Rough

We had a rough night. Too much going on. Ross had a friend's birthday party tonight, and it was fun but set us back a bit. Weeknight excitement can do that. It somehow became 10:00 really fast.

We got NO precipitation, which I hope you remember was properly predicted here last night.

Reid has a persistent cold. How long is too long? Why does his cough sound so horrible? Has he peed enough? Does he need medicine? Why am I married to a pediatrician but have no clue how to settle our worries about these kids?

This morning I woke up dreaming that we had all been in a plane crash. I was trying hard to find the boys in the aftermath, which was quite a drawn out process. I finally got to this Catholic girls' school in a densely forested neighborhood. After finally finding the lobby, I stood at the desk while the nun started telling me that I had to fill out a form to remain on campus. I begged her to help me find "my boy." I kept saying it over and over again. It was like Ralph Fiennes in "The English Patient," when he can't get back to Katherine because they think he was (and he was) a spy. Only seemingly more dramatic. The other weird thing: One of my future partners was on staff at the school. I'm not going to tell her.

I think I harbor separation anxiety. One of my goals (New Year's Resolutions?) is to make progress in the land of Adopting My Kids. I could at least try.