You will never understand bureaucracies until you understand that for bureaucrats procedure is everything and outcomes are nothing.-Thomas Sowell

A very disappointing day in court.

The birth mother moved. Social services knew, but did not share the info. DA tried to serve with official papers, but failed as the birth mother had moved. Neither side talked.

Case adjourned.

It does not matter that the mother signed off on rights months ago. It does not matter that she has no interest in the child, still. It does not matter that the child is in a stable, loving home, and has been since he left the hospital.

We meet again on July 7th. The process won't even start until then-and who knows if then. That means the court won't recognize J as our son until after his first birthday in September.

There are those who say this doesn't matter; he's in our home, and it's not likely he'll be removed from it.

There are those who say that due process must be served, to protect his best interests, so no one can come back at a later time to challenge his family-ness with us.

There are also those who will say this is a total waste of taxpayers' money, a waste of Social Services, Court, DA, & GAL time.

There are those who will say this is an open-and-shut case; the birth mother does not want the child, and we do.

I had a goal of not writing with disdain on the system too much, as this was the system that was giving us our son. For that, I am truly grateful.

But when a system will not unite a family, will not find ways to expedite the challenges that do indeed come up, and does not feel any remorse whatsoever that it lacks the skills and desires to do so-then, for this post, at least, I protest.

I protest, I protest, I protest.

And I wipe away the tears that fall on the head of my sleeping son.

The question is not "To be or not to be," it is what we should be until we are not.-Soren Kierkegaard

And tomorrow is a big step in who we want to be.

Tomorrow we have our first court date for J. From what I understand, this is to find 'grounds'; grounds to terminate parental rights, even though J's mother is voluntarily giving them up.

The next step will be 'findings'. Hopefully the judge will 'find' that J belongs in a good adoptive home-preferably ours, since he's known no other and seems to be thriving.

The last step will be the adoption, complete with a party at the courthouse and balloons and champagne.

All of this could be finished within sixty days-or six to seven months. Not knowing J's father puts uncertainty into the court system.

But speaking of thriving, our youngest is 'scooching'-getting around doing a form of an army crawl. He's fast enough to get into trouble, but not so fast that we don't have time to finish baby-proofing. He's eating more table foods-not a one he doesn't chow down on. He's getting a little Buddha-belly. And clapping. There's our update on his progression.

What we want to be is a family-and that's what we've been being. Our last task is to convince the court to acknowledge us as what we are.

There is no finer investment for any community than putting milk into babies.~Winston Churchill

A post script to Wednesday's post...

Whatever my personal feelings are about my life accomplishments, I do know solidly that caring for my foster/adoptive son is an extremely personal, total commitment to bettering the world.

This isn't about the wondrous things he brings to our lives; that would deserve it's own focus.

It's about what having him in our family gives to the world.

Hopefully...

It will spare a child from feelings of despair and frustration, and replace that with feelings of love and wonder with the world around him.

It will keep a mother from dreading the arrival of morning, one more day to wonder how she'll make it through, replaced with knowing she made a supreme sacrifice to better a life. (I have met J's mother several times; I believe she is a good person with more challenges in her life than I've known.)

It will keep one citizen from the temptation of crime and unproductiveness, replaced with, who knows? A vet, a composer, an Olympic athlete, a future President...

And what he will nurture, children like him and whomever he will lead and mentor into realizing their visions.

I understand that the diapers I change today are a part of all these hopes. It doesn't lessen my ache for other achievements, but it certainly is a solid something I know I'm living now.

Abigail would do the same if she had my options.

...I feel anxious for the fate of our monarchy, or democracy, or whatever is to take place.~Abigail Adams

Full quote:

...I feel anxious for the fate of our monarchy, or democracy, or whatever is to take place. I soon get lost in a labyrinth of perplexities; but, whatever occurs, may justice and righteousness be the stability of our times, and order arise out of confusion. Great difficulties may be surmounted by patience and perseverance.

What a wise woman she seems to have been. It is often noted that John Adams was most successful and at his best when Abigail was at his side, or when he heeded her advise. Even General Washington commented to her on how John looked to her for guidance.

She often spoke out for the rights of women. I believe that stemmed from her love of learning, and how her own education was not encouraged. She conversed on the classics and on current events with a wisdom that surprised the most learned men of the time. She longed to do do great things, I believe. She wanted to make a difference.

But what HBO serialized was the life of John Adams. (Great series, BTW.) Understandably so; he was the second president of the United States and pivotal in the development of us as a nation.

And so I feel a bit like Abigail Adams; capable of so much more.

She had the limits of the times that stopped her. I have much less of that. Nothing insurmountable. And so I wonder what is stopping me.

At first glance, it may be that I have no goal. Aristotle knew he wanted to be a philosopher and spent his life pursuing that goal. Jefferson knew he wanted to be a man of learning and was just that. Einstein's love was science and his life was immersed in it.

I love too much, perhaps. I love philosophy, literature, computers, management, business. I love art and music. I love gardening and creating a home environment. I love being a mother and love being with my children.

Anyone can easily see that no one (short of the Da Vinci's in our universe) can master all interests. And so I subject myself to the role of Abigail. I live in a time that needs leadership, guidance, wisdom, and can see visions of greatness for our land and world. What I do with my days is change diapers, vacuum (and consider myself lucky for finding the time to do so), search for grocery sales and clip coupons. I drive to doctor appointments, soccer games, karate practices. I clean up after the dog, and pet the cats when they cuddle as I feed the baby.

Nothing bad, by any means. Necessary functioning that I've chosen. I chose to be a wife, a mother, a keeper of urban zoos. But I know all to well that the vision of greatness gathers more dust than my bookshelves.

Yoga is difficult for the one whose mind is not subdued.~Bhagavad Gita

This week I felt good enough to go to a yoga class. (I go to Tosa Yoga on North Ave.) It felt incredible. I couldn't do all the positions, or do the rest of them as deeply as I'd been learning to, but it still felt good.

I went on a day different than my usual class, so I didn't know anyone there. It soon became evident that the woman next to me was pretty new to yoga. And she didn't like it. It was an altogether odd feeling to be so immersed in the pleasure of an experience, only to hear someone at the same time declare they hated it.

I love the awareness of body that yoga offers. To me, it just feels healthy. To feel muscles often abused or ignored respond slowly is invigorating. It's similar to sex. Sex can be exercise, repeating motions, focusing on the end result. Or it can be yoga, focused, aware, unhurried, encompassing all the body. I'm sure there are more things sex can be, but that's not what this posting is about.

At the end of the class, as we did our shavasna, I imagined the stress leaving my body, and fell into a peaceful meditation. Suddenly next to me I heard a growl. 'This is NOT relaxing!' I am still befuddled at the polar extreme between myself and the other student. And I still wish for her a less tense experience.

Regardless, I'm grateful to be in this class. And I hope to continue to be.

Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.~Mark Twain

I found that to be very true last week.

Matt & I joined Weight Watchers eight weeks ago. We started exercising again, he running 20 miles a week, me doing a little bit of everything. Walking, workout videos, weights, stretching, yoga. At the gym in DeKalb years ago, the guys there called me 'Gumby'; I was pretty flexible, and loved how it felt.

With the weight loss and the increased activity, we both have been feeling better in general. I've often goaded Matt to stretch more, though. He may be younger than me, but that means I should be able to offer him the wisdom of my years. Right? :)

Last Wednesday, after feeding J we played together on the living room rug. I had my workout clothes on; I was psyched to do a combo weights/cardio workout from The Firm. J got a little cranky as nap time neared, so I started to get up, carrying him. My lower back popped. I was blinded. A million 'I wish I'd have known's' to those who have had back problems.

I managed to inch over to the couch and lay J on it. Once there, I realized I had no idea why I wanted to get there. I could barely move. Ten minutes later I'd gotten J into his crib. I emailed Matt about my mishap(he's so rarely at his desk but always has his Treo), saying I'd call the doctor & let him know how I was. Two minutes later I emailed 'Please call me'. I knew I couldn't get J out of his crib, much less drive myself to the doctor.

Five days later, I'm much better. I'm not even taking the muscle relaxers anymore, just Aleve. I've walked twice. I may even try to work out again tomorrow.

The kicker is that I've focused so much on stretching & yoga to make sure I avoided all injuries. Matt does a few hamstring stretches a week. And who got hurt? It's Murphy's Law...

If you think dogs can't count, try putting three dog biscuits in your pocket and then giving Fido only two of them.~Phil Pastoret

Our dog Churchill was not allowed upstairs the first two years we had him. It gave the cats a place to escape. It helped that Churchill is afraid of stairs.

Once J came, we figured it'd give Churchill a whole nother layer of house to explore and find some companionship it. Now he only goes up when we call. He seems glad to be there, but just as glad to go back down.

Two nights ago, in the middle of the night, I heard the floor boards creak. I looked in the doorway to see if A was coming to us; maybe she'd had a bad dream. I saw no one, though. A few seconds later, I heard the familiar jingle of Churchill's collar. "What are you doing up here,Churchill?!" came from me. "Go downstairs!" I finished. I heard the jingle disappear down the hall.

A few moments later, I heard something else. A beep every three minutes or so, that was guaranteed to irratate my sleep. I asked Matt to go check it out.

Turns out the smoke detector in the hall leading to J's room had a battery running low. As Matt came back upstairs, he found Churchill-laying in Arcadia's doorway, facing out. Protecting her, perhaps?

He's not come up since. We sincerely wonder if he knew that sound wasn't right, and was either warning us or was ready to protect us.

Either way, what a pooch!