I could talk about how my school district wants to bus my kid out to another district ’cause they can’t handle him. Too frustrating, raw, and in flux.

Could talk about Poe’s continued unemployment. But really? Haven’t you heard that one before?

Could talk about certain theories about 2012, Israel peace treaties, 7 horses, and survival… But you’d think I was a true nutcase.

Could tell you about how my father drunkdialed me last night.

Instead, I’ll tell you this. I’m 34 years old and I’m going to be adopted.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to be legitimate.

Back when I was 4, and Jeannette abandoned me, my parents couldn’t adopt me because of a combo of Jeannette saying no, and my mother’s health. All this time, I’ve been legally their great-niece. They (and I) treat me as, and consider me as their daughter. All the good and bad that entails. My children are their grandkids. They are, “mom,” “dad,” “papa,” and, “grandma.” Period.

This has not gone well with the rest of the family. Even though it’s been 30 years. Lots of, “well it’s not like she’s your REAL daughter.” “It’s not like she’s blood.” (Actually, I am blood – so I never understood that one.) Or from my deceased “brother” (mom’s son who died about 4 years ago.) “Hi, this is Michele. My mom raised her.” That was his way of introducing me. I mean, OK – even if he didn’t want to introduce me as his sister, fine! He could have said cousin – that was indeed what we were legally!

My other “brothers” – dad’s kids – can’t stand that they treat me like a daughter – and not only a daughter, the favorite baby. Really, they only have themselves to blame for that, but they would never believe that in a million years. It’s all my fault. For existing.

Anyway. For a bunch of reasons, from inheritance legalities, to end of life medical decisions, to probably future legal fights with other relatives, we have decided to adopt me.

Nothing will change except the wording on their legal documents, and I’ll be issued another birth certificate. But it will greatly ease some of my fears about their late life. I do not wish to fight with my “brothers” about my parents being on or off life support when I fully know their wishes, and they haven’t bothered to speak to them, just because they’re the “legal” next of kin. I have no wish to fight over the money in their estate, when I know darn well who to call (I can bet you a large sum of money that they haven’t a clue who my parents’ legal representation is. I however send the woman a Christmas card every year.) I don’t wish to fight with them over the charitable contributions that my parents wish made upon their death. I have no wish to fight with them over the property my parents own, which I know what they want done with. I’m am positive that they don’t know my parents wishes. I do. And I don’t want legal hurdles put in my way when that time comes. Everything will be difficult enough to process while grieving without their pettiness coming into play.

Bottom line? My getting adopted will protect my parents wishes, and make me legally capable of pursuing those wishes on their behalf.

All morbidity and callous practicalities aside, we’ll be correcting an error that should have been corrected when I was 18. We just didn’t realize it could be.