Starting today through Sunday, Husband and I are taking our required class in order to be able to adopt. This adoption class will be 8 am to 5 pm each day, which will be well-worth the investment of time and energy. The other option is to take the class a couple of evenings a week for several weeks. That would be challenging to our schedule – this is an understatement.
We signed up for the earliest class we could and made sure our other adoption requirements, aside from the Home Study itself, were completed. But since we have two children already, being away for a weekend is – another understatement – also a challenge.
It Takes a Village, People
Or in my case, my stone-cold awesome group of rag tag support system peeps that I call THE Village People. If you were around in 1996, then you’ve probably heard of the book, It Takes a Village to Raise a Child by Hillary Rodham Clinton.
In 1996, I was 22. I knew everything. I didn’t have children. I heard about this book and went, “Meh, sure.” After I actually taught kids in elementary school for awhile and then had kids of my own, I changed my tune significantly – as in, AB-SO-FRICKIN-LUTE-LY it takes a village to raise a child, DUH.
Case in point. Here’s the email I sent out a couple of weeks ago:
I need to ask for help on the weekend of the 19th during our adoption class. It’s three days – Friday 1/18 through Sunday 1/20, from 8 to 5 each day.
I think they can just go to the neighbor’s house on Friday afternoon after school. My question is, can anyone watch or team up to watch them from Saturday morning through Sunday around 5 p.m.?
Do you know how many emails I had to send out after that?
Why? Because THE Village People took care of it and then cc’d me on the breakdown of where the kids would go and when and how they would get there.
There WAS One Complaint
In the flurry of emails back and forth among THE Village People did, unfortunately, lead to one complaint. Want to know what it was?
In all of the planning, one person got left out of spending time with my kids. “Wait!” she said. “I want to have a block of time with them for a play date too!”
So there was a little reshuffling and it was all taken care of – without my input.
It’s a Cold, You’re Not Dead
I gave up aspartame and other artificial sweeteners (mostly in the form of Diet Coke) on January 1st. By the 3rd, I was sick and have been ever since.
It started with some intestinal thing, which I pretty much expected but then morphed into a bad head cold that Husband introduced. I got the fever and whatnot, which spread to Youngest. This leaves Oldest as the one question mark: WILL he get sick with this? And WHEN?
I started to panic on Wednesday, as Youngest and I lay on the couch watching cartoons and totally miserable. I could feel the snot in my head trying to decide whether to leave or stay for some extended sinus-infection time. I asked for prayer on – where else? – Facebook, and called one of THE Village People, crying. Because I REALLY wanted to take this class this weekend.
“So your kids may be sick,” she said. “We’ll put them in a bed and take care of them. It’s a cold, you’re not DEAD.”
I laughed so hard I peed my pants (just a little, mind). And cried a little too. Because THE Village People take care of us. And there are just not words good enough to express how grateful I am.
Take a minute to appreciate your own Village People RIGHT. NOW.