry it is so stressful. If you weren't on a diet I would bring you some really good chocolate. And a really good martini!

char said...

Wish I could be there to be Betty for you.
Just remember Waaaay down that list- is "hold new child in arms and sigh with relief and just how good God is".

Christina said...

Sounds like a very solid plan. :-) Hey, I've got a freaky eye tic too - the muscle just below my eye. And I don't have a dossier or homestudy to blame it on... maybe Betty could stop by my house one day next week?

Nicki said...

Ok i must have PTSD because you totally brought back all those early paperchase feelings. Just think what an ENORMOUS relief it'll be when you get through the next few days and that HUGE list!! You can do it!