Putting my binky where my mouth is, so to speak. I just signed up with an agency to investigate adoptions. I'm not promising anything. I am putting off major purchases for awhile though. Better to pay down my debt then get a sweet new Mac which, although not as drooly, is only half as cuddly. And binkys ain't cheap.
If you want to dissolve into a warmish puddle of tears go browse the NYC kid adoption site. Like one of those stray pet sites but way more serious. As in, they are severely traumatized yet adorable children with a positive light straining over them. ("Kayla is nine and loves the Spice Girls! She takes medications to deal with her moderate psychiatric disorders....has four siblings in other placements she would like to remain close with...reads at a first-grade level and really progressing with her speech and anger issues.")
Adoption websites are almost overwhelming. Ads for 'prospective parents' (not the adoptive parents but the parents giving up the babies can't help but give a faint anti-choice whiff to the pages. Means well, one would hope, but it is enough to make me uneasy about my pro-choiceness. I don't want someone talked out of doing what would be best for them so that I can blot drool from a tiny chin.
I'm a tiny bit obsessed with drool in case you couldn't tell. I'm a drooler. Watch me fall asleep in your vehicle and you will know this. I guess I'm surreptitiously looking for a family resemblance from the get-go.
The blogosphere is daunting. It's almost too much. From loans and financing to immigration to cross-cultural hair care.