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.