Meeting #1

Well, our first training meeting was last night. And, contrary to the warning we received from some friends, I did not cry. I did come close, though, on two occassions.

The first was when our instructor walked in 15 minutes after class was supposed to begin, put down the unfinished booklets, looked around and said, "There are supposed to be more couples here. We'll wait for them." Then she walked out of the room. Actually, my inner corporate trainer did cry, just a little.

The second near-tear event was more serious, as she was telling the story of a brother & sister pair who didn't want to go back to their foster family after visiting with the potential adoptive family. Needless to say, none of the foster families we know are this bad (and fostering friends keep coming out of the woodwork: "Oh yeah, we're foster parents too!" is a common email subject heading these days. God bless y'all, but you are all crazy.)

And so, no tears after session 1. The other sessions may turn out differently. On session 3 we get fingerprinted, and on the last session we have a CPR class. I'm not looking forward to either of those. But I wasn't looking forward to the "get to know each other/break the ice" game either, but that turned out well enough. There was a couple named Ken & Teri (sp?) who are looking to adopt a 5 year old or younger, and another couple named Jim & Susan who are looking to adopt a teenager (they have 3 already, and are apparently as disturbed as I am by having an odd number of children).

Along with our book (really a 3 ring binder) for the course, we also got a similarly sized stack of application forms to fill out. It's at least 100 pieces of paper, some double-sided. Knowing my handwriting, my wife had volunteered to help me fill them out. But then she saw the stack and gave me a look that said, "You're on your own."

Oh, well. Keeping the goal in mind, etc.

My Mom, brave woman, kept the boys, plus an extra. One of Stephen's friends came over to spend the night last night (their school is out for a workday today), and so my poor dear Mother had to deal with an extra 7 year old. She handled it very well, of course, and the boys behaved excellently, all things considered. The 6 of them did manage to put away 2 Freschetta pizzas, which worries me and my wallet immensely. Sam and Jonah apparently had pizza for dessert. But 2 pizzas, gone? Oy.

I don't know who the lucky person is who'll get the boys next week, but slots are still available in April. If you register early, I may throw in a free CD. It'll be a random title, one that I pick up off my office floor. But it'll be all yours in all its cat hair covered splendor.