Continued From HERE

At that point I had done absolutely every step in the process at least twice, due to one error or another, either on my part or the part of someone else, and I had simply had it. I was frustrated beyond belief; I drove the children home, in absolute and utter silence. I called my mom and told her of our struggles, I frowned a whole lot, and once we arrived home, and I was in the safety of my house and my bedroom, my eyes welled up from frustration, and I cried. No, not sobbing, I’m not that big of a wuss, but I did have tears running down my little cheeks as I stood wondering why everything in this entire process has been such a pain in the derriere. My adopted stepson came down the steps, saw my standing there in my pitiful state, and walked right over, wrapped his arms around me and just squeezed. This from the child who doesn’t like to be touched; he just stood there and squeezed.

He told me he was sorry I was so frustrated, and I told him that I couldn’t believe that it actually made me cry, and thanked him for the hug and the support as I wiped my face off. He smiled at me as said “you looked like you really needed one.” I did, and in fact it was exactly what I needed, and the fact that he not only knew it, but also reached out of his comfort zone and did it was so touching that it made me well up all over again. He walked upstairs and I heard him explain, in the exact words that I would have used, because they are the exact words that I have used in the past, to his little brother that mommy was mad, not at him, but just mad and needed some time alone. I used my alone time to search on the Internet for another location that we could process our applications at, and to my delight found that the local library, which is even closer than the now boycotted by our family, post office, could process passports as well. Excited that I still had almost an hour before they closed, I punched the phone number into my cell phone, and called.


The number rang, and rang…and rang. After about eighteen rings or so, the answering machine did finally pick up, only to say that it was not turned on, beep obnoxiously loud and then hang up. I called, probably about thirty more times to no avail. No one was answering, nor were they plugging in the answering machine, which was polite enough to tell me each time that it was there, but wasn’t taking any messages. I was finally able, the following day to make an appointment for Saturday at the Library, and we shall see if everything goes smoothly this time around.

My experience with passports thus far, has been less than desirable to say the least, however my experience with my adopted stepson, watching him rise up and give a hand when it was needed, and seeing all of the ‘me’ in him that has been instilled throughout out the years has been absolutely incredible. All in all, I would say it was all definitely worth that hug.




Click here for information/instructions on how to subscribe FREE to all of your favorite AdoptionBlogs!