I know, it’s horrifying to me too… those tiny little containers hardly have any ice cream in them. A thrifty, Brethren gal like me would normally steer clear, but it seems like the kind of outrageous splurge that girls are supposed to make when we get dumped. It’s in all the movies. And who am I to question pop culture?
I never actually went out with that special boy. I didn’t work up the courage to talk to him and I didn’t ask him to the dance. I didn’t even know his name. But I wanted to be his Mom.
About three weeks ago our social worker e-mailed us some information about him and we were intrigued. He could be “the one”. Even Glen was excited about the possibility – his emotions when it comes to adoption usually range from tolerance to mild acceptance. This seemed like such a good match.
She passed our homestudy along and we were being considered. It was early days – we knew that. We were flirting with the possibilities, not making plans. We didn’t even tell our kids about it.
But I started to imagine a jungle themed bedroom. And I may have peeked at the “boys” section in Wal-mart, something I’ve only ever done for nephews and friend’s children. I opened my heart up, just a little bit.
So when they chose another family we weren’t devastated, but we sure are disappointed. I wonder if we will lose a little piece of our heart each time. Because this is how it works. It’s like a bizarre dating service with extensive questionnaires, personality profiles and government appointed yentas (a.k.a – social workers) trying to find the perfect match between child and family.
So here’s us, still waiting for that special someone.