These forms and those forms and more forms

While The Kid is busy adjusting to the Canadian education system, Mac and I start the long swim through miles-deep immigration forms in late October 2005. We fill out the forms over and over and over again, each time uncovering a new typo or missing information.

We decide to first start collecting items required by these forms that require outside (or even divine) intervention. First, we do the FBI fingerprints. I start off thinking that this little piece won't be so bad. I have been fingerprinted more times than I have fingers. Now, never because I was arrested, but for employment purposes. I used to hold security clearances and things like that. Fortunately, I found a fingerprinting service just a few miles (kilometers, if you are Canadian) from my house. For a small fee (about $35), they will do the fingerprints up for you, fill out the fingerprint card and away I go. I send the fingerprint request to the FBI in Virginia with a check to the U.S. Treasury to cover the FBI's processing fees. Mark one off my list.

Next, time to get photos taken. I assume these are to be attached to my Permanent Residence card, but they require several passport type photos of both me and my son. I find a little shop that sells and repairs computers that also takes passport photos and we get that done.

The medical exams are the next step. I search the Immigration website for the list of authorized doctors and find one that is not in Pakistan or Albania and is about a 15 minute drive from my house and make an appointment. We waited about 1 week to get in, The Kid and I show up, don't have to wait too long to get into the exam rooms. We get weighed and blood pressure measured, lay on the table and get the abdomen poked, get the heart listened to, and other basic exam things. We are sent to another location for our lab work. Keep in mind, I really have no idea where this lab is, as I wasn't told about this step before and I didn't get a chance to map quest it. (Map questing is the only way I seem to find things in this city.) I have to call Mac's cell and get directions over the phone because I am completely clueless where anything is. We have to have blood drawn and chest x-rays taken. One small glitch is The Kid's congenital heart defect. The Canadian doctor requests to see The Kid's medical records and gave me 10 days to provide them.

That is one thing that never occurred to bring with me from the U.S. I have his University of Minnesota cardiologist's card and I call and explain the situation and request that the records be faxed or mailed directly to the Canadian doctor. No problem, they say, they should be able to get that out in 2 days. I call the Canadian doctor's office the following week to make sure they received the records, and find out that nothing was received. Crap, running out of time. I call the U of M again, and inquire as to the problem. They have no record of my request! Ok, lets try again and I further explain the urgency of the situation. U of M assures me they will do it right away. I wait 2 days and contact the Canadian doctor's office to ensure they have them and yes!! they have them and all is well with the world again. The Canadian doctor mails his medical findings off to another place far away and I wonder how they ever match those medical reports to their applications, especially since Immigration doesn't even have our application. I figure there must be some kind of process for that. I have a receipt from the Canadian doctor, but that's about it.

For now, its back to the forms and piling paper. I filled out the actual application form, the spousal (thats me!) questionnaire, the background declaration, the sponsorship agreement, the application to sponsor an undertaking, oh my god, the list goes on. Attached to those forms were birth certificates, Mac's landing documents, university transcripts, photos of our wedding and trips we took before our wedding, copies of passports, lease agreements on apartments, and just about everything else you can imagine. The pile of mile high papers sits on my desk waiting for the FBI piece to arrive.

Long about the beginning of December, I receive a package from the FBI. They had returned my fingerprints and payment with a nice little form letter saying they don't accept personal checks. I had paid them with my U.S. checking account. I guess I must of missed that part. Well, there goes a month down the drain. I storm off to the bank to draw a money order in USD to pay the FBI and resubmit the fingerprints.

The FBI doesn't return the completed criminal check until early February 2006. With that final piece of the puzzle in hand, we run off to make crazy copies, then off to the post office to mail our box of forms and other papers to yet another place far away. Finally, we are on our way. The clock starts now on February 13, 2006.

Current Score: Us: 1, Government: 0, Errors: 1