Rubber Room

Ever had to sit in a small office in an unpadded chair, opposite a clinical psychologist, and spill your guts out so some government bureaucrat can stamp your adoption application approved or denied, knowing her ass is covered?

No? It's just me and my family?

Damn, just my luck.

I had intended to post an update today on the adoption and what it's like to have your parenting ability and personality clinically assessed, but I find I don't have time.

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Because I have to go back...for round two. Another eight hours with this man (I'm refraining from any funny adjectives because I'm trying to be a good girl) and after another kleenex-clutching day, he follows us home.

That's right. You read that right. He's coming home with us. To watch us in action as a family.

I'm so hiding my vibrators and the duct tape I use to tape the kiddies to the wall.

I'll be back later, provided I'm not bouncing around in a rubber room.