Saturday, November 15, 2008

Our Trip to Becoming Legal

For a long time there were only your footprints
and laughter in our dreams,
Even from such small things,
We knew we could not wait to love you forever.
Brian Andreas 2002 "Such Small Things"
This poem was sent out in the e-mail announcement that we sent that K- had arrived. In the days that followed, our schedule was filled with placement workers, social workers, and homefinder visits. We took K- to her first doctors appointment. The county requires that children placed in your care be seen by a doctor within the first week of placement and though it was literally right at Christmastime, our pediatrician's office was kind enough to squeeze us in on December 26. The pediatrician on call asked us what we would be naming our child. (We didn't keep her birthname.) We told him and he continued to call her K- for the rest of the visit. Then, he announced, "Congratulations! You have a healthy baby girl!"
I cried.

You see, K- was born cocaine positive. Her first mom had been in and out of jail, homeless and generally not making good decisions for herself. Again, we will be forever thankful to her for going to the hospital, having K- and leaving her behind with folks that could take care of her.

We had court in January. The county had been named K-'s temporary guardian.

We had court in March. In a turn of events, right before court we were called in to bring K- for visitation with her first mom. I admit that the prospect upset me greatly, since she hadn't attended any other hearing and I almost wrecked the car pulling into the facility. It turned out that she had a medical condition and had been temporarily released. The facility hadn't called the county to let them know.

We had court directly after. It was stressful and I had to go up on the stand, remembering what dates she went to the doctor, weight and -- REMEMBERING TO CALL HER THE RIGHT NAME! Oh, yes! That wouldn't have gone well! This hearing was for permanent custody, which was granted, but then appealed by the opposing attorney due to the lack of ability to hand paperwork in on time on behalf of our Guardian et Litem. Oh, was I mad. It wasn't until August that the appeal was overturned by the judge and we were under adoptive status.

Then we received the official letter. Her adoption day was December 20, 2004-- her first birthday and the last adoption day of the year! I was so excited! Hubs was at work, out in the woods stringing a fake flying bat up in preparation for their Halloween program, when his extremely pregnant co-worker decided to hike the mile back to tell him.

So it came. And so did the snowstorm. And the bitterly cold weather. We left for court almost 2 hours early for a half hour drive. I had K- dressed up in her gorgeous dress, snowpants underneath, hat, coat, scarf, and blanket overhead. I wore my dress with the Timberland boots and changed into heels once we got inside.

And I gave our friends wrong directions. But, they made it. Oops. I'm directionally illiterate.

But the day was ours. Given the funky weather, there weren't many of us. My mom came with us. My sister-in-law and niece flew in from Chicago and came with my in-law's. A couple of my friends and their babies came.

Then we stood before the Magistrate and were legally pronounced a family.
(That's Hubs, K- and Me off to the right. Hubs' mom is next to him. My mom is in the red next to me. My father-in-law, sister-in-law and niece are off to the left.)
It was a great day. It still is a great day. We celebrate every year her adoption and Happy Home Day (December 22.)

We are so blessed.

Happy National Adoption Day!

Other posts to reference about our journey to adoption are found under the 'adoption' subject on the side bar, but those directly related to this post are:

Thank you so much for coming over to read our story!  

Friday, November 14, 2008


We started our road to adoption at the end of March, 2003. We had talked to friends who adopted previously and told them of our plans. They invited us over for "Adoption 101." Let's discuss our lives over a pot of chili, shall we? That we did. They were great. Any question we had was never a dumb one. Then there was a clincher. "Hey, so the biological mom to two of our children is pregnant again. We didn't want to have anymore and we don't want you to feel obligated, but would you be interested?" Sure! So, they hooked us up with their homefinder from the county. She hooked us up with the initial class. You have to go to that, be fingerprinted and have a background check. If you pass that, they'll let you proceed. Can't blame them. Then came the class work. We were told that the baby would be born late August-early September. We needed to get on the stick to get these classes and coursework and general paperwork done.

We had something to consider in all of this (well, more than just this, but this was a main problem in our scheduling anything)-- my husband's work schedule. At the time, he worked for a park system that scheduled their programs 6 months in advance. Since they were in print, nothing ever got canceled-- sickness, weather or otherwise. You know what? God provided. The classes that we had to attend fell on all of the right days and Saturdays that Hubs had off. It was absolutely amazing! The coursework was 6 weeks of Tuesday evenings and a lot of Saturdays. Hubs had his CPR and First Aid current because of his job, but I was not. We both had to have physicals done, have a homestudy and fill out stacks of paperwork. We hit a glitch with the homestudy because I didn't have a big enough fire extinguisher and I didn't have an escape route posted at the bottom of the basement steps. (Um, we have a 1000 sq foot ranch and the outside door was at the top of the steps.) We had to have the fire department back out one more time and we were fine. Two days after our homestudy was approved, we got a phone call about our baby. Interestingly enough, we were just on our way out the door to pick up baby furniture at Babies R Us. Our baby wasn't due until December. "Expect a call from Thanksgiving to Christmas." It gave us some extra time to get a few more things ready and to take a few more classes (to get them out of the way.)

Thanksgiving came and people started wondering. I had been keeping somewhat close tabs on K-'s first mom via her record. I would call or e-mail back and forth to let the county know her whereabouts. You see, she had been in and out of jail for a variety of reasons. K- was to be her 7th child and she had somewhat of a reputation with the county.

We got a call December 18. The homefinder apologized that it wasn't the "it" call, but she wanted to call and let me know that she had a visual on K-'s first mom and she was very, very, very with child. Good. She's still on the bake. I'll never forget. I was downstairs in our basement making Christmas cookie boxes.

Hubs and I were spinning around the house that Saturday. In retrospect, I think that we were nesting, but didn't realize it. I had a cold coming on and felt kind of crubby, but pressed on and went to work that Monday. When I got in my friend, the staff seamstress, handed me a note. (All the while saying, "What the heck took you so long?") It was from our homefinder. I called and it. was. the. call.

Our baby was here.

Our baby was a little girl.

Our baby was going to be ours that day!

So there it was, three days before Christmas and I went dashing out of work announcing to my boss, "I just had a baby! Don't I look darn good?!" (Only I do recall not having said darn.) I wanted to tell Hubs in person. I was so excited that I pulled out in front of a car and almost got creamed. When I went in, I went as straight faced as I could be. I bypassed the desk. I ignored the questions that they were asking and went straight in. He thought something had happened to his dad. Then I told him. "We have a little girl and we need to go pick her up!"

I had gotten the message at 10 AM. I got to hubs by 10:45 AM. We needed to get back home to get the necessary phone calls. (We had no cell.) We had a flurry of phone calls from both the county and the family. I swear that mom would have rented the Goodyear blimp if she could have. We couldn't find Hubs' mom. She was out shopping for our new-to-arrive baby. Then we got the time-- 3:30 PM. We had one hour to run to the store to get our blessed little bundle an outfit. We ended up at Value City, which I have no idea of why. Hubs picked out a beautiful green dress for her for Christmas, because he told me the one I picked looked like a doilie on a grandmother's dresser. We also picked up a home going outfit. It was three days before Christmas and the racks were stripped clean. Hubs found an outfit that he loved. It was a 3-6 month outfit. It was tiny. How far off could we be? We scooped up a stuffed Moose, her Christmas gift, the couple of outfits and ran back home. (Let's face it, what do you buy a newborn for Christmas when everything you have for them is sparklingly new anyhow? Her gift was a home!)

Then it was time! When we got there, we laughed hilariously. This was the scene that we came to at the maternity room doors:
The maternity room doors were wrapped up like a big gift, and as we awaited the arrival of the social worker, I had Mark snap this picture. Our gift was just beyond those doors.

We went in. I distinctly recall that we were both just very quiet. Very respectful. We were doing jumping jacks inside, though. The nurses were so wonderful. They could only sing the praises of our baby. You see, K- was left behind by her first mom. For a variety of reasons, her first mom knew that she would not be permitted to take her with her, so she left the hospital 12 hours after birth and left her in the care of the nurses and doctors.

I can't tell you how much we thank her for that.

Then they wheeled her out. In our photo library, this is titled "The first time we saw you."

So tiny and so sweet. She was born 6 lbs and 11 oz. 19" long and just a petite little thing with ski feet. The 3-6 month outfit was huge. It almost swallowed her whole. It made everyone giggle, though!

But, we were in love. More tomorrow.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Hand, Foot and Mouth: The Update

We are thanking God that what K- had happened to be a mild case of Hand, Foot and Mouth. She had a scratchy throat Tuesday morning, one bout of vomiting and a fever from early Tuesday afternoon until sometime early this morning. Her rash that was quickly developing was completely gone when she woke up this morning.

We lucked out people. God smiled on us in our time of hands, feet and mouths. K- is back on track, though I kept her home from preschool for one more day. She'll return on Monday, but we did pick her homework up today so that we can work on it over the weekend. (Two worksheets and a 4 page "Little H Book" to read to the teacher next week.)

I'm so glad that she is well!


In celebration of National Adoption Day on November 15, I thought that I would give y'all a quick run of how we became parents. Yes, tissues are required. We'll start with baby number 1. That would be Bailey.

Hubs and I tried for almost a year to get pregnant. We were so thrilled the day the extra pink line came up on the stick that we could almost not stand it. Then my husband, in very George from Seinfeld fashion announced, "MY BOYS CAN SWIM!" It was a great, great day! For some reason, I remember the day. September 26, 2002. It almost seemed unreal.

Throughout the whole pregnancy, everything went fine. I gained only what I was supposed to. Other than a GIANT craving for pizza, all was well. I only had a few incidents of morning sickness-- maybe two-- so I counted myself extra lucky. I was pregnant and thrilled to be so. The only one thing that was of pain was my back. From about 2 1/2 months, it felt as if someone had lodged an axe into my back. If I laid down on the floor, it took quite some time for me to get back up. I didn't complain. The only three who knew were my husband, mom and midwife. Apparently, everything was tipped backwards causing the pain. It was fine. I figured that it would be gone soon enough.

I started having some heart palpitations, but knew that I would be going to the midwife in a week. I had been running all over work, so I attributed the overstress to the heart palpitations. I had also started swelling a little. My sister swelled horribly at 5 months, so I figured that I was just following suit. It also didn't help that I realized that the Spaghetti O's that I had been craving were just way full of sodium.

On January 24, 2003, we went out to dinner with my in-law's. The next day, my mother-in-law was going to Chicago to visit my sister-in-law and that happened to be Hub's birthday. We moved it up a day. No big deal. I had a pork chop and cole slaw. All was well. That is, until later that night. I ended up vomiting from about midnight or so until 1 PM the next afternoon. Hubs had me call the midwife. She had me go to the hospital to be monitored and be put on an IV. We figured that I had food poisoning. We figured wrong.

Upon arriving at the hospital, my blood pressure was about 155/100. They weren't so pleased. They got me in, had me pee in a cup and put me on an IV. I did bring up to the one resident that I had my legs crossed 15 minutes previous and that I still had a giant dent in my leg. "Oh, that would be from what is growing in your uterus." Okay.

Then the nurse came in. She checked my blood pressure again. 180/110. It was confirmed that I was going nowhere. In fact, not only was I going nowhere, but I had to be shuttled upstairs for re-evaluation by my doctor. I had been seeing the midwife, but at that point she handed me over to the OB of the practice. The little hospital that I was at was too small to deal with the magnitude of my illness. They had to pass me on. They wouldn't even let my husband drive me. They called an ambulance.

I was pre-eclamptic.

When I arrived, a not so gentle resident checked me out. I absolutely thought that she was trying to remove my spine through my more delicate region. I asked that I not be seen by her ever again.

They moved me to a room. They confirmed that I had pre-eclampsia. The plan was for me to remain in the hospital for a month. I was only at 22 weeks at that time, so they were hoping to administer steroids to build up the baby's lungs and deliver in 26 weeks. The plan was to sit. But, I was getting worse.

The first night was the only night that Hubs went home. I remember calling my mom at 4 AM. I knew that she wouldn't be sleeping. We talked and I was telling her how scared I was. The next morning the nurse had come in to take my weight. I had gained six pounds in water weight overnight. When they came to take my temperature, I had to cheat and take breaths. I wasn't getting enough air. I took my socks off because I was afraid that the circulation would be cut off to my feet.

They moved me to another room. Other than it being a private room, I can't figure out why they moved me. This proved to be a good thing, though.

My pastor came to visit. I don't know why we were talking about it, but we got onto the discussion of when he and Mrs. H- lost their first baby. He left and the nurse came in to check baby's heart rate and all that.

She tried.

She tried again.

Then they came in with an ultrasound. Nothing.

Then they wheeled me downstairs to the high risk doctor who confirmed that our baby had passed away. There is nothing more horrible than to hear that your baby died. Awful. But, I knew. I don't know how I knew but I did.

This was January 27, 2003.

The decision was made for me to be wheeled to labor and delivery. I was too high risk for a c-section and had to do it on my own. They gave me several different drugs to get things rolling. This was Monday at about 5 PM.

Tuesday came and my friend refers to it as the worse day. That was the day that my husband broke. My mom said that he was rolled up into a ball on the couch rocking back and forth just crying. Not only had his baby died, but there was a strong chance that I would, too.

The decision was made to give me a central line. My blood pressure was far too high (well beyond the 180/110) and I was heading towards heart damage. They did not have the time to give me anything to numb the area. They had to go in. It felt like they were driving a roofing nail through my neck. I was in and out much of the time, only remembering certain things and having had other things filled in by friends. I do remember the central line, though. My mom was with me as they put it in. (And accidentally doused me in Iodine even though I was listed as allergic.) My friends were outside and said all they could hear was me screaming.

It was finally on Wednesday morning at 1:06 AM, January 29, 2003 that our baby was born. A tiny little thing. 14.6 ounces. 11 inches long. No cry. No wiggle. No big fanfare. It was quiet. I hoped that they would be wrong. I hoped for a cry, but nothing. I remember asking what the baby was, as we didn't find out in advance. It was the little girl that we hoped for. (Though I would have laid money down to say it was a boy.) Bailey Madeline. She was our vacation baby. Her middle name was from the island in Wisconsin that we camped on. Having given birth to Bailey was supposed to be my cure. It was supposed to make me better.


I continued to stay in labor and delivery for another day and a half. They had me on magnesium which goofed with my vision horribly. I couldn't see. Apparently, my intense vomiting had broken the blood vessels in my eyes. No one had bothered to tell me that. I felt like a train had run through the back of my head. They ended up moving me to what I termed as the "old ladies hysterectomy ward." My doctor was kind enough not to insist on my being placed on a ward with babies. She asked and I said no thank you.

We noticed one thing as we moved. There was a leaf. A leaf on our door that moved with us from door to door. It turns out that it was a leaf for Bailey. It was to tell the hospital staff that there had been a loss. Even if they didn't read a chart, they would know. Hopefully, it would keep them from saying ignorant things. For the most part, it worked. There were still dumb people who said even dumber things.

After 8 1/2 days in the hospital, I was released to go home. My blood pressure was still out of whack. I had been thinning down from my massive 30 pound gain of water weight. It would take time.

Hubs took off a few weeks to stay home with me. My mother cooked for me. My mom and dad took care of all the memorial service arrangements. My mother-in-law came weekly to clean my house. Quietly, I heard her cry as she went. Like the rest of us, she just didn't know what to do with herself.

While in the hospital, Hubs and I had talked. We had talked again of our decision to adopt. We had decided to adopt long ago. In fact, we had talked about it in the early days of our relationship. We knew that we had been told that pregnancy was not suggested. I had a couple of blood clotting disorders that would most definitely rear their ugly heads again.

We just wanted to be a family. We wanted a little one with us. So, with the help of friends, we started our road to becoming a family.

With this, I will continue on our journey tomorrow.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Would anyone like a Hand, Foot and/or Mouth?

Why yes, we have cashed in on yet another one of the childhood diseases. Seems as though Little Miss K- has Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease, though Hubs prefers to just call it Hoof and Mouth. (An entirely different disease in critters only, thank you. He does it because he thinks that it is funny.) Apparently it is going around. Two families in the public school system here have said that fliers went home with their children. I have contacted the preschool and the church office. Wasn't it kind of us to expose them? Call us consistent! We exposed them to Chicken Pox and Roseola when K- was 1, why change our habits now?

The good news is that on the scale of ickiness, this ranks low. By far, Roseola was the winner with a 104 degree fever that I couldn't break for a week. Let us not forget 5ths Disease with the diarrhea for 6 weeks. Oh, that was special. Quite a test on all brands of diapers, too. Since I'm listing them out, I may as well mention that the Chicken Pox actually came from the vaccine. She broke out on Hubs' birthday and I had the once a decade illness that knocks me to my knees. I was sick, so was she and she lived on Goldfish Crackers for a week. Call me nothing if not a wonderful provider.

We're a very, very special lot we are.

Well wishes to all. May your hands, feet and mouths be disease free!

Works for Me Wednesday: Polly Pocket Containment

My item to share today is my containment for Polly, her friends and all of their insanely tiny parts. I mean sure, the sweeper loves the little shoes, but you need something to keep all of those rubbery and magnetic clothes together. I use a clear fishing tackle container that I scored from the local Walmart (or Walmarts depending upon your particular locale.)

As you can see, you can remove the little section things and make room for all kinds of Polly paraphernalia. We have a few sections with just the dolls, clothing separated into dresses, skirts, pants, shirts, shoes, purses, critters, critter clothes, hair accessories, hats, musical instruments, a few non-Polly things that like to play with the Pollys and the section with sections and a saddle. Does she keep them all this way all the time? No. She does keep them in the container, though. I told her that Santa needed to know that she was taking care of her Pollys before he would consider bringing her more. I'm pleased to say that everyone and everything seems to be accounted for except for 3 tiny slipper shoes, which may have taken a header down the heat vent when K-'s Polly box fell off the bed and upside down into the ditch (AKA the 18" space between the bed and the wall.) Frankly, my husband suggests that they just permanently mold the shoes onto their feet because they are the part that gets lost the most anyhow. But after you are done doing the anal retentive Virgoian separation of all their tiny parts, you can snap the box shut and look! It's a fairly skinny box.

Her extra McDonald's friends don't fit inside, but they hang out on the top of the box until the Pollys are freed.

Oh, and how are Polly Pockets as a toy? Personally, I think that they are great! I would have dug them as a kid and K- absolutely loves them. Girl o' mine will be getting this and this for Christmas. (Toys R Us had a BOGO sale last week.) She has the pool, so the boat should go well with it. For something that she loves to play with as much as Polly Pockets and the Fisher Price Twin Time Dollhouse, we think that it is well worth the money to buy add on's. Why not go with the sure fire gift?

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

You know that it's going to be a long night when . . .

You get a call from your mother-in-law, kind enough to watch your child two days a week, saying that "K- is sick with a fever and she vomited."


"So K-, what do you think that your number is going to be?" "Um, Mommy, I think that it'll have a one and a two in it." While I'll be, she's right. 101.2 F and chugging upwards.

"K-, do you want me to ask Daddy to pick up anything special for you on his way home?"

"Yes, I would like soup with a hole in it (Soup at Hand) and a toy, please. Daddy always gets me a toy when I puke. " (That he does.) Since we have soup without a hole at home, I told her that soup with a hole is a Chicago thing. That's a special Aunt Kristin thing. (I'm cheap, people.)


So, hubs will be searching out the local Wal for Sprite and a suitable toy to commemorate this bout of the stomach funk.

I'm thinking that work and school tomorrow are not in our future. But, I have a full pot of chili in the crock pot to keep me well fed! Well, that and soup without a hole.

Tales from the Trenches

I'll start by telling you that I work retail. This time of year it is holiday retail where we offer free gift wrap. I work at a great mom and pop owned art gallery. I've been blessed to be there for over 7 years. In fact, this will be my 8th Christmas at my job. I love my job, but this time of year it can be stressful. So, I've decided to start my own Tuesday theme day called Tales from the Trenches. I'll give you some stories from back behind the counter. I'm full of retail stories! You see, prior to this gallery rep gig, I did the same thing at an even smaller art gallery that was about 35 minutes away. I was there for a little over three years before they went out of business. And with that background, let me give you a fun story from this week.

We were busy getting the store ready for our annual Christmas Open House. When this happens, the store isn't nearly as tidy as what it usually is. Customers go into hunter-gatherer mode and press on. We make it walkable, but we are stacked high in boxes and baskets of merchandise being displayed. My story is from Wednesday, the third day in a row that I pulled 12 hours all in the name of display. I was covered from head to toe in glitter, was beginning to tire and was at the front-and-center WOW! them-as-they-come-in-the-door display. One lady came into the front door to shop. She was less than wow'd. She complained about the works in progress and told us that we should be doing this "after hours." I told her that we wholeheartedly agree and that we had been there the previous night until 10 PM. She then told me that she wanted to see "our resin jewelry." (We have 60 cases of jewelry between the two stores and resin is used in a variety of applications.) I asked specifically what type of resin jewelry? "The resin jewelry you have!" Do you know the name of it? "No! I've bought tons of pieces here." Okay, Julia is working with a customer right now and she might be able to help you find specifically what you need. (Julia is our jewelry display person.) "Forget it!" Julia heard our discussion and gave a suggestion of something to look at. I asked for case keys and the customer barked, "You don't need keys!" Okay. I took a deep breath, walked her to the case in question and what I heard was "This isn't even close!" I felt beaten and even more worn. All I could say was, "I'm sorry Ma'am." She said, "I AM, TOO!" and walked out of the store. She upset me. All I was trying to do was to help her, which is what I thought she wanted. I had gone back to my display and Julia asked me about what had happened. I was telling her that I was trying to help the customer find what she wanted, but she wasn't articulating what she needed and the more I tried the worse it was and that she was just "flat out mean to me." Julia was discussing how frustrating it is for her to display while being underfoot of the customers. She was saying about how she just needed to "stop it" and the customer came in and said, "YES, because she's right here." Um, Ma'am, that isn't what we were talking about. A regular customer who knows me well was witnessing all of this and stopped to tell me that she was sad that I couldn't have said anything stronger to her than "sorry." In the end, the woman did have me get into a case for her and she did purchase a pin. I did not sell it to her. I did not want to sell it to her. I think that if I stood on my head and spit out gold coins they wouldn't have been the right color for her.

Lesson learned. Even if I see a customer leave and go to the other store, it doesn't mean that she stayed there. I told our seasonal workers that. I told them to let me be an example for them. I was only giving an honest overview of the story. No embellishments, no nasty words but just that she had been "flat out mean to me." I'm thinking that the customer heard and wasn't impressed. Maybe it made her stop to think.

Be gentle to the retail folk out there. I'm not saying that we are always sunshining examples of mankind, but most of us truly try. Especially this time of year. We can only take so many people complaining, looking at their watches, throwing money at us and being just generally annoyed for so long. Please o' please, be extra nice this time of year!

Monday, November 10, 2008

A de-throwned Dairy Queen

While vacationing in September, we had been dipped head first into the Appalachia region of Ohio. This brought up different discussions regarding poverty and whatnot. This also brought up the discussion of not having many things available, that is outside of Walmart. So, on one fine 92 degree day, we were trotting along in the vehicle with air on high. Hubs makes a promise to get the child unit ice cream. I think to myself, "Now why would he promise her something that he is not certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that we can deliver, particularly where we are?"

Then it was like a vision. It was a Dairy Queen. We were all excited. We had gone the day before and enjoyed ice cream and M- could get a slush (now called an Arctic Rush and I dated myself by calling it a Mr. Misty.) I decide that we've been on the road for a while and we should use the bathroom first. We walk in and down an aisle the only way I can figure a bathroom is. We walk past what were freezers for cakes. There are no cakes in the freezers. The freezers are not on. They have some Halloween decorations in them, but they were filthy otherwise. Hmmm. So, we find what appears to be a bathroom, but is there a door? Oh my goodness, is there a door? Yes. I found it. There is a door. We go in and I plunk K- down and start looking around. This one toilet bathroom is a might weird. She gets off the toilet. "Mommy! The toilet moves back and forth! Look!" Oh my heavens me. The building is built on a slab and the toilet is rocking back and forth like it is withstanding Hurricane 5 winds. So I do my best to do the squat without actually sitting. "Mommy! Why aren't you sitting on the potty?" Mommy's afraid that she'll break it. As I'm concentrating on my stance, K- says, "Look Mommy! The wall waves! Look!" It was like a sheet of paper. I was freaked out, looking for holes that possible cameras could hide. There was no toilet paper. We had to use paper towels. Purell was my friend.

So, I shuttle young child out and M- is standing waiting to order. I told him that we were going to go outside and get whatever he wanted. "But I thought you were going to get ice cream." We'll see you outside. I need to talk to K- a moment. "Uh, mom? Weren't we going to get ice cream?" K-, I have to talk to you. I got her outside and explained that the restaurant was very, very, very dirty and that if we ordered something, I was afraid that we would get sick. Out trots M-, inquiring on my leaving. I said the same thing to him. If their bathroom was so disgusting and so were the freezers that they used to use, God only knows what it seems like in the back and I won't eat anything that comes out of there. "So you were going to let ME get something?" Yes, and I was going to throw it away. "Mommy, there were people eating things in there. Are they going to get sick?" Ah, baby. She was so concerned.

We didn't score ice cream that day, but she wasn't mad. I explained that I didn't want to make us sick and that was good enough for her. Thank goodness!

Any disgusting/concerning restaurant stories that you'd like to share? Keep the stories nice, please!

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Our last trip o' the year to Amish

We frequent Ohio Amish Country on a fairly regular basis. Every few months we take a day trip. We've gotten the trip down to our favorites, so we can easily do it in a day and be back by early evening. Today is our last trip until February, when we go for our anniversary. We went to stock up and stock up I did! We hit the bulk food store early. I was able to stock up on baking supplies for the upcoming Christmas Cookie Baking Bonanza that occurs every year in my kitchen. I even remembered to get Pearled Barley for soup! I've been missing it! We trotted through the stores in town and it was Christmas Open House Weekend! It was packed, but when you go to the chocolate store and find a BUFFET OF CHOCOLATE!, you know that it isn't such a bad thing.

Look at what I found for a certain little girls stocking:

(My husband is making fun of me for adding a sucker to my blog.)

We stopped by the Amish produce stand, where I unknowingly purchased a partially rotted onion. The money goes to a good cause, though. Actually, they really are nice people and I did realize that I was getting the end of the year stuff. I did score some broccoli and homemade Elderberry jam, though.

We tripped on to the bakery, where we got 4 loaves of homemade bread for 1.29 a loaf. My husband loves it and frankly, you can't touch the mass produced stuff in the store for less than that. I should also add that K- picked out some very rockin' chocolate chip cookies.

We had a really nice day. Anymore, it is rare that Hubs, K- and I all have a Saturday off together. We have Sundays, but right now they are kind of occupied by Festival Choir and the once a month leadership meeting. It was nice to get away, roam around and do a fair amount of window shopping, find some good vittles then trot on home.

After K- and I straighten her bedroom, we might even take in a nice family movie before bed.

Have a great night!