Tonight we went to our foster/adoption orientation meeting at DFACS. There was one other couple there that I spent a lot of mental energy pitting myself against.
When we got home Birch and I had to go through a mountain of paperwork where they wanted to know everything I've ever said, done, felt or bought. I think I may have answered the question of who I kissed in my first game of spin the bottle.
We get to the end and there is a three page checklist of special needs that you will or won't consider taking. By the middle of the third page, I was laughing in a manic, drool-forming, head on the table kind of way. It is the most surreal experience, shopping for a child in this way. It felt really wrong. We'd listed a reason we want to adopt as "wanting to add to our family in the spirit of adoption in the same way we've been adopted by Christ Jesus", yet two pages later, we admit that we don't want a fire setting, stealing, profoundly retarded, transgender prostitute.
Last night I had a dream we picked a child out of a vending machine. No Freudian translation needed.
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