Social (In)Security, Part II

We made it to the two week mark, and no Social Security card arrived for Micah. Quelle suprise.

Today Micah and I had a full schedule: we dropped Thea off at school, ran down to Hamilton to the Delcrest Medical Supplies to get a new battery for my oto-ophthamoscope, went to D-n-D for a life-sustaining cup of coffee and then went back to Thea's school at 10:30 for a presentation to the first- and second-graders on health, then running up Route 1 to Gymboree for Micah's first Baby Signs class (he thoroughly enjoyed being there, but so far the signing is more for me than him), and once done there, on to Kennections to get my grey banished. Once I was back to being a brunette, my choice was pick up Thea at school or run down to Social Security to see if there was a problem with Micah's application. Bureaucracy won.

No problem. I got the number, printed on a paper sheet, so I'm semi-happy.

But I was told to give it until October 12th before checking again if the actual card doesn't arrive, and it will take another trip down there since none of this is done via phone or email. And if it's going to take a month, then tell me at the start - the letter given on the day we first applied said two weeks. Thea's card, although needing fixing, arrived in six days or so. Is it any wonder why I have to take medication for my blood pressure?

By October 12th, if the Social Security card hasn't arrived, I am going to be way too busy with preparations for Thea's 4th birthday celebration: cupcakes to be baked and decorated, party bags to be made up, presents to be wrapped. And that day her school is going on a field trip to Von Thun Farm, so even though she's usually home with me that day, we're going on the excursion.

Social (In)Security

Micah and I went to the Social Security Administration office in Trenton yesterday. I was going to try out the one in New Brunswick, but since Thea and I had already been to the one on South Clinton Avenue in Trenton, I decided to stick with the familiar. Fortunately for us, at 10 am on a Monday morning the computer spat out a ticket telling us our number in the queue was 84 and the counters above the windows said that 81 was being helped. We came armed with just about every piece of paperwork that has been accumulated since Micah's adoption: his Chinese passport, our passports, his Certificate of Citizenship, birth certificate translation, adoption certificate (original and translation), you name it.

Once our number was called, we went to the window of a very nice clerk, one who had never in her life processed an application of an internationally adopted child. I am hoping that this works in my favor, because last time for Thea's application, I got a veteran who told me I was the best prepared person she had ever worked with. And then Thea's Social Security card came with "Resident Alien: Ineligible for Employment withouth DHS Approval," and when I read that I thought my head was going to explode. Because SSA does not correct its mistakes over the phone, getting a plain, unannotataed card took another trip into Trenton to mix once again with the cream of society. The clerk asked if Micah had a US passport - which needs a SSN, at least according to the application I picked up while at the post office on Saturday.

Did you know that you are only entitled to ten replacements per lifetime of your Social Security card? I wonder what happens if someone is so unfortunate as to need #11?

While the clerk and I were sorting things out (she actually got her supervisor to check her work and my documents), Micah was busy pushing his umbrella stroller back and forth behind me. This caught the attention of three dingy blond, pork rind snarfing harpies who were sitting together and commenting on everything in voices that could broadcast to foreign countries without amplification. Another suburban-ish mom was there to apply for a SSN for her baby, and the harpies were on her case with "Look, she doesn't even know how to carry a baby carrier." Baby was happy, baby's mother looked like she was managing fine, why can people just put their tongues and dentures in neutral and shut the heck up?

Meanwhile back at our window, the clerk didn't include Steve's SSN on Micah's application even though I had written it on the application so I was trying to get that fixed when Micah pulls the stroller over/on top of him. I didn't even hear him fall - which is a good thing because when his head hits the floor there usually is a sickening thud and he starts crying, neither of which happened. But the harpies had a fit, telling me he could have split his head open, I should watch him, blah, blah, blah. Oh, go bite me on my cellulitic pink tushie. But I was a good person, who merely told them that I didn't comment on how they took care of their children so I would prefer they keep their comments to themselves regarding how I was taking care of mine. Not the brightest thing to do, pissing off three white-trash Trentonians, but their numbers in the queue were in the upper 80s and it was unlikely that they would give up their place in line even for the pleasure of beating the snot out of me, so I figured I could make my exit with nothing to fear - and even with bad knees and pushing a stroller, I could probably out run them, too.

So in two weeks, or so the clerk promised, Micah should have his Social Security card. We'll see if it's done correctly the first time. And then I have to decided which of the next rings of paperwork hell I am going to take on: Micah's passport or the New Jersey birth certificate. I think it will probably be the birth certificate, because the office that processes that makes copies of all the documents; for the passport, I'll have to surrender the one and only original of his Certificate of Citizenship and an original of his Chinese birth certificate and adoption certificate. An article on CNN says the passport crunch is over, but the thought of sending those things off into the void makes me a little nervous. The New Jersey birth certificate will give him a one page birth certificate instead of the six-page booklet of translations, certificates and notarizations.

Audiogram & 3rd Anniversary of Thea's Adoption

I'm adding another post keep those of you who have no cable TV, hobbies or social life, or those who have an extremely low threshold for entertainment, updated. Micah had his audiogram at JFK Rehabilitation Institute in Edison (what a miserable drive, everything I hate about roads in NJ and then some).

The test itself turned out pretty well, after being kept in a sound proof room that was about as warm as Hell's antechamber. He got so warm, I had him stripped down to a t-shirt and diaper by the time the appointment was over. As expected the decibel range covered by air conduction was nil (no ear canals, duh), but once they bypassed the structural abnormality, the bone conduction ranges were fine - so a bone-conduction hearing-aid for starters. I'm inclined to do the least invasive for now, the hearing aid, pending hearing from whatever surgeon is going to deal with the surgery later on - sometimes doing the pins for a BAHA (bone-anchored hearing aid) or cochlear implant will preclude future work on the reconstruction of the auricle. I don't much care for the cosmetic part, but Micah may care about this some day so I don't want to make any decisions that will override what he may want to do in the future.

The downside is we go back again in a week for a repeat audiogram, to make sure their assessment was correct and to see if they can distinguish between the left and right ear in terms of ability. I liked both of the audiologists who worked with him, one of whom has a doctorate. She was very much on the same page as me as far as getting Micah communication skills as opposed to solely focusing on his acquiring speech. The one school that Somerset County's EIP works with is more focused on oral/speech and once upon a time had a director who was opposed to sign language. This kid needs sign language as a temporary measure to express his basic needs: thirst, hunger, tiredness, etc. so anyone who is going to look down their noses at me will eventually be also butting heads. The second audiogram may also be able to put off further testing that would require Micah to go under anesthesia, so there is a plus to it.

Thea is doing ok at YingHua Day School, a Mandarin Chinese-immersion program. She taught one of my mom's neighbors "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" in Chinese a few days ago, but then was mortified when I told her teacher about it. She sort of keeps her Chinese school stuff separate from us, which is so adolescent it's almost scary. Today is the third anniversary of her adoption, so we're celebrating Family Day with dinner and a dessert of her choice (blueberries and strawberries (with whip cream, we're not saints)).

Labor Day weekend I took my little mutants down to visit my mother over Labor Day, proving I could travel solo with two of them. I highly recommend The Who's CD, Who's Next for drowning out any whining or asking are we there yet, Mommy? Mom got Micah to eat yellow squash, pineapple and a few other things that he was spitting out at home. Mom bought Micah a little pinafore/bib thing at the farmers' market. I put it on him and it looks more like a sundress than a bib/coverall, but if one is going to cross-dress, let it be John Deere fabric and Mennonite-made. Fortunately he wasn't into accessorizing with his sister's shoes (loves the sandals with the pink flowers) or one of the purses that she has no use for.

I'm now trying to get invitations out for Thea's birthday party. She turns four on Saturday, October 13th, and this year we're finally doing a children's party instead of just the family parties of the previous two years. She actually walked into My Gym and said, "This is a cool place for a birthday party." Coming from the child who hates to be the center of attention in a lot of ways, I had my checkbook out in about two seconds flat. I've been scouring the dollar section of Target since Spring so I already have most of the stuff for the party favors, if I can find all the places I've squirreled it away.