Update on “Ring, Phone, Ring, Part 2”

So we got the phone call about the twins on Monday, and quickly said “yes.” We thought we’d hear back an update the next day, but our social worker only heard back that she’d get a response on Wednesday. Come Wednesday afternoon, we were told we’d hear something today. Not really expecting to hear anything today, we were pleasantly surprised to get an update of sorts.

Long story short: we have a week before we know whether we’re getting these twins or not.

They’re scheduling a “Staffing” which is a meeting where our social worker, another family’s social worker, and the twins’ two social workers (I did not ask if the twins had twin social workers, but that would be cute!) all get together, talk about them, talk about us, talk about this undoubtedly unworthy alternate family, and decide our fate. Apparently, if all things are equal, they decide based on which family has been waiting longest. No idea whether they’ve been waiting for a longer or shorter time than we have.

Also, no idea if it will ultimately be just one other family in the competition (hate to use that word as if it’s a game with children as the prize, but it’s appropriate to how it works).

So after next Thursday morning, we’ll get our real Ring, Phone, Ring call back, and see whether our lives have been turned upside down or not.

Ring, Phone, Ring, Part 2

It has been over four weeks since we got a phone call about children available for foster care, since it looked like we might be getting a newborn named Abraham. At the time, we consoled ourselves that it wasn’t meant to be, and the next time, surely, that would be the one for us. Over time, though, it began to get a little frustrating, even though logically we knew some day we’d get another call, patience was at a premium. This week, I’m on a tight deadline for the game I’m working on, so I consciously said on Monday, “This would be a bad time to be told there’s a baby available. I bet I get a call.”

And, of course, I did. Yesterday, five minutes before a big meeting, our social worker called to tell us about twins. A boy and a girl. Ten months old, currently in foster care but needing an adoptive home. I said yes, and then called Ian and said, “Twins. I said yes. I’ll give you the details later” as I rushed to the meeting. Bless him, he just said, “Okay, I’ll be waiting.”

Now we’re waiting again to see if we got accepted. Apparently, they’re collecting case files to see which family is most suitable. It may not be us.
On the novel front, really enjoying the latest rewrite. After the latest person came back and said he loved the book but was confused by the relationships between the (vast) cast of characters, I’m cutting with extreme prejudice and simplifying the relationships so they aren’t cousins and nephews and nieces of my main character, but direct descendents. What’s nice is that having fewer characters requires the characters who are there to do more, so they’re all getting richer and more interesting as I go.

So between that and the game, I’m keeping my myself busy while we wait for the call … Ring, phone, ring …

Feckless Friday

Today, I went to the dentist, was informed that we would not be getting a baby boy we hoped for, and an agent turned down my novel. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon right now, and I figure the weekend has to pick up from here.

Rats.

Actually, the dentist thing wasn’t that bad. I switched to a different insurance carrier, so I switched dentists, to Dr Boris Shlayman in the Valley. I mention his name because so far, he’s been excellent. He gave me a temporary onlay – a sort of half-crown – which required drilling up a tooth which was half broken filling, half decayed to the point where he took a photo of the back of it to show me it had turned blue. Not apparently a healthy tooth color. Today was Take Your Daughter To Work Day, which he observes. I got to hear his daughter as she peered into my mouth during the procedure say, “Is that the inside of his tooth? Gross!” Absolutely no pain. He even gave me a topical numbing before the injection, so I could have dozed off during it.

Then I came into work and checked email and got the two unwelcome ones. The one from the adoption agency was particularly disappointing. Briefly, we had been told on Wednesday that there was a month-old preemie baby at Children’s Hospital they wanted to release at the beginning of next week. His name was Abraham. We immediately said yes, we wanted him, and our social worker hung up to talk to the county social worker. Three hours went by without reply, and then we were told she finally got a hold of her, and we were third on the list – behind a family who had adopted one of his siblings years earlier and a family who has been waiting longer than us. None of us ended up with Abraham though: the email told me that a cousin of his Mom’s – someone who had been ruled out as unsuitable before – had been given him. I sure hope that first evaluation was wrong.

And then the rejection from the agent. Well, rejection is part of being a writer … one might argue it’s part of being a person. At least, the rejection wasn’t a form letter. He said he found the premise “intriguing” but “there was not enough line-by-line tension in these opening pages” to draw him in. Something I might look at.

And now, let the weekend drinking begin.

The Pride of Hollywood

The Grand Marshall for Long Beach Pride? San Francisco Mayor, gay marriage advocate, and state gubernatorial candidate Gavin Newsome. The Grand Marshall for San Francisco Pride? First Lieutenant Dan Choi, bringing attention to the continued enforcement of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell despite the administration’s promises. The Grand Marshall for DC Pride? Cleve Jones, gay right activist going back to the days where he interned for Harvey Milk (he is a major character in the recent film). The Grand Marshall for NYC Pride? Rupert Starr, former POW and decorated WW2 war hero.

The Grand Marshall of our own Hollywood Pride parade, in these everything's-changed-post-Prop-8 days?

Chelsea Handler, comedienne and author of "Is That You, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea."

Risk, Repeat

Having a child is always a risky proposition. Having a child through adoption has additional risks, chief among them the risk that you won’t be able to keep the child you love. That’s true with private adoption or foster-adoption: the mother may change her mind or behavior, and a court may be called on to decide the fate of your family. It is the position of the California foster and adoption system that if possible, children should be with their biological parents. Perhaps that’s good for the kids, which means it’s ultimately worthwhile ... but that doesn't mean it's good for the nerves of adoptive parents.

We just said we’re not interested in taking on twin boys, a couple days old, born premature. They’ve got some health issues – one needs to stay in the hospital while his lungs develop, both had prenatal exposure to crystal meth – but they were so much exactly what we wanted in any other way, we nearly said yes. The problem for us was the risk of having the babies taken away from us, which was pretty high. The mother had drugs issues (obviously), but she was in a treatment center and had been there for a month. She had given up other kids for adoption, but she was visiting these ones in the hospital. The father seemed to be involved as well. All signs pointed towards a mother who had made some mistakes, but was on the road to recovery and was going to fight for her kids. Better to put the little boys in the hands of someone who just wants to foster and not adopt, to care of them until the court decides the mother is ready. We wish them, and the mother all health and happiness.

Damn, though. It would have been great.

Next ones we hope will have a risk level we can stomach.

Editor & Prey

I’ve given my novel to a couple different people since Thanksgiving for their feedback and suggestions, and as I’ve incorporated their suggestions, I’ve given new versions to new readers. My sister-in-law Kelly is the latest to read and review it, and in some ways, has been my most valuable editor.

Of course, that’s not to be dismissive of the feedback from everyone else, but they are all very connected to me biologically or romantically, so Kelly – as close as we are – is near as I’ve come to getting input from a Trusted Outsider. Besides being a great technical editor, Kelly gets a different sense from some of my characters and their motivations than people who have known me longer and subconsciously fill in the blanks.

Of course, Kelly is a sweetheart and all her notes are prefaced with, “You don’t have to worry about this if you don’t want to … This is just my opinion …” and then in the margins “This made me cry” and “I loved this part.”

Noel Coward said, “I can take any criticism provided it’s unqualified praise.” He never met Kelly. Because of her, I have to write a new chapter to my novel to support an alternate MO for the main character’s actions which was implicit but not expressed is given its due.

Nursery Sublime

As I write this, Diego is at work in our spare bedroom, turning it into a nursery. Since we don’t have a child (or children) yet, we don’t know the gender, so we’re doing it in various shades of brown, white, and beige, with bits of orange and red. I did the preliminary (rather amateur) painting pass, and hopefully when Diego adds the chair rail and the crown molding it will cover up the spots where my enthusiastic brush and roller went awry. Then, he’s creating a window seat in the bay window that opens up for storage, since what we have been told over and over again is that a nursery can’t have too much storage.

It should be done by the end of the week. Meanwhile, we’re reading our books (The Baby Book by Dr Sears; What To Expect The First Year; The Happiest Baby In The Block and The Happiest Toddler In The Block), going to meetings (Popluck Club in West Hollywood every month; online and group meetings with the Southern California Foster Family and Adoption Agency at St Anne’s), and getting earfuls of advice from everyone with or without a baby.

We are apparently at the top of the list and could get a phone call at any time. In fact, we got a phone call last week about a pair of siblings, a two-year-old and a four-year-old. We still have our heart set on a baby, so after a discussion, we decided to say no. We hope with all our hearts they’ve found another good home and family.

And I’ve begun serious work on novel #2 while I wait on word from readers of novel #1. It’s going to be a love story.

Now I have to figure out how to upload photos to show the nursery work in progress.