Boundaries and Good-Bad Days

Hermano contacted me out-of-the-blue today. He wanted money. The story he told was that he hasn’t eaten in two days and he was hungry. I asked him why he wasn’t in school, since he could have lunch there. He told me the food was disgusting. I suggested he walk to my work (because my building is sandwiched between a Subway and Little Cesar’s pizza – both places to get something to eat). He said it was too far to walk. He contacted Primero, since I give him money to buy lunch. He told Primero he left school so he wouldn’t get in a fight and that his foster parents weren’t home, so he couldn’t contact them. I offered to pick Hermano up after work and take him home for dinner, but he said he didn’t want to be “out that much” – whatever that means. Bottom line? He’s using and he was trying to sell me and Primero a sob story so we’d give him some money. It’s so heartbreaking. It’s just down right terrible that this kid is ruining his life this way. I reported this information to our CHOR case worker and she admonished me for suggesting I would take him home to feed him, since I can’t do that. I’m glad that Primero and I were able to stay on the same page and not enable him, but I know it’s a hard thing to do, especially when Hermano made Primero feel badly about setting boundaries like he did. I pray that Hermano finds a way out of the mess he is in, I pray that he fights the demons of addiction and overcomes them with a determination to have a better life.

Saturday was a good day. We did nothing but hang around the house in the morning. My dad came to fix my faucets in the kitchen and bathroom – they keep clogging with some kind of sediment junk. He also fixed the clothes washer so it doesn’t wash all the clothing in hot water anymore. Now, it only washes the clothing in cold water. Later in the afternoon we went to a first birthday party for the child of one of my friends. It was unseasonably chilly, but sunny and a very lovely day. While we were there Primero noticed a post on his uncle’s Facebook page about an impromptu going away party for his cousin. So, we ended up going to his uncle’s house after the birthday party. Love Bug was getting cranky by this point, so I fed him and rocked him to sleep. Chica Marie was playing with another little girl, but I was keeping an eye on her due to all of the issues we’ve been having lately. I had a nice conversation with Primero’s cousin about the babies and how her baby wouldn’t sleep until it was totally quiet, unlike Love Bug. I talked with his other cousin’s girlfriend and had a few brief conversations with his aunt. Primero spoke with his uncle most of the time. When we were leaving I thanked the aunt and uncle for inviting us over and his uncle said to me in parting, “You know you can interact with everyone when you’re here.” Wall, head, bang! Um ok, I thought I was interacting. I really, really thought I was doing a good job this time. I don’t know what more I can do! Maybe I should google a list of ice breaker topics to go prepared to yak my head off when I’m there. I don’t know what more I can do and it’s so frustrating to feel like any effort I make is just never good enough.

Sunday was less of a good day. Chica Marie was asked to leave her Sunday school class because she refused to listen to her teacher and she drew on the other kids crafts. So, she had to come sit in the sanctuary with me and Primero. When we got home, after grocery shopping, she had a time out for her behavior and then took a nap. For reasons unknown to the rest of us, Chica Marie woke up crying – not boo-hoo crying, but that whining howl that kids do. She didn’t stop for roughly 45 minutes. She also threw a temper tantrum at the farm later that day. My dad was sick with the stomach flu, but he came to check on us after hearing her screaming because he thought something was wrong. No, just Chica Marie in time out. It’s awesome.

It’s hard to believe that today Love Bug is 10 months old! I have narrowed my search down to two possible locations for his birthday party. I’ve begun looking at supplies and trying to decide where to order a cake. It’s just so hard to believe he’s not my teeny tiny baby anymore! He’s scooting around the house in his inch worm flop. He has six teeth and loves to eat everything, including non-edible items like power cords and cat toys. He sits up in his own now, like a pro but still seems to struggle to move from lying flat on his back to any other position. He much rather prefers to be on his tummy. His reflux is slowly improving, but at least once a week he has a day where he seems to have trouble keeping his formula down. He’s kind of a momma’s boy and will cry when someone else is holding him, especially when he sees me. He is the most adorable baby who’s ever walked the face of the earth (and, no I’m not biased at all!) and so curious about the world around him. No one can make him laugh like Primero, although Chica Marie is getting closer. He still loves listening to music and it will help to calm him down if he’s fussy. His hair is wild and I’ve begun putting some special cream in it to keep it under better control. When it’s wet, I twist the top into one curl and I think he looks so precious with his hair like that, although Primero hates it and shakes it out to look more like a messy mohawk. Love Bug is still on the small side, he can fit into most of his 6 months clothing still, although he has more room in his 9 month things. I’ve gotten him some 12 month clothes, but that’s still a bit big on him. He likes to stand holding on to someone’s hands and then he bounces up and down with his knees. He hasn’t tried to pull himself up yet, but I think he might start trying that. We went nearly 2 weeks with him sleeping through the night, then slipped back into having him up twice a night and now it’s back to once a night. I don’t know it he’s truly hungry when he wakes up, but he does drink and then falls back asleep in 15-20 minutes. I’m hoping he will truly be sleeping through the night before he’s a year old, but I think he’ll be the kind of kid who wakes up as a toddler. Chica Marie still wakes up at night, but she puts her music projector on and goes back to sleep.

Mother’s Day is looming on the horizon, just a few short weeks away. I don’t know if Primero’s bio mom will be out of jail before then, but I will ask him if he would like to do anything for her. I’m not sure if anything could be mailed to her at jail. I also have to see about getting something for the baby’s mom, although I’ve been seeing her so sporadically, it’s hard to say if she would actually get her gift before the day or not. Still, I think an effort should be made. We’ll see how it all turns out.

Looking Forward

I realized, in looking at the date on my calendar today, that one month has now passed since Primero’s bio mom relinquished her parental rights in court. So, this means that he is free for adoption, I think. I don’t really know what else needs to be done before the finalization day is set in court. The county case worker indicated that the adoption finalization should occur by early summer, which officially begins on June 21^st. That’s just two short months away! And, it is less than a week shy of Love Bug’s first birthday.  

I have looked into several places to hold Love Bug’s party so we shall see which one pans out. I wish my house were big enough to just hold the party there, but it’s not. And I don’t want to burden my parents with asking them to host the party. When I told my mom I was beginning to plan Love Bug’s first birthday party her only comment was, “He won’t remember it anyway.” The medicine she is taking makes her such a grumpy old lady. I know he won’t remember the party, but he will see the pictures and I will remember his party. This is the first birthday party I am planning for a child and it is the first time I have a child turning one, so it’s kind of a big deal for me. Just like Primero’s 16^th party will be a big deal for him in November (I want to try to have a surprise party for him). I was hoping she would help me plan the party, but I will soldier on undeterred. I do hope she will attend, at least!

I’m going with a pirate theme for his party and I simply love it! I will probably be tempted to talk like a pirate all day long, but I think it will be such fun! I’ve been scouring Pinterest for party ideas and every time I look at them I get more and more excited. I’m going to order some things from the Oriental Trading company online and I need to find a perfect outfit for my sweet little man. I think the hardest thing is deciding on what food to serve. I need something simple, something kid friendly, and something that goes with our theme. I also need to think of games and/or crafts for the little party-goers. I think it will be great fun!

Every Party has a Pooper

Well, I survived the party. I did start getting a migraine at the end, but luckily some Aleve and lots of water staved off the full blown attack. Still, it was the longest three hours of my life. Chica Marie was not the best behaved (which is par for the course with her lately) and Love Bug got cranky because he was not big enough to run around with the older kids. Primero spent considerable time outside with his older sister and his oldest brother’s girlfriend. I talked to his cousin (not the one hosting the party) and tried to placate Love Bug while keeping a watchful eye on Chica Marie. Primero came inside when his youngest sister arrived to the party. He introduced me to her (we had already met last summer) as his foster mother and got pissed off when I called him rude. I don’t know something about it made me feel like he was ashamed to tell his sister who I really was, although I hazard to guess she already knows. It was hurtful and discouraging. He said his uncle talked to him about it after I took Chica Marie and Love Bug to the car. It’s always something when we go to these events. Thus, the reason why I hate them so. His uncle also told him that we (me and the little ones) are always invited to attend the family gatherings. Oh yea. Now, instead of feeling like a fifth wheel, I feel obligated to attend. Sigh. I hope it gets easier the more often we attend them. I almost wish there was a way to get to know his family that didn’t involve such large (uncomfortable) gatherings. Maybe we should think about having his aunt and uncle over to our place for a cook-out or something. I don’t know. I guess the one good thing was that his bio mom wasn’t there, so that made things go a little smoother.

Hermano was a no show to the party, despite his confidence in attending. He elected to spend time with friends running the streets of the city instead. He posted pictures on Facebook. His older sister and uncle expressed concern about him being back into the lifestyle he was living before. He was with his mom when she was arrested, after we dropped him off at his friend’s house. According to him, he is allowed to run the streets so long as he’s back to his foster home by 9 pm. His sister worries that he’s using again and said he’s been skipping school a lot lately. I sent an email to our CHOR case worker because I don’t really know what else I can do and I don’t feel like I can do nothing. Maybe she will forward my concerns along to the county case worker. I guess, at this point, Hermano is seen as a lost cause. He’s too old to rehabilitate and any time he’s with a foster family that has rules, he rebels. I don’t think giving him free reign to see his mom was the best choice of the courts, since it’s dumped him right back into the routine he was living previously (no rules, out on his own doing what he wants, when he wants). My heart aches for him because there is so much good in him, it’s just clouded by the dysfunction he’s lived with all his life. I think the county is just biding their time until he’s 18 and aged out of the system. I just hope he’s able to get his high school diploma before that happens. That would give him one good thing going for him.

I guess it was only a matter of time, but I finally got a report regarding Chica Marie misbehaving in church. Yesterday, after the service was over, her Sunday school teacher pulled me aside and told me that during the class she was disrespectful and simply would not listen. She was running around the room and when asked to stop she would yell that she wasn’t going to listen. She crawled under a table and tore up a Bible and when asked to come out and stop she screamed she was going to poop in her pants. I told the teacher that if this happens again she should buzz me (we are given pagers) and I would take her into the service with me. I had no other solution, since Chica Marie doesn’t really listen to me either. Yesterday was a particularly trying day for me because Chica Marie would cry and whine incessantly (we drove about 30 minutes to the farm and she fake cried the entire ride there for reasons unknown to me) over the littlest things, like being asked to put on sneakers instead of her dress shoes. Honestly, it’s sometimes hard to be around her because I just never know when she’s going to start throwing a fit – either a crying-for-no-reason fit or a full-on violent temper tantrum. Days like yesterday make me think I’m losing my mind.

Coup de Grâce

Yesterday the case worker was over to visit with all the kids. Primero was there due to being grounded and so we explained that situation and the case worker helped him to see why he needed to at least let me know he was ok. I think he got over the whole thing after that. We then talked about the little ones, more specifically Chica Marie. The case worker mentioned that the county case worker is trying to reduce the visits the children have with their bio mom since things are now moving towards adoption. She said they were trying to make the visits once bi-weekly rather than twice every week. I asked about discontinuing the Saturday therapy sessions and she said she would ask about that, since bio mom treats them like visits rather than therapy. I brought up Love Bug’s first birthday and the case worker said to definitely not invite the bio mom. She said it would be ok to invite the grandmother because there have never been any problems with her, but she sort of questioned why I would want to since the grandmother hasn’t made plans to see the children since early January. I could see her point, but I also think it would be nice to have the grandmother there so we could try to keep in touch with her as the adoption moves forward. I was kind of shocked that the case worker seemed to write the grandmother off, rather than try to encourage me to help build that relationship. She really supports and encourages contact with Primero’s family. Maybe she feels it’s different because the children are much younger than Primero, I don’t know. She seemed to think it was a good idea to have the older sister be invited to the party. I hope the other foster family is receptive to attending. If not, I’ll have to see if the county would let my keep her over-night so I could just take her with us to the party. I think she would really like being there and I think she would be so, so up-set if we don’t include her. Again, as we move towards adoption it’s important to try to keep some connection for the little ones, especially the girls who seem to miss living with one another. I feel like a lot of this is on me to do, which I understand to a certain extent, but I find it hard to believe that the CHOR or county case worker haven’t talked to me more about why it might be important to keep a connection for the little ones. Love Bug is too young to remember his older sister, so if I don’t keep in touch with the family that adopts her, he might never know her. Chica Marie will remember her sister and would miss the connection if I don’t make a point in keeping track of where their sister ends up. I just hope the adoptive family will be as willing to stay in touch as I am.

I had sent a message to Hermano asking him if he was invited to the birthday party on Saturday and if he needed a ride to and from. He never responded to me. Yesterday, after picking Primero up at the respite home, I drove the few blocks to the daycare. En route we noticed a familiar figure crossing the street. It was Hermano. He hopped in the car and asked if I would take him to his friend’s house. I agreed and left them in the car to pick up the little ones. We dropped Hermano off on our way home to meet with the CHOR case worker. Hermano has moved to a different foster home again. He had an issue with his previous foster father and so he’s now in his fourth foster home. I feel bad for him. I sense that the county is just going to let him age out of the system and he’ll be right back into the muck and mire he had been into previously. I see Hermano going the same route as their mother and it’s such a shame.

Last night as I was watching TV with Primero I received an email telling me his bio mom was back in jail. I let Primero know and his only response was, “Wow, really?” He told me this morning his brother had planned to visit with their mom after spending time with his friend yesterday afternoon. I feel bad for his brother because it seems like their mom is now doing the same thing to Hermano that she did to Primero. I mean, I suppose there is some validation for Primero, knowing that his bio mom isn’t favoring his brother, but mostly it’s just a sad, sad situation. I guessing this means their mom won’t be at the party on Saturday. I can’t say I’m torn up about that, but still I know how much Primero looks forward to seeing her and spending time with her. I hope his younger sisters will be there. I feel like they are not generally included in family gatherings and that’s sad. Primero and I have plans to take one of his younger sisters along with us to another Ariana Grande concert in Hershey this summer. She so wanted to go to the one we attended in Philly, but we had already bought tickets. I hope her guardian will allow us to take her along, if not Primero has plans to invite his friend who is a foster kid with another foster family we know. Her younger sisters are being adopted and she hopes the adoptive family will consider doing PLC for her so they can be together. If this happens before the concert, it might be tough to take her along. I guess we’ll just figure it all out when the time comes.

I received my first stings from my honey bees this year. I was in a hurry trying to feed the bees on Wednesday since my dad was holding Love Bug and he was being fussy. I didn’t take my smoker and almost as soon as I opened the lid to my meaner hive, I was stung. Then, as a coup de grâce, the same hive stung me in the rear end when I was walking to the second, nicer hive, to feed them. I’ve spent most of my time at work trying to keep my mind off how bad the stings itch. I put tea tree oil on them to help soothe the stings, but other than that there is very little I can do but wait it out. I know there will be more times this summer that I will endure bee stings, it just comes with the territory. Although, I hope this is my one and only sting on the ass…….    

Getting Close

Last night Primero went with his after school program to a basketball game in Philly because the step dance team from the local high school (his girlfriend used to be on the team) was performing and they wanted to have a group there to cheer them on. He was supposed to be back around 10-10:30 and his friend was going to have her father bring him home. After the children had a visit yesterday, I picked them up to take them to the farm so I could feed my honey bees. By the time we got back home it was bedtime for Chica Marie and Love Bug was fussing to sleep too. So I got Chica Marie to bed first and then it took a little while to get Love Bug to settle down but he did eventually fall asleep a little before 10. I sat and waited for Primero, thinking at any moment he would be home. By 10:30 I decided I was too tired to wait up and began getting ready for bed, fully expecting him at any moment. I crawled into bed and tried to relax but I was agitated. I held off until 11 pm and then I text him asking him where he was. He responded by saying he was in town but that his friend was pissed off and he would have to walk home and couldn’t talk anymore because his phone was at 1%. I called him. I was angry and told him I was coming to get him. I scooped the babies out of their beds, plopped them in their car seats and sped off into the night to pick up Primero. I was livid. And worried. We got there just before the bus pulled up and Primero apologized when he got in the car. I said, “That’s right you’re sorry” and he said he wasn’t sorry about not contacting me or having me worried about where he was and if he was ok. He was only sorry his friend got in a bad mood and wouldn’t take him home. So, for his crappy attitude and insistence that he did NOTHING wrong, I grounded him. He’s not going to the after school program the rest of this week. He said he didn’t want to go anyway. So, he will also be losing his phone when he gets home tonight. Although, he doesn’t know that. I should have taken it this morning but I was so worried about getting him to his respite home on time (he was taking the PSSA’s this week and he finished them yesterday, so he won’t be going back to the center or having any classes again until next week to give all the other students time to finish their testing.) He wasn’t talking to me this morning. To him, I’m always the bad guy…….

And, as if the above story isn’t enough for one week, I have two black and blue marks on my thigh from Chica Marie kicking me. This was from Tuesday night. I went to pick her up after her visit and she came running outside to me. I ushered her back inside so I could collect their things and wrangle Love Bug into his car seat. As I stepped inside with Chica Marie, her sister and her sister’s case worker went out onto the porch and it seemed like their mom wanted to talk to the two of them. I tried to keep Chica Marie inside and the CHOR case worker opened the door to the little waiting room for me to escort her inside and keep her contained. Chica Marie’s behavior escalated from whining to a full-out temper tantrum in a second. She threw herself onto the floor and began kicking me, thus the bruises from where she hit me with the heel of her shoes. I was holding the baby and trying to tug their things inside so the case worker could close the door. Chica Marie proceeded to kick and scream for approximately 15 minutes. At first I ignored her and any time I tried to talk to her she would scream louder and kick the door and floor harder. Love Bug began fussing, so I scooped him back out of his car seat and sat down to begin reading him a book. Chica Marie screamed, so I read louder with over-emphasized excitement and embellishment and eventually she stopped screaming and came over to see the book. She then climbed on my lap and wrapped her arms tightly around my neck. Once she started talking normally, I asked her to put her shoes back on so we could leave. Living with her lately has been challenging. It’s hard to tell what will set off one of these massive tantrums and even harder to stop one once they’ve started. I feel like we are all barely surviving this week! Luckily last night’s visit did not result in the same reaction.

As we were driving to the farm, Chica Marie told me she hated her mother and that she wasn’t going to talk to her anymore. She would only talk to her sister, me, Love Bug, and Primero. When I asked her why she would say such an unkind thing about her mother, she said it was because her mom was mean to her and her sister. Of course, when I won’t let her eat candy for dinner, I am mean, so I’m not sure she has the vocabulary to say what she really wants to say. It did sound like her words were one’s used by her sister and she actually said “we” hate our mom, so I wonder if it’s mostly just her feeding off of her sister’s attitude. I don’t know. I do know it is sad. The other thing she said was that she wanted to go live with her grandmother. Again, I think this is coming from her sister, since the grandmother did try to get the sister to be able to live with her (and that might still be the option on the table as their case moves towards adoption). We haven’t had a visit with the grandmother since the beginning of January, so I really don’t know what her thoughts are on the matter. I’m sure, since she expressed an interest in adopting the older sister, the county would consider her before seeking a non-related family.

I found out Tuesday morning that the little ones’ case has officially been handed off to an adoption case worker at CYS. It just so happens that they were assigned to the same adoption case worker that Primero has – how convenient! We still have several months to go before court in July, so I’m sure that will give the new county case worker and opportunity to get to know their bio mom and get up-to-speed on the case. Since December we have gone from three CHOR case workers and two county case workers, to just one of each. It does make life a little more simple this way!

I have begun planning Love Bug’s first birthday party. I’m going with a pirate theme because he was a pirate for Halloween and because he says “Ayeeee!” a lot. And, because I think it will be super-cute! I tried to involve my mom in the planning and she said, “like he’ll remember anyway.” Sigh. She’s still dealing with a lot concerning her health and the medication she is on (and will be on for the next 5 years) seems to mess with her emotions. When I saw her last night she told me that she just “can’t get close to any of these kids” after “losing two little boys in a row.” I could kick myself for not saying, “Well, you can get as close as you want to Primero, he’s not going anywhere.” Sigh. When I indicated that the little ones’ case is moving towards adoption her response was, “well, you can’t take her too” meaning Chica Marie. I changed the subject and didn’t respond to what she said. I already know her response, “[My name], what will you do with all these kids?” -  like I have 15 kids instead of three. I know my mother is thinking purely from a financial standpoint that I can’t handle three kids. What she doesn’t know is that there is financial help involved. Do I struggle? Yes, thanks to Flaco leaving me high and dry. But, I’m not destitute and I can keep a roof over our heads and food in our tummy’s. I guess I just have to forge ahead and hope my mom can find it in her heart to get close to these children since they will most likely be her only grandchildren……  

Therapy and Therapy

Last night Primero and I had another join therapy session. It was a lot less intense than the last time we were in therapy together. I tried to be sure to not get worked up about anything and while I know I am holding back emotionally but I also need some more time to heal. Primero was glib and happy when he got home last night. I feel like I’m living in cement, just barely able to shift my body around to react, my movements slowed by the heavy sediment holding me in place. At therapy we talked about Primero using my full name instead of my nickname and how he rarely does and how I’ve only corrected him once. That’s simply because I’ve given up; I just don’t care what he calls me. We then talked about the party. First, the therapist explained that it might not always be possible to attend all family events. She tried to get him to express his expectations but he had nothing to offer by way of what he hoped to happen. I explained that I feel there is pressure on me to befriend every member of his family when I feel incredibly awkward and unsure how to act. The therapist asked if I thought I would be attending these events in the future and I said, “Since I’m not technically invited and I only have to go because Primero can’t go unless I do, I don’t really see myself attending in the future.” Primero claimed he didn’t care what I did, even if I sat on my phone and ignored everyone like he does at my family functions. This, of course, is a lie. He has expressed his true feelings about the matter in the past. He did mention, when asked by the therapist who would be attending, his bio mom plans to attend. I really hope she doesn’t talk to me. And, she had better not give me any slack about being stand-offish. I gave her a chance to get to know me and she blew me off. Worse, she spent time with Hermano and one of their younger sisters rather than spend the time with Primero and the rest of us. So, she better just steer clear of me, which I’m sure she won’t do. I wish this were over already. I really, really don’t want to go at all.

Today I met my new therapist. I like her much better than my first therapist (from a few years ago)already. Mostly, it was just me explaining the whole mess of my life right now as to the reason why I was seeking counseling. At the end of the session she asked how I felt after blabbing on and on about “things.” I told her I felt really messed up and hopeless. And I said I was tired of all the disappointments that have just kept coming and coming over the past several years. She promised me there was hope and that she wanted to help me. I’m going to see her again next Monday afternoon and the following week as well. I spent most of my time talking about my journey in foster care and to the present issue of adopting Primero and having a wide open adoption with his biological family. I took the book I finished reading, ”Three Little Words” the one recommended to me here, by the woman who was adopted at age 12 after being in the foster care system for most of her life. I read the line, “I cannot say, that even today, Gay (the adoptive mom) feels like my real mother.” To me, this is the saddest thing in the world; it’s just soul-crushingly devastating and sad. I suppose I have a long road of emotional recovery ahead of me…..

While perusing Facebook last night I discovered that a woman I went to church with at my previous church is expecting again. She had a picture of a home pregnancy test and her caption was “Rejoice and sing for the sterile who couldn’t give birth. Thank you Lord for your faithfulness.” I’m paraphrasing, since she wrote in Spanish, but the meaning is that she tried to get pregnant for years. About three years ago she had a son and now she is expecting again. Just months before she got pregnant with her son, my friend’s husband had run off to Puerto Rico with another woman. She welcomed him back and she told me before that it was her unwavering faith that finally made her able to conceive. I guess my doubts made me unable to be a biological mother. And now I’m struggling with being an adoptive parent. Maybe if I only had a little more faith…….       

Days like This

Does anyone else have days where they really feel like they cannot go on anymore? Like the weight of everything is too much and they just want to crawl under the covers and make it all go away? That’s how I’m feeling today. I guess, more than anything, I’m really just feeling those broken parts in me and I wish I could scoop out all my vulnerable parts and bury them so deep they won’t ever again see the light of day. I want to be this wonderful, perfect, graceful adoptive mother who doesn’t bat an eye at her adopted children wanting to spend as much time as possible with their biological family, who can nimbly walk into the home of the children’s bio family and fully participate in familial activities with excitement and joy. I hate the parts of me that won’t let me do that. I hate the parts of me that find it hard and awkward and undesirable. I hate the parts of me that fight against it, the parts that scream they don’t want to do it, that it’s too much to ask of me. I want to be the kind of adoptive mother who can let the insults, the rejections, the lashing out just bounce off my chest and roll away, while I wait with open arms for that potential day when I am fully accepted. I hate the parts of me that demand respect, that ache to be a mother and tremble at the thought of another loss or rejection. I hate the parts of me that can’t accept the differences of adoptive versus biological children and want to stifle the parts of me that still desire a child that will always and only be my own. I fear that these ugly parts of me will ruin everything and cause me to lose the children I love the most. I wish I were different in so many ways. I feel pathetic and unworthy of all the good that I have. Surely tomorrow will be a better day.   

Mandated Reporter

Words are very important. I knew that even as a child. When I was told that “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” I knew this to be false. Words have meaning, words can hurt and words can help. I think that’s why I like to read and write. I like to string words together, I like to make sure I have the precise meaning and use the best descriptive words. But, like those who taunted me in grade school, I too sometimes use mean words that hurt. I hate myself for doing it and I vow to stop, slap a filter on my mouth and bridle my tongue. I hate to think of myself as a cliché, but I’ve been struggling with serious PMS for a couple of years now, maybe even longer. It’s like some horrific alien being swoops in and takes over my body when I’m menstruating. I’m so miserable I don’t even want to be around myself. In addition to near debilitating back cramps and groan inducing uterine cramps, breasts so sore I want to tear them off, heavy gushing torrents of menstrual blood barely staved off by feminine products, an overwhelming desire to sleep around the clock and an appetite to rival the whole National Football League, is it any wonder I’m a bit miffed? Unfortunately, it goes beyond that to the point that I have no patience whatsoever and woe to the child who tries to push any buttons because I’m a powder keg just waiting for the slightest provocation to set me ablaze. I plan on mentioning this to my therapist (who I will meet for the first time next week) but I also need to make an appointment to see my doctor because I know I have a hormonal imbalance due to PCOS and I wonder if there is anything I can do (hopefully with some friendly herbs) to restore my hormonal equilibrium. Either that, or maybe I could induce some sort of monthly hibernation to lull the hulk within me into submission.

The laws in PA have changed to include a wider scope of mandated reporters. I had to complete an online training in order to be in compliance for my foster care licensing because foster parents are now considered mandated reporters for suspected child abuse. This means, even if I just hear about child abuse I need to report it or face penalties such as fines and loss of my foster care license. Thus, when a friend (a former college roommate) told me that her step-daughter had been abused by her biological mother during a visit, I had to call up the Child Line to make a report. I told my friend that I called and explained to her why I had to report what she told me. She understood, they had been involved with CYS in the past because of abuse allegations by the bio mom to the little girl. My friend mentioned she had also taken her step-daughter to the doctor and they too are mandated reporters, so there might be two reports filed. I felt a little foolish because I didn’t have a lot of information to give and I was basing my report on second-hand knowledge, but I would rather be a nervous Nancy and report something unsubstantiated than lose my license or pay a fine for not doing something to help a child in need. I don’t really want to get involved in this case, it’s a domestic issue between my friends husband and his ex-wife and there has been court involvement and thus far the court is demanding the bio mom get regular visits, despite numerous reports of abuse. I hope they can get things worked out.

I mentioned previously that Primero has been invited to attend his cousins son’s first birthday party in a few weeks. I emailed his therapist and case worker for advice on whether we should attend or not. I mean, we are just coming out of some really heavy, damaging stuff here and I don’t want to go rocking the boat and get everything all riled up again. His case worker thinks we should go so he doesn’t get upset about being kept away from his family. Honestly, that’s not what I want to do, I just don’t want to keep circling around this same mountain again and again. The doubts about adoption entered his head after we spent Christmas with his family. They had such a good time together and he wanted to capture that and make it permanent. Who’s to say the same thing won’t happen again, especially on the heels of his massive confusion? I don’t know. And the more I think about it, the less I want to go. I wish I could be there as an ethereal being, just floating above it all but not really involved, not feeling like an obnoxious hanger-on, awkward and unwanted. I don’t know. Some days I wonder if I’m fit to be an adoptive mother. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with this other family, I want my own family. I guess I’m just selfish, I mean it’s just one Saturday afternoon, right? I wish it were over already…….

Perfunctory

I didn’t write about the visit from the county case worker last week. I guess I just felt like the whole thing was perfunctory, an afterthought based on the all the issues that were swirling around. The CHOR case worker was there as well and unfortunately, because of the baby, I was in and out of the discussions being had. Primero said he was back on board for the adoption after talking with his brother and another foster parent when he was in respite. I had been asked to think of some house rules, which I wrote down after jotting down the Webster’s definition of respect. Primero and I were instructed to think of consequences for breaking the rules, which we have not yet done. There was talk of the pregnant girlfriend. The county case worker explained how this was seen as a non-issue for so many people in the city. She even called it “culturally accepted” for many of the residence and when she said it was “normal” I interrupted and said it was not “normal” to be pregnant at 16 nor do I accept it. The fact that it’s seen as acceptable is, in my humble opinion, part of the reason why our city is consistently listed as one of the poorest in the country while the rest of the county is faring much better. With so much education and so many options, I simply cannot fathom why a girl would get pregnant in high school beyond being completely irresponsible. And, if it is a cultural thing, then I definitely don’t want Primero around it, thinking it’s ok for babies to have babies. To my knowledge, the children I have had in foster care were born to women who had their first child when they were teenagers, some as young at 14. Is there some correlation? I don’t know. But, I’m not ok with my son dating a pregnant girl. And I would really not be ok if he were the father. But, I’ve gone off topic….

Primero didn’t have therapy last night because things have settled down. He’ll have therapy next week, at his regularly scheduled date and time. Last week the case workers left thinking everything is right as rain. Primero thinks since his decision has been made (again) all is good. I think I’m the only one who hasn’t drunk the Kool aid. And soon enough we will have a chance to test our new found greatness. Primero was invited to attend his cousin’s son’s first birthday party in two weeks. He was very close to this cousin when he lived with his aunt and uncle and he misses seeing her since she had a baby, moved away and got married. She was not at the holiday events we attended because she is living on the other side of the county with her husband and baby. But, now she is traveling back for the first birthday party. Primero is really looking forward to it. He is looking forward to seeing his cousin, he is looking forward to his cousin and I meeting (we have the same name), and of course, he is looking forward to seeing his bio family. I’m dreading it. First of all, I feel like a fifth wheel because I was technically not invited and on top of that I will be bringing 2 extra bodies (Chica Marie and Love Bug). And no matter how hard I try, I just feel so awkward going to these family shindigs. I feel like I don’t fit in and no one really knows what to do with me. They all have history and understand one another’s history but I’m an unknown as much as they are unknown to me. I don’t want to interfere, I want to allow Primero to be himself when he is there, but at the same time I need to observe (he is still a foster kid and so I still have to report things to CYS) which only adds to the awkwardness. His aunt has been kind to me in the past spending time talking to me and holding the baby, but I’m sure she will be busy with her daughter and grandson, ditto to his uncle. I don’t know if his bio mom will be there and I haven’t asked because I don’t want to make a thing. I did ask if Hermano would be going because I would offer to take him if his foster parents can’t/won’t. They were totally unresponsive to the previous attempt to get the boys together, so I have no idea how this would go. I guess I’m mostly anxious about this family gathering because it seems like the other times we were with Primero’s bio family is when things started going sideways. I want this to be a positive experience, but I’m dreading it so much! Hopefully all my worry will be for naught, but past experience has not proven this to be true. I wasn’t excited about any of the previous events, but I certainly didn’t dread them as much as I do now.

You Look just like Your Mom

Everyone says I look just like my mom. If I have heard this once in my lifetime I have heard it a thousand times. There is no denying I am my mother’s child. My mother, sister and I sound alike on the phone. So much so that we confused even close family and friends when we all lived together. So, again there is an undeniable family resemblance. And it’s something I’ve taken for granted or even found irritating when I was younger. With the three kids I have now and hope to adopt, there will be no confused voices and no mini me’s. Most people in the general public believe Primero is my brother, partially because we don’t look alike and partly from how he talks to me I would assume. I’ve been mistaken for his aunt, cousin, sister and once a very old couple thought he was my husband (ermagawd!!!), but I don’t think anyone has assumed I was his mother. Luckily the little ones look like brother and sister, but they do not look like me, being of a different race than I am. But, Chica Marie calls me mommy and Love Bug is very attached to me, so while he doesn’t look like me, one can infer from our relationship that I’m his mother. Obviously, when you adopt a child, even if you adopt a child of your same race, there is little chance the child will have any family resemblance. Coming from a cohesive family where there is strong family resemblance I worry that (I gotta tell you, I have the hardest time saying this – just because no one is mine officially) my children will find it hard to never hear – oh you look just like your mom!  For me, I got over the visible difference with the previous children I had in foster care. All but Primero were a different race then me (Primero would argue that he is not “white” either he identifies with his ethnicity – but that’s another story for another time), so I’m used to the curious stares and occasional rude comments. But, I’m also a grown up and so I “get” things the children don’t yet understand. Just something that’s on my mind today……