So despite the dragging of feet we have been assigned a social worker. Let's call her the Stork. So tomorrow the Stork is coming to look at our house and talk about I really don't know what. I have officially lost the ability to get worked up over "company" seeing my dust bunnies. I don't know if that is an age thing, but I do know my dearest darling husband cares even less than I do. As long as we are all in agreement I'm cool. Let's hope the Stork feels the same. Our house is not child proof right now, but we have made our efforts. On his second try DDH got the locking cabinet installed and we have all the kid locks and outlet plugs, they just aren't out of the packages yet. I admit I feel a little bitter about preparing for a child who may not be here for another year or more. Why should I break a nail every time I need to grab the dish soap when no child is in danger?
Bitter Betty . . . time for an attitude adjustment. I'm sure I will dream all night about my preconceptions, and conception, and let's hope this Stork can drop a baby in our cabbage patch soon.