At this point, all I can do is wait. I am not a patient person, but this whole process has been an exercise in accepting how thoroughly most events in life are beyond my control. So what does one do when she can only wait for the governments of two nations to unite her with her longed-for daughter? I don't know how other people cope, but I shop.
I also do a lot of reading and research, but those things aren't as exciting for me to discuss. The book "Parenting Your Internationally Adopted Child" is excellent, and I'm quite fond of my new copy of "Simple Chinese for Adopted Families" (complete with audio CD), but there is just something fabulous about strolling the aisles of TJ Maxx and Kohls in search of adorable little girl outfits. My supreme guilty pleasure, though, has to be American Girl.
A little background here: I grew up poor. I was vaguely aware of the American Girl brand as a child, but I didn't really play with baby dolls and they were never something my family could have afforded anyway. My favorite toy was my three story cardboard and plastic 1980s Barbie Townhouse. Many a dinner party ended in Ken being poisoned and flung down the elevator shaft...
What can I say? I was an odd child with a vivid imagination and a penchant for reading Nancy Drew and other mystery novels.
At any rate, I came across a reference to a Chinese-American doll in the American Girl collection, a sidekick to some blonde named Julie. Apparently, the Chinese-American bestie, Ivy, is being retired, and this was a hot topic of discussion in the China Adopt Talk forum. Curious, I went to the company website. Depressingly enough, American Girl dolls are not made in the United States, but they seem to be of good quality, and they are quite popular. They are exactly the kind of expensive and elitist status items that my 22-year-old self would have hated, but my mid-30s, about-to-finally-have-a-little-girl-of-my-own self is entranced. I can't be with my daughter. I rarely receive updates about her. I can't even send her a care package until we have LOA. But, by Jove, I can buy precious little matching girl/doll outfits for her!
I justify shopping for a child I don't have by repeatedly insisting that I am only purchasing things that are on sale or that are great bargains. And, let me tell you, when that big box of impossibly sweet little outfits arrived in the mail, I was hooked.
Like this isn't the cutest thing ever.
Angry Driver was patient enough at first. But by the time I bought the seventh dress from Kohls and the third swimsuit from Crazy 8, I could tell that he was not enjoying my attempt at assembling a very premature layette. It started with not-so-subtle huffing, and escalated to outbursts of "But you don't even know her size!" and "We don't even know for sure that we will get her!"
I kept telling him the following:
1) I feel helpless. I can't speed the process up. I can't influence her life in any way or show her the love that I want to show her. All I can do right now is prepare for her arrival.
2) Angry Driver has had six years of buying Lego sets and geeky matching t-shirts for himself and Bean. The best I can do is a fair attempt at color coordination so that I don't clash with their outfits. He has had countless opportunities to relive his childhood in a more expensive and spectacular fashion with Bean. This is my chance to have a Mini Me of my own.
3) Kids need clothes. Yes, most of this stuff is manufactured in China and, yes, we can shop for her when we are in China. However, we will be so busy in China that I hardly think we will have time to search for such lovely purple kitty cat pajamas and little ruffled socks.
4) These things are on sale. Heck, most of these are on clearance. Clearance, man!
5) Don't you judge me.
Angry Driver did not seem moved by my rational arguments. However, I knew that the battle was won when he started looking at items on the American Girl website with me. We even laughed together about the adults who buy doll stuff, compose in-depth, serious online product reviews, and blatantly admit that these children's playthings are "Purchased For Self", rather than for a kid.
And so it was that, two weeks ago, we were driving home after visiting relatives in a nearby state when I spotted a billboard for an American Girl outlet store. Angry Driver didn't complain once when I asked to stop, although Bean grumbled a bit. They ended up not hating the experience, and they even helped me select a Bitty Baby book with an Asian protagonist. If a book light on plot can be said to have a protagonist.
Here is an example of one of our coordinating girl/doll outfits:
Fabulous!
Lately, I've been trolling Craigslist and E-Bay in search of more great deals. Today, I won an auction on an Asian Bitty Baby doll. Life is good.
This is what I've become: a grown woman who enthusiastically seeks out and purchases items for a child who lives thousands of miles away and who doesn't even know I exist. I know that she doesn't need fancy clothes or kiddy cult dolls or a ladybug swimsuit with matching robe or a princess bed with a slide, but to just wait and do nothing is impossible. This is how I build an adoption nest.
I've finally admitted to myself that this craziness is for my own benefit. I can make fun of middle-aged adults who buy expensive dolls and accessories all I want, but in my heart of hearts, I know it's true. All of these things are "Purchased For Self".
Don't you judge me.
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