What $900 will buy you

On Friday, we went to sign the papers that will, several months from now, make my adoption of TheBoy official. Right now, we're as unofficial and legally disconnected as you can be, except for the fact that I change his diapers, get him up in the morning, bathe with him upon request ("Mommy bath? Mommy bath?") and generally would die without him. Sure, he calls me Mommy. But in the eyes of the law, I could be any complete stranger. Forget about the fact that I was there holding Judybat's hand when they yanked him out of her, and taking the pictures we have of him slathered in his own baby filth before they cleaned him off.

A little exposition: Back in North Carolina, the place we used to live and still hold dear in our hearts, state law made it illegal for me to adopt him. Let me repeat that in case you didn't catch it: State law made it ILLEGAL for me to adopt him. Because the last thing we would want is for a child to have two loving, adoring mommies. It might turn him into a pansy or something.

Now we're in lovely, lush, liberal Portland. Here on the Left Coast, it's perfectly legal for me to adopt my son. All I have to do is pay a lawyer $900, pass my criminal records check and get Judybat to sign on the dotted line. And wait a couple of months for a judge to sign off on everything. If all goes well and the timing works out, we'll be able to take TheBoy's grandparents down to the courthouse when everything becomes official. Can you imagine? A happy ending.

There is one question, however. Our lawyer, an optimist despite the fact that she deals with divorce and dysfunction all day, says we can ask the state where TheBoy was born to create a new-and-improved birth certificate, showing his new-and-improved legal status. It would list JudyBat as the mom and me as the other parent. (Who's your daddy? Apparently I am.)

Anybody want to start taking bets on whether the good folks at the N.C. records department are going to go along with that? Personally, in a twisted sort of way, I'm almost hoping they show a little consistency and refuse. I mean, absolutely nothing has changed or will change about my relationship to the kid. He's still my son, no matter what they say.