Certifiably Crazy and One Year Older

Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be 35 years old. I had a hard time turning 30 because I had hoped to be a mother by the time I was 30 and well, that didn’t happen. I’m not going to say I have the same hang-up about turning 35, but the age has given me a moment’s pause. I am distinctly aware, as I’m sure most inferiles are, that age 35 for a woman is when fertility begins to wane. It is when the ticking of the clock becomes more urgent because eggs are shriveling and hormones are slacking off. And that’s in healthy women with normal reproductive systems.

 

Why should I care, you might wonder. Really, I shouldn’t care, I have three kids and a full life and I’m happy. But, I suppose in that tiny little corner of my brain, the part that still believes in unicorns, Pluto as a planet, and gold at the end of a rainbow, I still hope to find someone and have a biological child. There. I’ve said it. I’ve admitted this quiet little secret I’ve been harboring. And turning 35 seems like a massive killjoy to such crazy dreams. Because, it’s not just that I’m turning 35. It’s that I’m turning 35 alone, with no significant other. Eh, I’ve been dabbling in online dating but it’s such a crapshoot! There are so many crazies out there, wading through them could be a full-time job. Not to mention the time it takes to respond to the messages and weed out the no-go guys. Sigh. I’m glad to be celebrating another year of life and I’m not discontent with how my life is right now. I guess I just want it all, I still want the husband and kids and a big life shared with someone else.

 

I have written about having baby fever previously. The feeling had died down a bit until Hermano came over with his tiny newborn son and my dormant baby fever flamed to life. What's fun is I think Love Bug also has baby fever. When Hermano was visiting with his newborn, I worried it would upset Love Bug to see use all holding the baby. Instead, the only thing that upset him was when we took the baby from him after his turn "holding" the baby. He saw a picture of the baby on my phone as I was scrolling through Facebook last night and I had to stop and let him kiss the baby. I truly enjoy Love Bug at the age he is right now, but I surely do miss when he was so tiny! Several nights a week I dream of babies, tiny sleeping infants cuddled in my arms. This only fuels my desire and try as hard as I might to extinguish it, I simply cannot. So there you have it, I am certifiably crazy and one year older.

Morning Madness

I don’t know if it’s the same for parents of biological children, but I have a very clear memory of when my house was just me and the critters. This came to mind last night when the speech therapist was over and ended her session in a tickling wrestling match with the little ones while Primero sang loudly to the music only he could hear in his headphones and Esperanza, who was visiting, laughed at something on her phone. The noise level in the house went up another decibel or two when the dogs started getting riled up because of the kids being excited and added their shrill barks to the squeals of glee. Like the flashback in a movie, I was transported to a time when it was just me in the house and the only noise was from the TV or radio. The house was in order, neat and tidy, and I had a simple and calm evening routine. I snapped back into the present racket in time to break up a fight between the dogs and start calming down the hyper little ones.

 

I don’t often think about my time waiting for a placement, but when I do I remember the silence. Sure, now that the house is NEVER quiet I sometimes with for a little silence, but mostly I remember that time as lonely. The only part I long for from my pre-child times is the simplistic mornings I had just getting myself ready for work. For one, I didn’t have to get up nearly as early. I could put on music I liked and wake up slowly to a hot cup of coffee. I could spend as long as I needed in the bathroom, getting my hair just right and adding that extra coat of mascara to my lashes. Compared to mornings like this morning, it was such a luxury to have only myself to get ready. Now, I get up early so I can get myself breakfast and start getting myself ready before I have to wake Chica Marie. Love Bug usually wakes up on his own and demands I put SpongeBob on the TV. Once Chica Marie is dressed and taking her meds, I get Love Bug changed so after they can brush their teeth together and I can fix their hair. I try to do Chica Marie’s hair every other day, so the hairstyle should last two days. Chica Marie won’t keep the wrap on her head at night and can’t keep her hands out of her hair, so often her hair gets messy and requires fixing, which takes time. Love Bug needed to have his diaper changed again this morning and it was raining, which lead us to just dropping Chica Marie at school and not walking in with her because we were running late. I barely had time to slap some color on my face, run some gel through my hair and dash out the door. I long for those uncomplicated mornings before kids!  

Whisper Down the Alley

“Wow, she has amazing eyelashes! So, thick and long!”

“Yeah, her little brother has great lashes too. Makes me jealous!”

“Does your husband have a brother?”

Er….

 

Chica Marie had a dentist appointment yesterday for her 6 month check-up. The dental hygienist assisting the first hygienist in cleaning her teeth commented on her fabulous eyelashes and somehow the conversation turned into an uncomfortable moment. Assuming the child is my biological daughter, the hygienist joke assumed her eyelashes came from her father, my husband, and asked if he had a brother, implying he would also have luscious lashes. Rather than correct her, I just smiled and concentrated on keeping the wiggly child from grabbing the tools from the hygienist’s hands. On one hand, I’m glad the assumption was Chica Marie was my biological child. But, the assumption that I was married to her father seems ludicrous when the reality is I have never met him. And, I’m not married. Luckily, the questioning and joking stopped so I didn’t have to explain and a simple smile got me through it.

 

When the dentist came to see Chica Marie he explained she had sustained some trauma to her top front teeth which was now causing problems because the teeth are decaying from the roots down. She has an abscess above one tooth, so they must be pulled. We were given a referral for an oral surgeon and sent on our way.

 

And the fun begins. Because TPR still hasn’t happened and somehow bio mom has become available (supposedly), we have to go the painful route of getting her to sign off on every medical procedure. I notified the CHOR case worker and county case worker and now must wait for approval. Here’s the rub, bio mom has this power over children she has seen twice (both times at court) in the last 15 months since visits were discontinued. She hasn’t seen the color of Chica Marie’s teeth, she didn’t hear what the dentist told me, and she can’t see the pimple-like abscess on her gum. Yet, she holds the power to approve or deny the prescribed treatment. We – me, Chica Marie, the medical staff – wait on her to make a decision based on whatever she is told in whisper-down-the-alley style.

 

What’s worse is as of right now I was not granted educational guardianship because bio mom has promised to be available, so all the forms that need to be signed have to go through her. This might not sound so end-of-the-world, but knowing it took over 6 weeks for Chica Marie to be approved to take a new medication because bio mom had questions about it, makes me so nervous. Thursday evening I am meeting with staff to review the need for a TSS worker and the CYS worker will be available via phone to sign off on it only because we set this up weeks ago at a meeting with the school. A meeting that bio mom did not attend. I hold out hope that TPR will really happen next month and we don’t have to worry about all of this craziness. Of course, if TPR had happened back in June, when it was initially supposed to happen, this craziness might have been avoided. Why it has taken so long is beyond me.

 

Earlier this month, when we had the second big meeting with Chica Marie’s school, the woman who approves the insurance payments for mental health treatments attended in person. After having multiple conversations with the mobile therapist, she was frustrated with how CYS was handling the child’s case and wanted to be there in person to smooth out communication. She had worked for a different Children and Youth Services in a neighboring county, so she understood the job of a case worker. When the CYS worker mentioned bio mom having private counsel, the insurance/former CYS worker understood this was a reason for so many of the delays. She said something to the effect that the appointed lawyers generally just urge their clients to agree with whatever terms CYS has offered whereas private counsel will fight every little thing on behalf of their clients. It actually made me feel sorry for the bio parents who can’t afford private counsel because I question if they are given a fair shake in the whole ordeal. Yet, having this whole case drag out, potentially because bio mom has her own lawyer, doesn’t seem fair either. As I’ve said before – there are no winners in foster care.

Speaking Up

Tomorrow is the last day of Primero’s in school suspension. (see the full story here) I am meeting with the head of the Special Education Department and his guidance counselor to talk about my concerns for him to graduate high school. I have a long list of questions I want to ask. Sadly, I also have a long list of questions for the disciplinary team. I heard some disturbing things from Primero and I can’t just let them go unchecked. I’m going to ask to speak to someone in charge regarding the treatment of students in ISS as well as some other issues regarding seemingly condoned physical abuse. I feel like I am walking a tightrope because on the one hand I want address some very serious concerns but on the other hand I don’t want to make Primero a scapegoat or have the school ask him to leave (it’s a charter school, so they could do that and he would then go back to the public high school, which is a nightmare). It’s sad that I have to worry about retaliation when addressing these concerns, but sadly I do. I lived through this on the other side, when my mom was the school board president and decided to homeschool my sister (rather than ask to have her moved to a different second grade class because they didn’t agree with the teacher’s teaching style – my mom didn’t want it to seem like she was getting favoritism because she was on the school board). My brother and I were mistreated by a few teachers in the school who didn’t approve of my mom’s politics or her decision to homeschool my sister. It was the catalyst to getting my brother and I homeschooled the following year, which for me was 8^th grade. I never returned to public school but I did receive a diploma and went to college. So, I know how things could go for Primero and I wouldn’t want him to face those same issues. Still, I can’t let things go unchecked. If I don’t speak up, who will?

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When You're Going Through Hell, Keep on Going

You know you think you are out of the thick of things with one stressful issue and life decides to slam you in the face with several more? I am meeting my stress quota and then some these last several weeks. The end of August it was dealing with Chica Marie’s school and fighting to get her where she needed to be, the stress being from BCCYS dragging their feet on taking care of business. That got worked out on the first so the weekend of Labor Day was supposed to be one to relax and enjoy only it turned into mega stress with Primero declaring he wanted to absolve the adoption and his aunt and uncle were willing to take him in. It continued into the following week with avoidance by his aunt and uncle and a very unsatisfactory conversation with promise to meet and present a united front to Primero that just never happened. There was a little lull in stressful activity last week, just run-of-the-mill lies from Chica Marie and mouthing off issues with Primero, bookended with a busy, busy weekend followed by a hectic week.

 

This week was already queued up to be long and tiring due to my Professional Development Institute training in Harrisburg two days of the week. Those two days I have to get up an hour earlier than normal in order to get kids where they need to go and hit the road by no later than 7 am or I will get stuck in traffic getting into the city. The difference this week was that Chica Marie was in school and not daycare, as before. My plan was for Primero to walk her to school, then walk to his school and I would give him an excuse note for being late, since they both start school at the same time, 8:05. But, my carefully orchestrated plans were all for naught when I got an unexpected phone call Tuesday morning.

 

A friend of mine works at the school Primero attends. He works in the attendance office, to be exact. I was on break from work, chit-chatting with a few co-workers, when my phone started buzzing in my pocket. My caller ID showed my friend was calling me, which was strange for the time of day. I answered and was shocked to hear him ask me to come down to the school right away because there was an incident involving Primero. “What sort of incident?” I asked, incredulous that Primero had anything to do with it, not being the type of kid to get in trouble at school (this was his first time since he lived with me - he said he was in trouble when he was younger because he would get in fights). My friend couldn’t tell me much, only that some student had been caught with an alcoholic beverage and Primero was somehow involved. I was sure it was all some kind of misunderstanding and perhaps Primero was involved as a bystander. I raced from work to the school, my nerves on edge, adrenaline churning in my stomach.

 

At the school I was escorted to a room with another mother by one of the security guards. There was some confusion as to who we belonged to and the other mother only spoke Spanish. I asked her for the name of her child and recognized the name as one of Primero’s friends. When I told them my son’s name, one of the security guards made a face and said, “Oh, Primero” in a way that let me know he wasn’t a fan. He handed me Primero’s phone and indicated there was an issue with Primero and his phone, but didn't elaborate until later that Primero had his phone out and was asked to hand it over but put it in his pocket instead.

The three members of the disciplinary team walked us to a conference room but then decided they wanted to do things individually. So, they moved me back to the office where I sat and stewed for what felt like eternity. I could hear snippets of the conversation in English and Spanish and gathered this mother was dealing with some difficulties with her son, who was one of 5 children. Eventually, one man came into the room and announced he was going to get Primero. I still had no clue what was going on so when Primero walked into the room and defiantly declared he drank, I was aghast. This was so unexpected and so maddening and what a freaking mess!

 

Primero signed to me he would tell me the story later as I sat and listened to what his punishment would be. He was going to receive 5 days of in school suspension which they were going to serve doing community service, moving furniture around on one of the upper floors in the school. My question and concern were for Primero’s academics, not that he shouldn’t have to serve punishment, but would his school work be sent home? To my utter disbelief, I was told he would need to earn points during his time served in order to earn his school work. If he doesn’t earn enough points, he would fail the class for that day. Er, what? How on earth does that make sense? Primero is not a strong student, he struggles so as it is, why would you make this nearly insurmountable for him to succeed in his classes this semester? I was told, then he shouldn’t have gotten in trouble. Wow! So, because he was a stupid teenager and did something stupid (took a sip of a drink a friend gave him), he should pay for it with his education? He isn’t a criminal and I’m fairly certain, being a first-time offender, he would have been given a much lighter sentence by the legal authorities than the school. Not to mention the way some of the supposed professionals treated him and the other kids (there were 5 total) their first day of in school suspension was unacceptable and unprofessional.

 

I’m meeting with the IEP director and Primero’s guidance counselor on Monday to talk about a plan for his graduation. I’m so worried and this whole thing with his punishment has me totally frazzled. Do they want this kid to drop out because he simply can’t succeed given the mountains thrown in front of him? I’m hoping my meeting on Monday will help me feel more calm about the whole thing.

 

So, as a consequence of his actions, I needed to find someone to take Chica Marie to school Wednesday and Thursday mornings because Primero could not be late. I was frantic, reaching out to everyone I thought might be able to do it, including our neighbor and my parents. I spoke to my dad first and he said he would talk to my mom and have her call me. We spoke when we were on our way to Primero’s back-to-school night. At the back-to-school night I had hoped to meet with his teachers but when we got there, a little before 6 we were told the teachers were only there from 5-6 and had already left. This was not clear in their message or email to us and I was irritated. We sat through the Title 1 meeting, which was mandatory but poorly attended, and then left.

 

As the night wore on, my cousin replied to my plea on Facebook by agreeing to get Chica Marie to school Thursday morning after work (she works night shift), so I was only left with Wednesday to find a helper. I decided to call my parents again because I was really running out of hope. BIG mistake. My dad didn’t answer right away but called me back not long after I called him. When I answered I heard my mom in the background, “She expects you to drive all the way down there like you have nothing better to do.” I became so angry I just hung up the phone. I text my mom, telling her I would be sure to never ask them for help again, that I recognize we are nothing to her and how I foolishly expected she would want to be the kind of grandparents we had had in my dad’s parents as children. My grandparents were forever helping my parents by taking one kid to some practice or other event or picking someone else up – when you have three kids involved in various activities it was inevitable they would need to be in three different places at the same time. My mom text me back how she was sorry for being such an awful mother and grandmother, next time she will just get written up for being late so she can take *MY* foster kid to school. And my grandparents only lived a few minutes away, on the same farm, not 30 minutes away like they do.

 

My dad called back and agreed to take Chica Marie to school the next morning. About 5 minutes after our conversation the neighbor called and agreed to take her so I told my dad he didn’t have to do it. I just couldn’t believe how nasty my mom was, without reason. First of all, she could have text me or called me to say she starts work at 8 and therefore wouldn’t be available. Second of all, she could have made sure my dad wasn’t on the phone when she launched into her complaint about me asking for help. And third of all, she could have apologized for saying what she did and recognized that I wasn’t asking to be a jerk, I knew it was an inconvenience, but I really needed help. She did none of those things. She also didn’t respond when I text her an apology. And, the thing is, she probably won’t ever admit she did anything wrong; making me feel like crap is ok but making her feel bad is the end of the world. It certainly was not what I needed that night.

 

Wednesday was picnic day for my PDI group. It was a lovely late summer day and we had a really great time with the various activities, including a fascinating tour of the Fort Hunter estate replete with a live archeological dig. But, I didn’t sleep well the night before and I was up super early. By the end of the day I had not a drop of energy left. My limbs felt heavy, my head throbbed in pain, my eyelids drooped, and I struggled to stay attentive on the long drive home. I fell asleep early and slept fitfully, as I do most nights. I’m in such a sleep deficit that I almost never feel rested.

 

It’s finally Friday now and I’m glad this week is ending. We have only a few things planned for this weekend, one being Chica Marie’s first karate class. I’m supposed to go to my Bible study tonight but I honestly don’t know if I will be able to stay awake. I should try again to make amends with my mom but I’m still upset about her lack of empathy and zero support for me. Today I have been questioning myself if mom was always this way and it’s only being away from her, living on my own, that has shown me what has always been true?

 

To say I’m tired in an understatement. I’m completely worn out. If you believe in the idea that bad things come in threes, this would be the third and hopefully the final bad thing. But, I know life to be tricky. Like waves pounding the shoreline, life never gives us a break; we are never given a moment to breathe and get our feet back under ourselves before the next wave knocks us down. There is simply no rest for the weary.

Back-to-School Nights

It figures the week I have to be in training an hour away two days is also the week both schools are hosting their back-to-school nights. It’s going to be a long and exhausting week, so my angst about doing nothing yesterday has somewhat abated.  

Tuesday night I will be attending with Primero and I hope to score a meeting with his guidance counselor from school so we can work out a plan for him to graduate. I know we need to meet for his IEP but I also want a solidified plan that Primero understands and can follow to get his credits and successfully complete school. I don’t feel like his IEP did a lick of good last year and I don’t know if it’s my fault, his or the schools or a combination of all three, but certainly there is plenty of room for improvement.

Chica Marie seems to be settling into school and by all accounts, she seems to be doing quite well. There have been a rash of untrue stories and some attempted manipulation of the TSS worker, but she isn’t the child who was suspended (how does a kindergartner get SUSPENDED?!) for fighting, nor is she the child whose mother was called during class for not cooperating. I know Chica Marie is still in her honeymoon period, so I’m not going to assume she won’t have troubling behaviors, but so far things seem to be going well and I hope that it continues.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

Single, Working Foster Parent

When I get a phone call from CHOR during lunch, asking for a favor, I cringe. Today my family worker called me and asked if I would talk to another potential foster parent from a satellite location who is single, working and considering doing foster care. There aren’t too many crazies like me out there, so I’m sure my name pretty quickly swam to the top of the list. I agreed to talk to this woman, but now I’m thinking, “Good god, what will I say?!” I mean, is it possible to be a single, working foster parent? I suppose that depends on your definition of possible. Anything is possible, right? It’s possible there are alien life forms streaking towards Earth as we speak. It’s possible I could buy a winning lottery ticket. It is totally possible, just not very likely. So, is it possible to be a single, working foster parent? Yes, it is possible. But, it is HARD. It’s worth it, but it is hard. If coupled foster parents have to be diligent, organized and on schedule, a single foster parent has to be that and more. Just as being a single parent is hard because you are always on, so is being a single foster parent hard for those same reasons. Often times I find myself legitimately asking friends and family if I am crazy, if the decisions I made or am making are sound just because I don’t have that live-in sounding board. And having a support system (which I at one time thought I had in spades only to discover the truth in some friends/family’s tepid support when I really, really needed it), is a necessity, especially as you get started. I suppose these are the things I will try to convey to the new prospect.

Opinionated

Last month I went to my cousins wedding. His bride is a very opinionated vegan, often posting inflammatory things on Facebook decrying the abuses of animals slaughtered for consumption. My father, my cousins uncle, is a farmer, one who raises organic poultry for consumption. Obviously, they are on opposing sides when it comes to this particular topic. My cousin and his bride have visited the farm on more than one occasion, so it is no secret what my family is about. I see it as everyone is entitled to their opinion and can choose to consume or not consume as they please. Sadly, the bride does not see things this way and wants to force her opinion and choice upon everyone. Her wedding, which was attended by nearly 100 guests, was vegan. The food was terrible. There were two different types of rice served one with red beans and one with lentils, a simple spring mix salad with mango and green peppers, platanos maduros, yucca, stuffed potatoes, and something called jackfruit that looked an awful lot like pulled pork and tasted as bad as it smelled. I suppose I’m biased, not being vegan, but the food was truly awful. In fact, half of the wedding party snuck out and ordered pizza, including the grooms brother! Not only was the food strictly vegan, it was all representative of her Colombian culture and void of anything hinting at my cousin’s German-American heritage. Since the wedding, there have been some terse comments on Facebook, with some of the grooms family members grumbling about the awful buffet. The bride is immediately defensive and I can’t help but think, if only she could hold her opinion and truth for herself and allow others to do the same. I liken it to my experience as a foster parent. Obviously, I think it is a good idea to adopt from foster care and that more people should consider it. But, there are a whole host of reasons why it isn’t a good idea for everyone. The same could be said of being a vegan. Certainly, she has every right to her feelings and opinions regarding animal consumption. But, just as I cannot force all adoptive parents to choose foster care adoption, she cannot force everyone to adopt veganism as their lifestyle. And, I think it was sad that she chose to use her wedding as a platform to fight her cause.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

Current Frustrations

Life is so frustrating at times! Here is a list of my current frustrations in no particular order:

 

1. I got the results back from my biopsy and everything is normal. I didn’t really expect to hear anything different. The slick-talking drug salesman, er nurse, tried talking me into the IUD again. When I balked, she ran through the gamut of contraceptives, including some new devise that is implanted in your arm – oh HELL no. When I again expressed a disinterest and explained why (I’ll own up to my irrational thinking – I don’t want to be on birth control because if I were to find someone I don’t want to have to think about stopping birth control or getting something ripped out of my arm), she just came round again to the various options of BIRTH CONTROL I could use. I asked about herbal supplements to help with heavy periods and she had no clue. They don’t have drug reps coming into their office promoting medicinal herbs, I guess.
2. While things between Primero and I have mellowed, this calm after the storm feels like walking on cracked ice. We are being nice to one another but there is still an underlying tension, still a possibility for things to flare up again at any notice. Our joint therapy session was helpful but we were barely scratching the edge of the very giant iceberg. The hurt is still fresh, still aching and while I know Primero’s tendency is to stuff it and move on, I just can’t do that this time. This was major to me not just because of the duration but the ferocity in his apathetic feelings towards our little mish-mashed family. I feel like all the bonding, all the talks, all the good times and bad were for naught because no matter how hard I try to be a good mother to him there is always one thing I will never, ever be – I will never be biological family to him.
3. While I’m not asking for a medal for doing what I do, it would be nice to hear a “thanks” or “I appreciate you” every now and again. I suppose that is asking too much, but I have done so much for Esperanza, it wouldn’t hurt to hear a few kind words. Granted, she did not ask us to take in her three kittens, but still acknowledging that it was a nice gesture would be appreciated. Instead, she text me to ask for her phone number to be changed because I bought her the phone for Christmas and she is still on my plan.
4. Visits with bio mom were cut-off in court June of 2015. TPR was initially scheduled for June of this year but postponed for unknown reasons (at least, unknown to me). CYS has been lackadaisical at best and negligent at worse in responding to needs regarding the children, especially Chica Marie in starting her new meds and getting paperwork handled for school. TPR was supposed to happen in September but is now scheduled for the end of October. After the two meetings with Chica Marie’s school, CYS agreed to get a court order to handle certain permissions and/or to get me educational guardianship, allowing me to sign necessary paperwork. The court order was drafted and awaiting the signature from the bio mom’s attorney. An email earlier this week stated bio mom would be available to sign any necessary paperwork, as needed. Are you SERIOUS?! Bio mom’s absence, as documented by the 9 phone calls, 3 emails and 2 letters from CHOR, was what held Chica Marie up from starting her new meds. With TPR looming and various incidents of bio mom being unavailable, how are you seriously going to let things go on like this? Wow, just wow. Chica Marie (and Love Bug, for that matter) deserves so much better than this! Welcome to our broken system where children are taken for their safety only to be treated like crap by bureaucracy.  
5. I have been trying to have a conversation with Primero’s uncle since our horrid conversation Sunday night. When we called him that night he didn’t want to talk, asking for us to meet on Monday. He indicated he had some errands to run in the morning but would be available in the afternoon. I text him just before 2 asking to have a chance to talk. He reiterated that he needed to run some errands but would be sure to contact me later in the day. Tuesday evening we drove to his house to get Cousin so she could help Primero get the kittens. Uncle came out to the car to chat, briefly. It was not the time or place, in front of the kids with the car running. He asked me to call him that night. I put the little ones to bed and called him around 8:30. He didn’t answer and he didn’t call back. Yesterday I drafted a message to send to him via text and on Facebook messenger. In essence I was trying to put him at ease, if he thought I was trying to be adversarial I wanted him to know that was not my intent. I asked him to meet with me so we could discuss three main topics and so we could get out in the open the things I’m sure we have both heard about one another from Primero. Crickets. It looked like he read it on Facebook messenger, but no response at all. So, we are stuck at this uncomfortable impasse and my hands are tied. I have tried everything, short of sneak attacking him in his home, to have a simple conversation regarding not just the issues from this past weekend but previous things and pave a way for smoother sailing going forward. What more can I do? I’m not trying to be aggressive, but I am also not comfortable with Primero visiting until we have cleared up a few things first. Primero gave the excuse that his uncle was tired and busy. Really? As a single, working, mother of three, I think I can safely say I know what busy and tired is, yet I would make time for this meeting because it is important to me. I guess that’s the rub; it’s just not important enough for him to make time to talk to me about his nephew. And it is so, so frustrating!
6. I have been dabbling in online dating for several months now. Most of the time the conversations peter out before any plans to meet can be solidified. And, if that’s not frustrating enough, constantly having to start over and get to know someone, there are also some real winners out there. Some are too needy and cannot fathom not getting all of my attention 100% of the time. It’s called being an adult, but sure blame it on the kids. Some are nice but noncommittal in making plans, just throwing ideas and times out at random with no follow up. Some move too fast, thinking we should be living together by the end of the week. The worst are the rude ones. I was talking to one guy for a few days and then one evening, out of the blue, he text me to tell me my new short haircut is “gross.” He asked me to grow it out for him. When I called him on his rudeness and refused to kowtow to his demands, he called me an ugly, short-haired dike. So, after touting himself as some super nice guy who never gets a chance, it turned out he was a super ass who couldn’t stomach a strong woman. No thanks, I’ll pass. Next, please!  
7. Speaking of my short hair, it has grown considerably since the cut two months ago. I feel it is at an awkward stage right now and I struggle with styling it. My hair is thick and not really straight, although it loses a lot of the body when it’s short, so there aren’t really any curls to speak of, except this annoying one at the base of my neck. So, I try to keep the back of my hair from sticking out and making me look like a mushroom while trying to coax some body into the front. I thought about getting it cut again and having the stylist thin it out, but a friend talked me out of it because the shorter pieces would most likely end up sticking up all over the place. So, I just have to hope it grows through this stage quickly and not feel too frustrated with the progress.

Soft Kitty

I’m an idiot. A total glutton for punishment. Yesterday, while we waited to see my therapist, Primero announced Esperanza had no choice but to release her and Cousin’s kittens into the concrete jungle. Esperanza had moved in with their uncle on Labor Day and Cousin was moving back to her mother’s place in Connecticut. I couldn’t see letting the innocent kittens become roadkill or dog meat, so I said I would take them to the Animal Rescue League so they could find new homes. You don’t see where this is going yet?

 

After the therapy session we picked up the little ones and went to the grocery store. I needed a few things to make dinner and the dogs needed dog food. While we were grocery shopping Esperanza text Primero telling him her former roommate was angry about the kittens and wanted them gone like 5 minutes ago. I had wanted to go home and make dinner and then get the kittens but our time table needed to be adjusted. We drove to his uncle’s house to get Cousin (who still had a house key), drove her to their house to gather three smelly, hungry, scared kittens, only to turn around and take her back to Uncle’s house and return home with the kittens. It was now after 6 and the little ones were starving. I tried to make dinner as quickly as I could because we needed to get to the ARL before 8 when they closed. Primero bathed the kittens, who had sat in their own urine and feces since being penned up on Monday.

 

We finished dinner around 7:30. We were not going to make it to the ARL plus, Chica Marie needs to get to bed a little earlier for school. Primero asked for a week to find homes for the kittens because he was so sad about taking them to the shelter. And, he has been negotiating for one kitten to stay because his cousin wants to reclaim this kitten when she returns to town at some point in the future.

 

And this is how it goes when I decide to do a good deed! We now have three kittens in addition to our two dogs and two cats. Because I’m too soft.

Open Adoption Hell

Last week was very stressful, things were crazy with Chica Marie’s school and I had to have a biopsy and the emotional fallout from that – I was just a mess. Rather than recuperating over the weekend, my stress went off the charts as I felt like I was raked over the coals emotionally. I managed to do nothing yesterday but that didn’t make it a day of relaxation. I really need to find time to de-stress and soon because I feel like I’m mere inches away from a total breakdown.

 

I had hoped for a quiet weekend, but things started out with an aborted sleep-over Friday night. Esperanza and Cousin were at my place when I got home from work. Primero didn’t have school, so he invited them over in the afternoon. He didn’t clear this with me and I had hoped to have just us four for dinner, since we eat out and I didn’t have a ton of money for dinner that night. Unfortunately, with two extra guests, the only dinner I could afford was fast food. The teens were having a good time, joking about a cute boy behind the counter and being silly. We went back home and were just unwinding together in the living room when Esperanza abruptly got up and left the room. She went downstairs to Primero’s room and the other two teens soon followed. After a few minutes Primero came back upstairs to ask me my opinion on what was happening. Esperanza was having issues with her landlord claiming she wasn’t paying rent when she was and stating the other roommate was angry about Cousin living there. It was a jumbled mess and sadly, the only advice I had was to leave and find another place to stay. Esperanza stated she needed to go home and refused a ride, choosing to walk instead. Of course Cousin was going with her, but two pretty young girls walking through the city at night – not the best of ideas. Primero wanted to walk with them, which I refused. But, I could see on his face and in his mannerisms, this was going to cause a problem. He has a high need to take care of his sister, to be her protector even if she doesn’t want him to be. So, to avoid issues between the two of us, I asked if he would feel better chasing her down. We grabbed the little ones and strapped them in the van to drive after them. When we saw them, we pulled over and Primero jumped out to talk to them, leaving me and the kids in the car waiting. Primero came back alone, stating the girls were going to walk and check in with him periodically and he was ok with that. So, we drove the short distance back home and I spent a lot of time biting my tongue and not saying what was on my mind.

 

Because I had already agreed to take her to work when she was staying over, Saturday morning I got myself and the little ones ready to go so we could leave the house by 11 to drive Esperanza to work. Primero got out of bed and was tired and dragging his feet so we made Esperanza late to work. Cousin came back home with us. Primero stated Hermano was on his way with his girlfriend and new baby for a visit. They had a few places they wanted to visit while in the area and would let us know when they were headed to our house. The house was a mess because we’ve been so busy this summer I haven’t had the time or energy to get it cleaned up, at least not to my standards. So, I started cleaning the living room, asking Primero to help. Since the little ones were napping, I decided to jump in the shower before the company arrived.

 

It’s not easy seeing a brand new baby with these kids as parents. The baby is tiny but Love Bug was smaller, although I don’t remember him being so small, I know he was. Primero changed the baby’s diaper and tried to get him to open his eyes. I was worried that Love Bug would be jealous seeing us hold the baby but instead he was very interested in the baby, wanting to hold him and look at him. It was very cute. The mom looked totally spent and I felt bad for her since she was the one driving. She brought along two of her friends but I guess neither of them drive. After visiting us they took the baby to visit Esperanza on her break, then off to one of the mom’s friends places before attending the cook out at the uncle’s house.

 

Primero’s aunt and uncle moved from their apartment into a town house just outside the city. The decided to have a cook out and invite everyone over to celebrate their bigger space. There were a lot of people at the cook out, mostly family, including Primero’s youngest sister and her brothers who know Chica Marie and Love Bug from daycare. The kids were playing nicely together, except Love Bug kept throwing things over the short fence into the back alley. And Chica Marie was picking berries off a holly tree and pretending to eat them while Love Bug was not pretending. I spent my time chasing after the kids, trying to keep them outside and out of trouble. I asked Primero to watch them so I could eat and he gave me a hard time, treating me like I had the plague or like I was the dumb dorky kid in school he got stuck doing a project with and resented me and need to put me down to act cool in front of his friends. Not great. So, when he finally came to watch the kids for a moment, he was angry, claiming he couldn’t enjoy his food. I was able to grab a plate but really had nowhere to sit and eat. I ate quickly so Primero could go back to doing whatever he was doing nowhere near me. I tried to interact with some of the adults I knew and some that I didn’t know, but mostly I was chasing after Love Bug and the two little boys he was playing with. There was loud rap music playing with inappropriate language, which Chica Marie reported to me, “Mommy, this song isn’t for kids.” I was beginning to feel sick, with cramps and the stress of the week squeezing every muscle into tight, angry spasms. I text Primero that I was ready to go and he became angry. This is the same dance we have every time. Primero never thinks we spend enough time and I get tired easily because I have to watch the kids more than if we were at home. He came to me and declared his uncle would bring him home. His uncle had been drinking and I didn’t feel comfortable with him driving Primero home, even if it was a short drive. Primero was irate and cocky in his response to me and he stormed off. Not long after that he came back asking to sleep-over at another uncle’s house. And I just didn’t care anymore. I rounded up the little ones and left, only to remember I needed to stop at the grocery store because we had nothing for breakfast, not even milk (Hermano drank the last of it). I got sick at the store and had to drag the two kids into the bathroom with me. When we got home I gave them a bath and put them to bed. Primero came home around 10:30 to grab some things. After treating me like trash, he tried to give me a hug and I told him not to because I was angry with him. He stormed off.

 

I had told him we were going to the farm on Sunday and I wasn’t sure what time, so I asked him to be home by 11 am. I text him at 11:30 to see where he was at. I called him just before 12:30 because he still wasn’t home. The conversation was ugly. Primero was cruel and nasty. He didn’t want to go to the farm, he wanted to stay at his uncle’s place. He asked if he had a choice and I told him no, he needed to go with us to the farm. He came home around 1:30, which was when I wanted to leave. At the farm, he refused to get out of the van. My sister went and spoke to him for a little while and he did eventually come out to eat. After dinner he began asking me what we had planned for Monday. I told him nothing and I knew he was cooking something up. As we were leaving the farm, he finally asked me if he could go back to his uncle’s house, the one he has just started talking to, not the one we see fairly regularly. I told him I didn’t want to answer him right then, I wanted to think about it. When we got home Primero became extremely helpful and hovered while I bathed the children and got them ready for bed. He wanted an answer. I was not understanding the urgency until he revealed he wanted to sleep-over again. After the way he acted that day? No. He flew into a rage, yelling he was going to his room and not coming out as he stomped downstairs. I finished getting the kids ready for bed and let them chill for a bit watching TV while Primero text me how angry he was. I told him I wanted to talk to him once the children were asleep and he said he was too angry to speak to me. After Love Bug was asleep I went downstairs thinking we could talk. Primero was curled in a ball on his sofa with his hoodie pulled over his head, covering his eyes. He would not look at me, he would not really talk to me, just mumble into the arm of the couch.

 

I was surprisingly calm for almost the entire conversation. But, the conversation was awful, just awful. Primero said our families were too different and he refused to see any commonalities that there might be. He told me how he feels cut off from his family, despite seeing them regularly (and definitely more than his younger sisters do!), and he wants to be with them because things are going really good now. After dancing around and around the topic he finally declared he wanted to live with his uncle and that his uncle was ok with that. When I reminded him he was adopted and not in his uncle’s custody, he threatened to run away. He called his uncle, who did not want to talk to me, instead promising we could speak on Monday. The conversation ended with Primero telling me he had made a choice and didn’t care what the consequences and ramifications might be, he only cared about being with his biological family.

 

Let me stop here. There is a lot to unpack from this altercation and I’ve had a lot of very strong feelings about many players in this saga. I’m not trying to cast stones, but I am so hurt and so disappointed in Primero and his uncle for many, many reasons. I feel like Primero was trying to emotionally manipulate me and, since his uncle never followed through with conversing with me, I feel like he is being duplicitous. To my face, he tells me he supports Primero’s adoption and appreciates what I’ve done and what I continue to do. But, if what Primero tells me is true (and since I cannot ask the uncle these things face to face), he was willing to break up our family simply because he doesn’t think I trust him. Well, if I didn’t trust him before, I certainly don’t trust him now. I am happy that Primero’s family is healing and coming back together, but that does not give them the right to tear my family apart. At this point in time I feel like Primero’s family has critically damaged our relationship, that they are no longer seeking to be supportive and inclusive, but they are trying to drive a wedge between us. Had his uncle made it a priority to talk to me yesterday, as I had requested, I might think differently, but at this point I see them as toxic and hostile towards my family. How can I allow Primero to spend unsupervised time with them, to fill his head with lies or promises they cannot keep? His uncle has no legal claim to him. And, as I told Primero, I would have to be dead in order for them to dissolve the adoption because I simply will not do it (not to mention I have no idea what the fall-out might be for the little ones – would I be allowed to adopt after dissolving an adoption?). If the uncle wanted to take custody he had nearly 3 years to do so and didn’t. How can I trust someone who can look me in the eye and tell me they support me, but then turn around and try to undercut the very thing they support?

 

I did nothing yesterday except the bare minimum to care for the little ones. Primero hid in his room. I sat around waiting for his uncle to contact me so we could talk and he never did. According to Primero, he was moving Esperanza into his house. Most of the day I was a bundle of nerves, literally shaking at some points. My stomach was queasy and breathing felt like a chore. Primero did eat dinner with us but then went right back down to his room. He didn’t say one word to me all day. After the little ones were asleep (and Love Bug took a long time to actually fall asleep), I went downstairs to talk to him. It went better than the night before and the tension lessened a bit. But, this huge thing is still hanging in the air and I feel like there has been a huge shift in our relationship. Fortunately, I had a therapy session scheduled for this afternoon and Primero agreed to go along. I’m hoping it will help with things because I don’t feel capable of continuing on. This load is too massive and thorny. I know I am strong, but everyone has a breaking point and I feel I am getting very close to mine.  

Three-day Weekend

This week has worn me out completely. It didn’t help being awakened by Love Bug screaming and flailing about at 4 am. And then I woke up before my alarm went off. I’m simply beat. I wish I could spend a day and a half in bed to recuperate, but that simply isn’t a possibility. The thing with being a mother is you are never off duty.

 

So, some good news. After the second meeting with Chica Marie’s school, they have agreed to let her attend the regular kindergarten class with a TSS worker starting after the holiday weekend. The meeting was rather intense, 10 adults squashed around a table deciding the fate of one little girl. The CHOR case worker came with an intern, the mobile therapist brought her supervisor, the managed care provided (insurance person) attended, the Vice Principal was there as well as the principal and the psychologist was called in to discuss the NORAP (I have no idea what that stands for). Also in attendance were the guidance counselor and one of the special education teachers who was filling in for the special ed teacher who was housing Chica Marie in her classroom. The county case worker participated by phone. The school was initially still trying to send Chica Marie to the emotional support classroom, but after discussing with the county case worker, my signature would not be legally valid on the NORAP form. It would require a court order or bio mom’s signature. The school did ask for a court order so the NORAP referral could proceed, should it be needed, but TSS was already approved via court order and insurance blessing. That helped grease the wheels for the school to accept the lesser placement and allow Chica Marie the chance to be in her kindergarten classroom with her peers and not shoved into a less-academic classroom and never given the chance to prove herself. The school did admit that Chica Marie did well this week, despite the many pitfalls, so I think that also worked in our favor. Kudos to the kiddo for being able to hold it together in school, because by the time she got home she was totally spent.

 

One disappointing thing was revealed during the phone conversation with the county case worker. Several weeks ago she had responded to the question of TPR with a date in September. When she came out to my place three weeks ago she said the date had not yet been confirmed and that it could be the September date or sometime in October. Yesterday she confirmed it would be the end of October. I try not to let myself get worked up about these things because they happen too often and I don’t need that spike in my blood pressure, but holy Hannah Montana! I cannot understand what has taken the county so long to get this date on the calendar! I don’t understand why they didn’t move for TPR right after the visits were cut off, because you can’t be moving for reunification if visits aren’t happening! At TPR, assuming this October date is the one that sticks, Love Bug will have lived with me for 844 days, Chica Marie for 811. I couldn’t keep my composure when this was announced during the meeting. I hung my head in anger, frustration, and disbelief. It seems so wrong to keep forcing everyone to live in limbo, especially when the last court hearing made it crystal clear that reunification was off the table.

 

I know the frustration I have felt is nothing compared to the frustration and confusion of poor Chica Marie. I have been trying to mentally prepare her for kindergarten, getting her ready for what to expect, talking about expectations, taking her to the open house to see her classroom and meet her teacher, only to have to see a different classroom and meet a different teacher. Thursday morning I was preparing her to ride a bus for 90 minutes, giving her two important rules, to stay in her seat and not yell. She has had the worst first week of school possible and not because of anything she has done, just by virtue of her past and her status as a behaviorally challenged foster kid. It’s been a total nightmare and I think it’s amazing that she isn’t balking at going to school at all at this point. I quizzed her on her letters and she only gets confused on a few. Last night I started teaching her words. She will need to learn 43 sight words by the end of kindergarten and she has already missed three days. I won’t let melee delay her education, I will just teach her at home. She is smart and needs to be challenged, so if the school won’t do it, then I will.

 

Tonight Esperanza and her cousin will be sleeping over. This happens fairly frequently at Primero’s instance. I am really hoping for a quiet weekend. I heard Hermano and his girlfriend were planning on bringing the baby for a visit. It’s a three hour drive, round trip, so I’m not sure if that will come to fruition. My sister and her husband are going to be coming up this weekend. They are in the process of buying a home and want to celebrate. I think we are having a cook-out at my parent’s place. I had thought about going to the pool, but then I heard it was supposed to rain, so I’m not sure. I would honestly like to do simply nothing because I am that exhausted, but I know that never happens. I’m just thankful the pressing migraine is starting to abate.

Wheels on the Bus

There was a bus outside my house this morning. It was for Chica Marie. I was never notified transportation had been arranged. I was the only one awake in the house, just preparing my breakfast and the roast for dinner tonight. I saw the bus drive slowly down our block from the kitchen window. I assumed it was for someone else until I checked and noticed it sitting right outside our front door. I was barefoot and in my pajamas. It was drizzling. I sheepishly trundled outside and asked the bus driver if he were waiting for Chica Marie. He confirmed he was. I told him she was sleeping because I was never notified transportation had been arranged. He asked where she was going to school and I told him. He said he would pick her up Tuesday morning at 6:35. Oh my ever-loving god that’s early! I usually only wake her up around 7! I usually only get up around 6:30 myself. This is not going to help Chica Marie perform better at school, not at all. I was worried she would need to be on the bus crazy early and, sadly, I was right. School doesn’t start until 8:05, so this child will be on the bus for an hour and a half before she even begins her day! Insanity!

 

I feel like this train wreck will never end. I’m so angry that instead of being set up for success and a good first time school experience, Chica Marie is having all her triggers flung at her, just setting her up for failure. Her first full day of kindergarten she spent an hour standing around outside the school waiting for a lost/missing bus with another student on it. Luckily, her mobile therapist was there to try to keep her entertained, but I shudder to think what may have happened if the mobile therapist hadn’t been there watching Chica Marie and finding little things for her to do. The child on the missing bus was a runner, so the rest of the day was spent watching the adults try to keep this 5 year old in the classroom. The only thing she did was learn to trace her hand and cut it out, something she already knew how to do! When I asked her what she learned yesterday, she refused to talk about it. I don’t think she likes school and who can blame her? She is stuck in a classroom where she doesn’t belong and things keep changing for her! Just this morning I had to explain she would be riding a bus, which had not been part of our previous narrative. I had to explain she needed to stay in her seat and not scream on the bus. My hope is she will sleep, since it is picking her up so early. Leaving her without structure, constantly changing her schedule, restructuring her day, causing her to up earlier with no afternoon nap – these are the things that are going to accelerate Chica Marie’s undesirable behaviors! I don’t understand how the school doesn’t get that?