July 19, 2006
So yesterday was our 10th anniversary. I suppose that should bring me a sense of happiness or accomplishment, but mostly it makes me feel old. Can I really be old enough to have been married for 10 years? Yesterday was also a big day on our adoption journey, and I’ll go into more details in a minute, but part of it included applying for a passport. I looked at the passport pictures and thought, “wow, do I look old.”
And just as bad, or maybe worse, is that I act old. My parents say I was born old. When I was a teenager my mother actually told me that I didn’t talk on the phone enough! I am not making that up. When I was of marrying age my father told me maybe I needed to think about lowering my standards for men. Seriously.
So our 10th anniversary rolls around and I actually would love to take a trip to New York City or somewhere without the kids, but what do we do? Well, here you go:
11:00 am : I start some bread dough in the bread maker to make sandwich rolls for the dinner I’m going to take to a friend later that evening. She was 13 weeks pregnant and lost the babies (triplets — without fertility drugs!).
11:20 am : Husband leaves work early so we can get some things done.
11:50 am : Husband gets home, we all eat lunch then I have him take those old-looking passport photos of me so that I can go apply for a passport. He then immediately gathers the two youngest children and tries to leave to accomplish his errand. I make him stay to help me figure out how to resize and print out my hag pictures because the photo software I’ve used for years no longer works. He begrudgingly stays — I’m impeding his success and robbing him of yet another opportunity to show just how much more efficient he is at getting things done than I am.
1 pm : Husband takes the three-year-old and one-year-old and leaves for the BMV. He has to go register my Suburban, which we bought back in March or April, because I was pulled over the night before for driving with “counterfeit” tags. That’s right, no speeding, no running a red light, no illegal lane change — just because my plates were registered to our old mini van. I had no clue — that kind of stuff is just not my job.
1:15 pm : I take the 8-year-old and 6-year-old and head to the post office with my aged likeness and filled out forms. I stand in line until 1:45 before it’s my turn, at which point they tell me they’ll have to get someone from the back to come out and help me. It’s funny that I even need a passport, because I will not be traveling, but to adopt from Vietnam you need a passport, regardless.
1:45 : Husband calls to check on my progress and brag about his. I tell him I’m still waiting to be helped. He offers to drive straight to the post office to pick up the older two because they have to be at piano lessons in 15 minutes.
2:15 pm : I am finally leaving the post office, now with the two younger kids in tow since we swapped in the middle of taking care of my passport application. We hit the UPS store to express mail my marriage certificate to the great state in which we got married so that they can affix some seal and make $2.00 and I can put it in our adoption dossier.
2:30 pm : I take the kids home for a snack and potty break and for the chance to bake the sandwich rolls.
3:15 pm : I pack the little ones back into the Suburban to be at the bank by 3:30 so that I can meet with our social worker to have the final homestudy notarized and in my grubby (old) hands. Husband meets me there and I send him home with all the kids and we, once again, swap cars.
3:45 pm : I leave the bank and hit the grocery store to buy a few needed ingredients for the sandwiches I’m taking to my friend.
4:30 pm : I get home, make dinner for the kids and start assembling the dinner for the other family. Husband pays bills.
6:30 pm : My dad comes to baby sit. We drop off the dinner to the friends and go to a casual (though not fast food) restaurant. Husband gets called by work and I have to order for us both and listen to his side of a conversation that makes no sense to me for about 10 minutes (meaning the conversation lasted about 10 minutes — it never made sense to me).
7:30 pm : We go to the theater where the guy behind the ticket counter asks if we qualify for any student or military discounts. It almost makes me feel younger, until I hear him ask the 50-something guy behind us the same question.
7:45 pm : We begin the arduous task of sitting through the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. We loved the first one, but this one not so much.
10:30 ish pm : We get home, thank my dad, and have the conversation we have every year: “Next year on our anniversary, let’s do something fun. Not just a movie, but something really fun.”
I used to be fun, but wow has it been a long time. So, I’m a little rusty on the fun thing. Any ideas? Please, before I get old.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.