And more appointments.
And more meetings.
We narrowed down an attorney who will finalize Olivia's adoption [YAY!] and met with his assistant [also an adoptive Momma!] for the first time.
In between our appointments, we grabbed a bite to eat for a late lunch.
I love those days...
She's going through this phase of "stancing" where she likes to stand and dance kick her feet.
So picture this:
I've got one arm holding her up on my leg while she's "stancing," and my other is shoveling salad in my mouth.
As I'm crunching on a crouton, I hear this woman from across the restaurant
"DID YOU ADOPT HER?"
I crunched my already crunchy crouton louder.
I looked up at rolled my eyes up from my salad to Chris.
He looked at the woman and nodded his head with a half smile / half what-the-heck-are-you-yelling-for type of look.
"What's her name?" she asked politely yelled.
"Olivia," I said with remnants of that crunchy crouton in my mouth.
"Where's she from?" she asked yelled again.
"Texas," I said, fully anticipating she'd make a comment like, "Oh, I figured she'd be from Africa..."
but thankfully, she didn't.
Some days I just want to stand up and say:
YES, THIS IS MY DAUGHTER.
YES, I KNOW SHE IS BLACK AND WE'RE WHITE.
YES, YOU CAN STOP STARING NOW.
The fact of the matter is this:
If I see a family with kids at a restaurant, I don't ask them how they were born.
I don't ask things like, "Did you give birth naturally? Or with an epidural? Vaginally or a C-Section?"
Those would be an awfully strange questions, don't ya think?
It's similar to people -- strangers -- asking us questions about Olivia, if we adopted her and why we adopted her.
Do those same people ask other moms and dads, "Why did you get pregnant?"
Please -- swoon over my daughter and love on her all you want, but don't
I love talking about our sweet lil' gal and the day we laid eyes on her, but next time just come over to our table and talk about how cute she is first ;-)