I think it is because I posted this on my refridgerator...that I am now hearing all about how the CCAA in Beijing has worked a whole month to process 5 or perhaps a whopping 6 days of paperwork referrals. Since our paperwork is 22 days out from the last day processed it might mean I will have to once again return these...which will of course break my heart in two distinct places since they have little hats that match...
and trade them for something a little more wooly, as in if the
powers that be continue to process in 5 day increments that would push my girls out to being about 6 years apart in age rather than the planned upon 3 to 3 1/2 years apart. And certainly Muffin Man and I will be climbing the Great Wall in the deepest darkest days of winter rather than sunny spring. Which is all really weird because when we started this process in February 2005 we were planning on traveling with mittens and parkas.
Excuse me while I go eat this.
That took about 2 seconds and I am no closer to seeing one little adorable child that is destined to steal my car keys and go joy riding with some long haired disrespectful boyfriend in the distant future. Oh for the love of God, bring on my darling little heathen.
And, if no one is going to send me a referral in the next 3 months I need to know because I plan on spending some serious money that I don't have on a margharita swilling sunburn inducing week away from my home town!
I simply cannot take this "bun in the oven" is getting overdone feeling any longer.
Muffin Man just called from some up north state where he is busy selling studly tools to men who wear flannel and nylon baseball caps without breaking in the rims. I broke the 98% chance of no referral for us next week. You know what he said? "I wasn't expecting a baby next week." This is proof that men are indeed from venus, because even the barrista at Starbucks is expecting our referral next week. Now I have to go break the news to her too, fabulous!
By the way I'd also like to share that my next door neighbor has been able to produce no less than 6 kids in the time that I have been successful with 1 and the thought of 1. Those are wicked odds. Maybe I'll go buy a powerball ticket. After I take that stupid referral call guide off my refridgerator of course.