Preparing the House

We have finished preparing the house for the Fost-Adopt home studies. We will have two: one for DCFS (LA County), and one for the state of California. Here is the general breakdown of what we have done to our condo to prepare:

Installed baby-proof latches on all our drawers and cabinets
Installed safety device on the mini blind cords
Installed 3 baby gates (hooray for 2 flights of stairs!)
Bought/Installed a fire extinguisher in the kitchen
Found all the utility/emergency numbers and posted them by the telephone
Bought a locking box to store all of our medications
3-Story emergency ladder
Two convertible car seats

We also renovated our “spare room” into a full fledged bedroom:

Bunk beds & bedding

Dresser & Lamp

9-Cubby “cubicle storage unit” with 4 baskets (the other 5 cubbies work as a bookcase)

Multi-colored plastic bin toy storage unit

“Twilight Turtle” constellation night light

Elegant Baby piggy bank


We're pretty sure that we've been a little over-zealous with the preparations, but our theory is that it's better to be over-prepared than under-prepared!

For the State we've set up the fingerprinting for the 30th (which is also Jen's 23rd birthday!). It's going to cost $50/person, which is totally exciting.

For the County we've set up the first part of the home study process, which is 3 interviews: one with both of us, and one for each privately with the social worker.

The Dreaded TB Test

One of the steps of the application process, both for the State and County, is a physical and TB test. Basically the two departments want to ensure that we are healthy enough to physically take care of a child.

I hate needles.

When you’re a child and it’s time for your booster shots, your parents stuffed you in the car, strapped you down with the seatbelt, took you to the doctor, then forced you into the exam room while you screamed and cried. Well, at least that’s what my experience was like. It’s a whole new ball game once you reach adulthood. You don’t have anyone making you do anything. It is sheer willpower propelling you to the doctor’s office.

On my way to the doctor I received a text message from Jen, telling me that they have to draw blood to check our cholesterol levels. Two needles. Jeepers.

When I walked in to the exam room, I was very happy to see Jen sitting on a chair sipping water (her appointment was right before mine). As soon as I saw her, she stuck her arm out to show me a horrendous bloody bubble and said happily “It doesn’t hurt at all!”

Have you ever heard the phrase, “Liar, liar, pants on fire”? I was pretty sure that applied to my well-intentioned wife.

They decided to take the urine sample first, which was lucky since I had guzzled about a gallon of water an hour before the physical. I did my pee-pee dance all the way to the lavatory. Then they did all the basics: temperature, blood pressure, listened to my heart and lungs, and looked in my mouth (for what exactly, I don’t know).

Then the time came for the blood sample. I decided to lie down on the table because last time I had blood drawn I was quite sick, and instantly fainted. Even though I felt fine, I didn’t want to risk it. They used a “butterfly” needle, which is generally intended for children and is very thin, since I have such a tiny arm. As they were preparing my arm, Jen held my hand, smiling all the while. I looked at her, and said in my head, “it’s for the children!” I barely felt the needle. Once that was done, they did the TB test on the same arm. I didn’t look to see what they did; all I know is that it felt like something scraped hard against my skin, similar to when a cat digs its claws into you to launch itself at something.

Jen’s pants weren’t ablaze, but there was definitely a little smoke.

PS-MAPP Classes - Or to those who are new to this, Parenting Classes

Hello all,

Sorry for the delay in posts, we are quickly finding out that the adoption process takes up a lot of your time... time you would normally be spending doing things like, oh I don't know, writing a blog, or maybe eating a sandwich. I have just a few moments before I am off to class tonight, but I wanted to touch base with you guys and let you know what has happened since orientation.

Jessie and I have started our PS-MAPP training, which is a 6 week course that we go to every Monday and Wednesday night from 6-9pm. We have been to five sessions so far and find them incredibly informative and enjoyable. These classes are used as an information and selection process, and are not only providing us with all of the tools we will need to become prepared and effective parents, but it is giving our social worker the opportunity to sit with us twice a week and see first-hand how we deal with a full spectrum of emotions. Along with our social worker, we are also trained by a fellow resource parent who has been through this process before, and also a college rep who is incredibly knowledgeable on the process and what is expected of us.

Our first class, which was on April 6th, did not start out as a stress free experience. We had received our pre-registration e-mail the day before class started that stressed, in bold lettering, that simply registering for the class did not guarantee placement. The facilitators needed at least 20 people in attendance but no more than 25 to hold a class. The letter also stated that there would most likely be a line and that only the first 25 people in the line who had correctly pre-registered would be allowed admittance and registration started at promptly 5:30. Well, as you can imagine, Jessie and I took this very seriously. We know how much we want this dream to become a reality, so we figured that it would be a mad frenzy to get a spot before the class was full. This created a bit of stress for me considering that A: I work in Santa Ana, B: Traffic on the 405 is extremely unpredictable, and C: the letter almost made it sound like we should have been camped out the night before.

Somehow Jessie and I managed to get past any hurtles we had imagined would have made us late and arrived at the school at 4pm. To our great surprise, and relief, we were the first ones there. Now, with two hours to wait, we started to realize that we had made for a very long afternoon. Luckliy there was a small cafe close by which served rather tasty chinese food and we snacked on that while waiting for other prospective parents to show. At around 5pm a group of men started setting up in the conference room that had been designated for our classes. Once confirming with these men that they were not there for PS-MAPP (they were setting up for a police academy training), a new wave of panic set in. Was there a way that we had been waiting outside of the wrong conference room? Was there a huge line of parents waiting outside another door, claiming our spots in this coveted class as we sat there twiddling our thumbs? OH THE STRESS!!! Luckily for us, I still had the number of the woman who registered us for the class, so I called her to make sure that we had the location correct. She confirmed that we were in the right place and that the room had been double booked which apparently happens often. Soon enough the trainers arrived and pre-registration started... however at this point, there were only 7 people waiting including Jessie and me. As we sat there discussing how this day was already stressful enough without the class being cancelled and us having to start this entire process over again, a few more people staggered in, bringing out head cout to 11. Not until 6:03 did the 20th person sign their name on the sign-in sheet and Jessie and I gave a mutual sign of relief.

Since the first class, which had a final total of 21 prospective parents, our numbers have dwindles to just 14. This class is effectively executed and makes you really soul search to find if this process is right for you. Jessie and I, as I'm sure is no surprise to any of our friends and family reading this, are still VERY sure that this is exactly how we want to start our family, but I must admit that we have had several serious conversations about what exactly we can handle, what our true expectations are, and how we feel that this will change us forever. I affectionately call the MAPP classes "parenting boot camp" but only because they are an extremely emotional journey that force you to evaluate who you are and how you can help a child. I just wish everyone who got pregnant had to take these classes. If they did I bet there would be far fewer children in the system waiting for adoptive homes.

Our next leg of this journey is the homestudy, which will be starting shortly since Jess and I have already submitted both the state and county applications. We'll talk about the joys of preparing the house and the challenges of making sure everything we own is locked away, padded, or flame retardent. Thanks for reading and we'll try to be better about keeping you guys updated.