As we began this journey, one of my best friends shared in my frustrations. "You need a license to catch a fish, but not to have kids?" he vented to me; and I obviously agreed. In addition to the background checks, the open disclosure of all our finances, the desperate search for pictures of us on vacation with no sunglasses; we were now faced with what has become the nucleus of the adoption process, the Home Study.
The home study is pretty literal in its name. This is where the social worker, in our case, the same stranger that interviewed us, comes to our home to inspect it to assess it's suitability for children. Initially, we didn't seemed concerned; the people that lived here before us had a baby (the room is still pink), and I'm sure the ones before them and so on.
I mean come on, I'm sure nobody inspected Abraham Lincoln's home before he was born, or George Washington's or Teddy Roosevelt's; and they turned out alright, right?
As it got closer, and the more we looked around the house, we started to worry. There was nothing kid safe about it. We have a dog that sheds, a cat that burrows into things, hardwood floors with a nail sticking out between the kitchen and the living room, and squirrels that run around outside (they're rodents, right?). So we did what anyone in our case would do, we went to Target.
We figured at the very least, we would do some basic things. Outlet plug covers are sold in the bag, and the little lock things that go on your cabinets under the sink were our goal. We were out of Mr. Yuk stickers at the time, so the lock was only way.
As we looked at these child-resistant items, we began to think; "Is this enough?" Do we need the whole room set up? A Crib? A stroller? Diapers? We didn't know. At some point during this process, we were reassured by my cousin, who also happens to do work with child services in the area, that we had nothing to worry about. They just wanted to see if our place was suitable for a child.
Suitable for a child? Just then the frustration bubbled again. I have been all over the world; third world countries, former eastern bloc states, even through Arkansas, and I have seen some dwellings that wouldn't be suitable for the vermin that infest them, let alone a child. But yet, there are children there. Who inspected that place before they had them?
As I calmed myself down, I told myself it was just part of the process. "It is what it is", as one of my favorite slogans goes.
As the home study began, we thought we would butter up our social worker with some irresistible goodies; grapes, cheese and crackers. But it turned out we didn't need them. Bottom line up front, we passed. Our home was suitable for a child, and we were complete. Now we just wait for this report to be complete complete and we would be ready to be parents. If only it was that easy.
I think I'll go fishing now. Oh wait, I don't have a license.
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