How do you spell PEACE?

In early December we got out all the Christmas decoration boxes, cranked up the holiday tunes, and started decorating the house. Adam was unpacking the stocking hangers, which usually spell out PEACE...and then few minutes into our activity, I turned around and saw this:

I laughed loudly and for quite awhile, and we actually left it for a few days. Adam, who can always make me laugh, did this on purpose because few things could describe the last year of our lives better than those three letters...for two reasons.

First of all, for about the last year Adam has been working on becoming a CPA. The test is given in four parts. People typically study for a few months for each section. Each section's test takes about four hours, and in Kentucky the pass rate for each section averages around 46%. Only 10% of people pass all four sections on their first try. Adam has now taken all four sections, has passed three of them, and we are waiting for the score on the fourth. To say his schedule has been hectic is an understatement. He typically gets up between 3-5am, studies for awhile, then goes to his full-time (+) job. He studies for about 45 minutes during his lunch at work, and then often comes home and studies for another hour. I have no doubt this is the hardest personal challenge he's ever faced, and I am completely impressed and overwhelmed by his perseverance and dedication. He says he has guilt about not spending more time with C and I, but I don't see why because he still somehow manages to spend time each day with C and take me out about every other weekend for a date. And I know with perfect surety that whole reason he is doing this all is for us.

The second reason that picture characterizes us so well comes not from the letters themselves, but from the quantity of letters. I bought that 5-letter stocking hanger set before we had any kids, in anticipation of the three children we planned to have. I figured if we decided to go on to four then I could come up with something else to do.

But they say if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. And so, though we would have had all three by now had life gone as we expected, we instead find ourselves praying every day that we will finally be able to adopt and just at least make it to two. And yet, through all the waiting we still have hope. With all the work we've put into the adoption I feel as if I've experienced the difficulties of nine months of pregnancy in a different way, and should be expecting the new baby any time now. I actually find myself occasionally referring to our "kids"...I guess because deep down inside underneath the disappointment I know it will happen when the time is right.

But no matter what our letters are, I can say that through it all we have truly been blessed with peace from our Heavenly Father who is so truly aware of what our needs are. And who knows...maybe next year it will be CAPE...because we'll have a new member of our family, and my superhero husband will be a licensed CPA!!

School Anxiety

Before C was ever born, I knew I would be one of those moms that cried when their child went to kindergarten. I used to get stressed out when Adam had his first day of a new semester (though he was completely laid back and not nervous at all). When C started preschool I expected myself to boo-hoo a bit, but I came away doing pretty well.

And now, we are eight months away from kindergarten and the crying has already started. But not for the reason I would have thought. I am ready for C to go to kindergarten. I know he is craving more socialization than I can give, and academically he's ready. He counts, draws, cuts, knows his letters and sounds and is just starting to sound out words. But what is killing me is Jefferson County Public Schools (JCPS).

Don't get me wrong--I do believe he can get a good education at JCPS and be prepared to enter college. But their whole process boggles my mind. JCPS has what they call a "student assignment plan" where a school can only accept up to 85% of the kids that live around them...the other 15% have to be bussed from somewhere else in the county to make sure the school is "diverse" enough. So when you register for kindergarten you choose from your cluster of schools--a first and second choice from Group A, and a first and second choice from Group B. And then you pray that you get one of them for the three months it takes them to decide.

Sound confusing? Yup. It is. And then just give the top of that problem a nice coating of "special needs child" and you get where my tears are coming from.

We've also been working on getting C's IEP written, so I have been touring preschools, elementary schools, and special needs schools, talking to PTs, OTs, resource teachers, principals and making appointments all across the county. And when it comes right down to it the thing I've learned is this: all I want is for C to go to the school right next to our subdivision. Curse you, JCPS!!!

And here's the best part...as stressed out as I am now, I know that in eight months it will all be decided and C will start school and be gone from me from 8:45 - 3:45 every day...and instead of being stressed out I will be twiddling my thumbs looking for something to do. It will be the perfect time for a new baby to make its way into our family...but as we know adoption follows no one's timeline. We'll just keep our fingers crossed and keep praying and know that someday when that new child comes and gets old enough for kindergarten, we will know EXACTLY where the best place is to send them!

"Almost" Day

So why is it so much easier to post about the bad days? I guess there is something to be said for catharsis. So in the true spirit of catharsis, I present to you my "almost" day.

Yesterday morning I almost went to visit a Jefferson County Public Schools (JCPS) preschool. C has been going to a private preschool, but because he has a physical disability they have offered him free preschool on top of that. So I was supposed to visit one preschool yesterday...which I almost did but then we had a snow day.

And then I almost observed at a different preschool today...but then we decided we didn't have the heart to send our child to that school--40 minutes away downtown--no matter how good the school.

I was almost able to sub at C's preschool for a little extra cash, but by the time we figured out I wasn't making the preschool visit and called the sub coordinator back she had already found a replacement sub.

So I dropped C off at preschool, and then I was almost able to get done all the things I had planned to do in my 2.5 childless hours...but then I started emailing Adam at work about stuff and got sucked into the game of Spider Solitaire I was playing while waiting for his emails. I know, you can say it---totally lame. I promise I am not an "online gamer" but I think this morning I just needed to veg a bit.

Then, I was almost late to pick up C because I got this awesome ticket (first in like 10 years) a few months ago on the way to get him so I'm paranoid a cop is going to pull me over again so I go super slow.

Next, I almost lost C at the school. How do you lose a child who can't walk at a school full of teachers? Great question. He was in his manual wheelchair and I parked him outside the teacher's lounge door so I could run in and get his mobile stander. I left the door open so I could see him but a teacher came in behind me and closed the door. I might have been in there 25 seconds, and when I came out C was not there or anywhere in the hallway. Now I know he can move the manual chair himself, but he doesn't go very fast. So I started to freak out and was yelling his name, when his assistant teacher came out of his classroom smiling and pointed inside her door. I ran to the class and sure enough, he was "hiding" in the classroom. I really don't see how he could have gotten that far without a push so I assume his assistant teacher helped him hide, but you'll have to excuse me if I don't think it's very funny to hide a child from their mother. I did not express those feelings, but trust me--I felt it.

So I got C in the van and was loading the mobile stander, and I turn around to see his manual wheelchair, which I know I put the break on, taking itself on a merry journey across the parking lot, careening toward a parked car. I shot across the lot and grabbed it as it almost made impact. [At this point in my day, yes, I am starting to think the manual wheelchair is possessed.]

We got home, unloaded, and settled, and my sweet boy made me smile several times. Kids always make things better. And I was almost my normal happy self again...when the phone rang. It was the Medicaid office calling to tell us we were denied for the new Medicaid program we were having C apply for and have been waiting to hear about for three months. Definitely qualifies as "bad news" because it would mean a lot more things would be free. We will of course appeal and hopefully should be approved.

So, there you have it. A day of almost. And now, as I'm reflecting back about it, I realize that I almost forgot one thing that I know to be absolutely true...that if you get over one bad thing, another is bound to come your way because that is just how life is. It was, in fact, designed to be that way. The point is to find your own happiness in the middle of it all. So I better run, because I plan to "chillax," as C says, and watch a bit of Scooby-doo with him so I can look back on today as the day that I almost had a bad day.

Our Unplanned Fire Drill

When we were first married, Adam always used the buzzer on his alarm. I HATE buzzers...ever since I was a teenager and my parents made me use this alarm clock from 1979 with a buzzer that sounded like a rabid bird. Needless to say, I quickly won Adam over on the idea of waking up to the gentle sounds of the radio.
This morning I would have even taken the rabid bird over what I got. Adam woke up early and was in the shower, and C and I were snuggled in our beds still sleeping in the cold house. (We left the heat off last night and it got a little chilly.) All of the sudden I heard the smoke alarm start blaring in the hall outside our rooms. So, so loud...I swear I can almost still hear it. I jumped straight out of bed, and if the adrenaline from the alarm wasn't enough then the blast of cold air from throwing off my blankets gave me just what I needed to go racing out of our room.
As soon as I got to the hallway I could see the smoke, but I quickly determined our death wasn't imminent. Apparently, Adam had kindly started the fire in the living room when he got up to warm up the house...not knowing that last night I closed up the flue to keep out the cold air. So instead of the smoke being pulled up the chimney it just made its way through the house.
I started batting at the smoke alarm with a blanket, but being vertically-challenged I wasn't quite making it. After a few jumps I finally got the thing to shut off, but being in my half-asleep stupor it didn't occur to me that if I didn't stop it at the source the problem would continue. After a few off-and-ons of the alarm, I finally clued in to what was going on and went to shut off the fire.
About this time Adam finally heard the alarm in the shower and came out less-than-fully dressed to make sure we were all okay and take a few swats at the smoke alarm himself. C was also obviously awakened by the alarm and was yelling at us from his behind the door in his bedroom, the door I didn't want to open to let smoke in his room...unfortunately a week or two ago was "fire safety" day at school, so he was pretty freaked out.
A few minutes later we finally got ourselves together and got everything shut off, got dressed, and were snuggling on the couch with the doors open sending smoke out and 30-degree air in. Now I think I still smell like smoke and my toes are frozen, but I believe the smell is out of all the rooms in the house. And, as Adam said, at least we know the smoke alarm is working just fine.