I believe in a God who gives grace abundantly to those who need it. I acutely feel the need for it as I fill out paperwork to start up the adoption process for our second child. While I’m exceedingly excited and hopeful to adopt again, the process is an interesting, slightly tedious and detail-filled one. And this is where I praise God for being a God of grace. Because though I wish I had a really laid back personality, one that doesn’t feel the need to sweat the small stuff, I don’t. I tend to worry over the small things. Still, I believe God is in control of the Tredways and that He will take care of the details.

Here’s what is going through my mind as I’m preparing to hand in adoption paperwork.

Regarding the “Dear Birthmom Letter”:
Is my letter alright? I haven’t addressed it to anyone in particular; not “birthmom” and not “birthparents” because I read somewhere that a pregnant woman or a boyfriend of a pregnant woman may not consider themselves parents quite yet and they may find it offensive. And offensive is the last thing I want to be. So I leave “Hello!” as my opening statement. Good enough. But is the letter good enough? Do we sound like loving and devoted parents? Hope so. Do we sound like real people? Sure hope so. Did I include enough about our spiritual lives to interest a family of faith, yet keep it generic enough not to turn off someone who isn’t interested in God? Geez. I can’t please everybody. Good enough. Handing it in. But oh! Should I print it on paper with the cute borders, like the stuff at Kinkos? I don’t own any of that paper and it doesn’t really represent us. But what about catching someone’s eye? Surely I’d find a cute-bordered paper more interesting than plain old white. Stop thinking. Stop worrying. Hand in the letter.

Regarding the profile information:
What is Jeremy’s height? What is his complexion?? If he’s light-skinned, then what am I? (Freckled and pale just doesn’t sound quite right!) What ARE our hobbies? Do we sound too boring? Or too middle American? Or too (fill in the blank)? Would we adopt siblings? Or twins? What about a child with medical needs? How old of a child would we adopt? What if the birthfather used drugs? Abused drugs? Is mentally ill? What if the birthmother used drugs? Abused drugs? Is mentally ill? Would we still adopt the child? Questions upon questions upon questions. Answers, a few guesses, and it’s done. Ready to hand in the profile information.

Deep breath. And here we go! Lord God, we ask for your hand upon us as we await another child for our family.

Uttered in one let out breath: “I love my neighbors.”

While working furiously at her keyboard this morning: “Mom, I typing fast… like my big Jason!”

Does anyone run Book It! for adults? Okay, even if I can’t earn a free personal pan pizza for my efforts, I will read more books in 2008. Three a month is the challenge. I’ll do my best to post a few words about the chosen books at the end of each month. With that very public posting of a New Year’s resolution, I leave you behind, oh time-sucking brain-dulling Internet, and reach for The Zookeeper’s Wife.

So many puddles, so little time…

When I first became a mother, I considered myself a homemaker because I didn’t like the sound of “stay-at-home mom” and I was truly making the home each day. Sometime during the last three years, I’ve switched to using the SAHM terminology. The reason I’m home full-time is because I want to be here with Livia, ’nuff said. Some days I want to run for the hills and desperately long for time to myself, but still, when the longterm goal is remembered, I’m glad I’m a SAHM.

Sometimes, even after 3.5 years, I’m surprised at the tasks assigned to this job. They aren’t easy to distinguish at times (Do I discipline for that behavior or does she really just need a PB&J?) and sometimes I feel all creative thinking has vanished from my mind and the only thing left to do is pop in a DVD.

Yesterday I fulfilled one of my duties by taking a walk with my little monkey Boots. I make a good Dora, if I do say so myself. Boots likes puddles of all shapes and sizes, the muddier the better. And only once have I had to rescue Boots from the murky depths of a particularly boggy puddle. In the pic above Dora and Boots were exploring the old Zion lot where puddles abound.

I’ve discovered this little place called Facebook.

Maybe you’ve heard of it?

Christmas is over, people! It’s 42 degrees outside, the ruts of ice and snow are beginning to melt, my husband’s got the doors open while he washes the floors, and it’s 10 days past Christmas. It is officially time to put away the tree and take down the trimmings. (When I say “it’s time,” I mean that for my household only. Leave your tree up ’til July 4 if you want to!)

Livia didn’t want to take down the tree. I explained to her that when May 7 comes around (her birthday, a day she’s already anticipating) we’ll have to celebrate Christmas by going to a candlelight service if the tree’s still up. She then gave her full permission to take it down.

Now it’s time break out the Rubbermaids and wrap up the ornaments until next year. This is not my favorite part of the season, yet it’ll be nice to have a reason for de-cluttering. Bring on 2008.

I want to be a better woman this year, a better mom and better wife.