Sick of Paperwork

Z and I took a little trip to the Social Security office to get him a number. As tax day looms ever closer, I realized I was cutting it a bit close and needed to get this errand done. Unless you have been through an international adoption, I don't think I can accurately describe the amount of paperwork involved. Z has been with us almost a year, and I am still not finished. Nevertheless, we braved the waiting room, took a number, and proceeded to devote ourselves to waiting. My first sharp intake of breath occured on the application form itself. I, as the parent, had to sign my name and check that I was either the "natural or adoptive" parent. If you didn't already know, using the term "natural" is a huge no-no. Completely insulting to adoptive families. Next was the not-so-nice government employee who berated me for not knowing exactly where Zinabu was born. I told her, "Gee, it would be wonderful for us to know that, but we don't." She gave several exasperated sighs as she clicked away on her computer. I would have thought that leaving fields blank on her form would have been less work for her, but she acted awfully put out. And to top it off, we haven't filed for Z's certificate of citizenship yet (gee--could it be the almost $600 it costs to do it that is holding us back?), so this card only shows Z's alien status. We'll have to get an updated card after his citizenship paperwork is done. It reeeaaallly irks me that our legally adopting him doesn't make him a citizen. Just rotten. And one more point before I get off my soap box! If you are particularly angry about "illegal aliens" in our country, then YOU try navigating the crazy amounts of paperwork--that make NO sense--in another language. I can't even figure them out and English is my first language. Geesh.

So we came home and I let Zinabu ride his bike inside because THAT'S THE KIND OF MOM I AM!