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8:01am: It has been 8 weeks and 1 day since we applied for Joe’s social security card. 8 weeks and not a peep from the SSA. They did give us this nifty letter when we applied, complete with a SSA local office stamp and someone’s initials (that are completely illegible). It included a couple of phone numbers we could call and a nice long reference number. I was specifically told by the Doogie Howser kid who took our application that the process could take up to 6 weeks, but that we could call for a status update before that. He said they wouldn’t give me the social security number over the phone, but they should tell me if it had been issued and then I might be able to schlep into the office and find out what it is.
So, this morning, I called. After nearly throwing the phone through the window because of the most idiotic voice-prompting system I’ve ever experienced (they didn’t want to put me through to an agent without entering Joe’s social security number - ugh!), I finally got through to a recording that promised to take my number and call me back. About fifteen minutes later, the less-than-helfpul agent on the other end of the line informed me that, no, the reference number was no help; it was only good at the local office. (Huh? That’s stupid.) She put me on hold when she realized that Joe was an adoptee and when she came back on, I explained that this was still his first social security application. I spelled his name, again. She paused and seemed to be looking up his information on her computer. Her response: there was no record for Joe. No record? No FREAKIN’ record!!?? You’ve got to be kidding me?!? I was told that I needed to go to my “local” office and straighten things out. Oh joy. Guess what we’re doing today after Joe’s nap (and once I cool down a bit)?
9:12am: So, I calmed down and decided to give the local office a try on the phone before I dragged Joe and I down there. I was on hold for about 15 minutes (they didn’t have a nifty call-back feature). Someone finally picked up, baffled, because she didn’t do social security numbers. She worked “in the back” and wanted to know if someone transferred me by mistake. It turns out that the downtown office just moved (thank goodness I called; I would have been so pissed if I had taken Joe down there by bus only to find a “We’ve Moved” sign on the door). Anyhow, because of the move, their phone system is acting up. Sounds like they’re just really discombobulated from the move. That I understand.
Anyhow, after insisting that she was the wrong person to talk to and telling me that it was impossible to transfer me and, that, even if she could, no one would give me any information about Joe. No status, nothing, nada. Security, privacy, protection, you know? Nope, I’d just have to come in. Well, that wasn’t gonna cut it with me. No sirree. I kept asking over and over for help. I cajoled, I complained, I pouted that it had already taken too long, I begged (hey, for Joe, I’d do anything), I whined about their no-food/no-drink policy and the difficulty that presents with a baby when there’s a long wait, I explained that I needed to know what to bring and asked if there was someone, anyone, who might be able to hint at what the problem was. I wasn’t going to let her hang up. That was clear. You can’t really blame me. I wasn’t about to schlep Joe downtown for no good reason without exhausting every other option first.
Finally, my persistent squeeky-wheelness paid off. She looked up Joe’s application. It turns out that we’re waiting on Joe’s state of birth again, this time to verify the birth certificate. She also told me that ol’ Doogie was a summer intern (ah ha! So I was probably right to worry that he screwed up). She even offered to print out Joe’s file and give it to one Mrs. Chavez, who was out of the office today, but would call me when she returned. She even gave me an extension. Now we’re getting somewhere. Except that this is a federal office, so I’m not holding my breath.
OK, Mrs. Chavez, now it’s up to you. I need your help. Please, oh please, get on the horn with the necessary people and get that birth certificate verified. I’ve got taxes to pay (or, maybe, get back and we could SO use those right about now). And savings accounts to set up. And a passport application to submit (you never know)… And remember, I have your number and I’m not afraid to use it.
Hey, you don’t have to be a Republican to be an lipstick-wearing agro “hockey” mom. And this is one snarling bulldog you don’t want to mess with. He he he.
So, a couple of weeks ago, Joe and I made the trek to the Social Security Administration office in downtown Denver. With certified copies of his birth certificate — which arrived on Thursday the week after we ordered them, still doin’ the happy dance! — and our finalization decree, we decided that we’d take a bus adventure to avoid the hassle and expense of parking. (Dan has been commuting by bus lately and loving it. We live quite close to a fairly major bus route, so we can go anywhere from the bus stop around the corner… How super cool is that?!?)
Well, our bus ride was a bit of a misadventure at first. I busted my buns to get out of the house so that we wouldn’t be traveling during Joe’s lunchtime. About a mile into the ride, I realized that I left behind all of the certified documents we needed. So, we hopped off the bus and I pushed Joe’s “city” stroller through the soft grass at City Park. We stopped at the water jet so that Joe could eat and play (and momma could rest). By the time we got home an hour later, I was sunburnt (Joe wasn’t since I remembered to lather him up with sunscreen before we left) and exhausted from the heat, but I was determined to get the ball rolling for Joe’s social security card. As soon as I caught my breath, we started all over again.
We arrived at the social security office about 2:30pm. Joe’s naptime. Great. After fumbling through the security and x-rays, we got a ticket that was 12 numbers away from the “now serving” person. Joe was restless and didn’t want to sit in his stroller. He couldn’t eat or drink (SSA policy), so I chased him around the crowded waiting room for an hour until our number was called, but he was overtired, miserable, and cranky. He screamed the entire time I (tried to) talk to the guy (who couldn’t have been a day over 19) behind the security glass.
So, Doogie takes our paperwork, looks baffled, and calls a supervisor, who walks him through the process for adoptees. Then, she tells him to make copies of the certified documents we brought and give us back the originals. She leaves. Lil’ Doogie still looks baffled and says to me, “I don’t understand why this copy says ‘void’ all over it.” I explain that certified birth certificates are sometimes printed on watermarked paper, which thereby voids any copy not officially issued. (Duh….) Still scratching his head, he says that the process could take up to six weeks because they have to “verify” his birth certificate with his state of birth (um, why did I bust my buns to bring certified copies, then…which the SSA requires?**) and if that office verifies it, then Joe will get a card. I was tempted to stay and ask for a supervisor to make sure Doogie didn’t screw things up, but Joe was really getting loud and wiggly, so I just shook my head, took my papers, and left so that I could get Joe a bottle. It was a long, hot ride home.
I have a bad feeling about this. We worked the kinks out of the birth certificate process, so there’s hope that we can do the same with the social security number. Although, it is a federal office, so my hopes could be dashed just the same. Send good vibes our way, please. We could use all the help we can get!
**I’m guessing that the extra verification process is a result of ensuring accurate and honest identification in a world of terrorist threats and identity theft. I get that. But, sheesh, he’s a kid. You think they’d make some sort of accommodation. You’d think that they’d try to make things go a little faster for first-time social security applicants who are minors. No, instead, they make you go to the stupid SSA office in person with the kid in question. They won’t let you feed your baby, which is the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard of (they let you bring in food and drink, you just can’t “consume” it). If you miss your number (say, by going to the lobby to feed your screaming kid — they wouldn’t even let you eat on the floor outside the room), then you’re SOL and have to start over. It’s not the friendliest or easiest place to navigate and I totally feel for those folks less able to get there or make sense of the place. I only pray that Joe gets his social security number without any more hassle, because I really don’t want to go back and might just hoof it out to the ‘burbs for an easier experience if I have to go a second round with these clowns.
So let’s just say it’s been a whirlwind. After 2 hours of sleep Shannon went back to the hospital right away. I’ve got a head cold coming on and actually slept 4 magnificent hours and then took a Taxi over to the hospital a little after noon. When I got there, Shannon was visiting with birthmom and her 15 month baby (talk about a handful!). We spent the day with “Baby Boy” and periodically checked in on birthmom in between signing all of the various paperwork required by the social worker on this end. Eventually, the night shift nurses that we met the night before took pity on us, and opened up a room that wasn’t going to be used until 8 am the next morning. We had a room until 5:30 a.m., where we could hang out with our son…(man, that sounds strange to my ears still!). It was great to be with him, even if the furniture was left over from a medieval torture chamber. He should be discharged in the next day or so. When Baby Boy is discharged, he technically goes to the birthmom’s agency/social worker, who then, hands him over to our care. That is, if she has all of the paperwork from Colorado. All of this is great, except…
…this all happened so fast that we beat the paperwork from Colorado out here. We asked our agency to next-day mail all of our paperwork (at our expense) to the social worker here. Our worker let us know Thursday morning that it was all on the way. By 5:30 pm Friday, it hadn’t arrived. This is a cause for concern since we have a 3-day weekend coming up for Memorial Day. A quick look at the FedEx routing information showed it arriving NEXT Wednesday. So I got on the phone with the director of our agency, who let me know she decided to send it “express” rather than “next day” since things “always get there the next day anyway” and she wanted to “save us some money.” Yes, that’s right, our agency came through for us again with flying colors. Thankfully, Shannon and I are too tired to be mad.
Our agency owner spent the next hour trying to fix her mistake. She thinks that the originals that the agency here is requiring may not be necessary. So far, we’ve heard otherwise. She also informed us that FedEx was willing to “expedite” shipping. There was nothing left she could do.
We got on the phone with FedEx and found out that “expedited” translates to first thing Tuesday. (If the baby is discharged Saturday or Sunday this leaves the social worker on this end scrambling to figure out what to do with him…she spends her weekend babysitting). However we got an address where the social worker here MAY be able to go to to pick the package up on Saturday.
So cross your fingers. It’s Saturday morning, and the office opens in a couple of hours!
that the CBI (Colorado Bureau of Investigation) totally rocks! I gave up on the idea that my homestudy agency or my social worker (despite their promises to contact the CBI) was going to do anything to help me out with the status of my FBI fingerprints, which got very confused mainly because the homestudy agency didn’t follow the instructions properly or give me copies of the original FBI rejection (that had the instructions) — until recently (when I finally got copies of these last week, I realized that something probably went wrong).
So, I called the CBI on a lark this afternoon. A few minutes ago, I talked with the most helpful person I’ve ever dealt with during this whole adoption process.
…the paper chase ramps up to full speed.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I was under the mistaken (deluded?) impression that the big paper chase for the homestudy these past few weeks would cover the bulk of official documents. My oh my, how I was wrong!
So today I found out that my fingerprints were rejected by the FBI as being unreadable and I’ll need to redo them. Great, just great. I knew this might be an issue when I had the prints taken and the computer kept showing an error. I could have sworn that I saw the lady at the sherriff’s station (who was tired of taking the same prints over and over again) override the rejection. She said she didn’t, but it happened quickly. Hmmm. I have my suspicions.
We have to write a will or wills. Big fun. Lawyers? We don’t need no stinkin’ lawyers! There are plenty of sample documents online. Colorado’s Revised Statutes are pretty clear on what constitutes a legal will.
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