What Brews In My Head

It's been a rough month. When all else has failed, I tried to remember this portion of my previous French essay:

Alors, j’ai de la chance. J’ai une bonne famille et des bons amis. Tout va bien.

I AM lucky. I have a great family and great friends, so all must always be good.

Sometimes I wonder how I manage to be darned happy no matter what life throws at me.

See, in the last month I have lived daily with the actuality that Alex would be forced to leave the country by November 10th (deported, forced, has to take a jet plane...whatever you like). Immigration has screwed us over so many times that I can't even count. The last incident was that they wanted to send Alex to LONDON, as they messed up (long story). Then it was worse than we thought. We got a message from the American Embassy that we had to gather documents and then call them to tell them we had them so he could have his interview (the final step for his green card).

Problem: the number CAN ONLY BE CALLED FROM ENGLAND.

Another problem: we can't have somebody like Cookie call for us (and I know he would because he rocks!) because it has to be me or Alex who calls.

Third problem: Alex tried to email them that he was in America and couldn't call, but he did have his documents and could we have an appointment now?

Fourth problem: we received an answer email that stated, this email has been deleted because we don't read your fucking emails you stupid bastards unless we ASK you to email us.

Sigh.

So what do we do now? Well, after hours on the phone with immigration, we find out that there is another option: FILL OUT ANOTHER FORM, give immigration $1010 we don't have, and lo, we can have Alex not be forced out of the country on the 10th! Then we can have the appointment here in America...six to twelve months from now. Sigh. So we had to fill out the form in a hurry, pay a place to do a certified translation of two French documents they needed ($80 more down the hole), and overnight the application. Theoretically, they got it on Friday so they can't make Alex go away. He also applied for a Work Permit, which if they don't screw us over again, should have him working by February.

We are broke.

We have, thanks to the weakened dollar, about $750 per month I have to transfer to his French account for his student loans to pay back his in-euros loan (they make 'em pay 'em back in five years instead of ten, and they allow for NO personal circumstances to interfere with that payback time). We need him working. But he won't start working until February or whenever they give him the work permit. His green card won't follow for at least another three to six months.....

....but shit, as long as he's not deported, I'm ok.

Every night I wake up three to four times, stare at his snoring form, his smooth back, his strong jawline, his dark hair and light skin contrasting with a shiny satin blue pillowcase, begging the divine to not take him away from me. It's my biggest fear. I find the best thing ever in my life, and he's forced to leave. I hope immigration gets that paperwork and processes it and lets him stay. I can't take it otherwise, and neither can my kids.

Yet, when I think of how great my life is, I can't...get mad about this. It's hard to describe. I have a man in my life who makes everything easier. The kids are healthier and happier than they've ever been. We have so much fun. We laugh, we giggle, we goof around. How great is it that we've even had this much fun? How great is it that I have a man who is terrific beyond belief in my life?

I mean, my definition of sexy has changed. It used to be, bad boy, hot body, smells good.

Now, we still have smells good as an item, but more importantly is...doesn't mind changing diapers...plays chess with my six year old son for two hours and patiently teaches him all the rules...vacuums...mops...tucks in Ariana and Jared with a smile on his face every single night...doesn't mind being woken up at 3a for "activity"...cleans up the kitchen when I cook...brings me flowers for no reason at all...takes care of all the excel spreadsheets for my classes...gives me a massage every night....THAT is freakin' sexy to me! So, I have him. I will have him, even if there are roadblocks. My kids rock, we can pay our bills, and my friends are oh so supportive. HOW can I complain? Yes, immigration is being a butthead. But one day it'll all be ok! That's so much more than most ever get. I'm grateful.

****

What else is going on? Well, Ariana was the top reader in the whole school for the first nine weeks thanks to Harry Potter. And no, neither of us give a rat's ass if Dumbledore was gay. My son has to have speech therapy because he can't pronounce R, L, TH, and S correctly. He'll get R corrected easily enough, the professional says, because he says it right in the middle of the word but not in front of the word. The others will be a problem because his tongue goes in the wrong direction entirely for them. She told us it's hard work only that will get him on track. But you know what? My son DOES work hard on everything. He's so orderly and hardworking! It'll eventually be ok. Firepaw is still my baby, but Ariana is definitely a good replacement. She hauls the cat around like he's a purse...and he's ok with that...haha! He's got a tummy now because after neutering, he more easily gains weight. Both cats, though, are doing great right now (so's the fish). I guess you could say we're all fine here. There's the usual bumps in the road, but I honestly feel pretty ok with them. I know they'll pass. After all, the last thing left in Pandora's box was hope....