Furever Homes

Thus far, in our dog fostering experience, we have had our very first dog be adopted into a great family, plus two kittens who also found great new forever homes. Our second dog foster ended in what is called a “foster fail,” meaning we failed to allow the dog to be adopted. It’s the total opposite of how things are in child foster care, where the desire is for children to be placed in a home that, if they are not reunified, they can stay permanently. So, we have a new dog, Sherlock (who we sometimes call Bailey). We had a 7 week old puppy, who we named Mabel, but she recently went onto her forever home. The same day we got Mable, we said good-bye to our third foster, Skye. Chica Marie had some difficulty when Mocha (the first dog) and the kittens were adopted, so I decided to take her along. She was close to Skye and it was hard for her to give her up, but seeing the new family and playing with the children and Skye helped Chica Marie process it all. Skye was with her new family for just over two weeks when we were asked to take her back. Her adoptive family thought she was too attached to Chica Marie and that was why she wasn’t getting along in their house. She refused to go potty outside, no matter how long they walked her and she was mean to their cats. I was heartbroken for Skye but could at least offer her familiarity in coming back to our home. She’s been back for a little over a week and she’s doing ok. She loved Mabel, the puppy, but she seems content being back. I want to take her on a walk and see if she does go potty because I don’t know if I believe what the other family was saying. I wonder if she needs to have a canine companion because she loves Sherlock and the puppy and if Prancer (our little Pomeranian/Chihuahua mix) would let her, she would love Prancer too. She is young, just a year old, so she does need training, but I think she is trainable, she wants to please, she loves people. It was hard for Chica Marie, as much as she loved getting Skye back, she struggled with understanding how the adoption could be dissolved. We are still talking about it, bit-by-bit, especially now that her adoption is back on the table. Still, it does give us a framework to talk about her adoption, without talking about her adoption, so I think, in some ways, it is helping us as much as it is helping the dogs. At least, I hope it is. Hopefully, soon Skye will find her forever home. Again.

Embracing My Life

I know I just wrote about this topic a bit ago but it’s such a break-through thing for me, I have more to say. Even though I have been mostly single (with just 3 short-term relationships) since my ex-husband left, I held onto the fantasy that I would meet someone and, biology be damned, we would make a miracle baby. So, I needed to be prepared. I needed to have things ready and available for this invented miracle. In nearly 6 years it hasn’t happened and the likelihood of any pregnancy that doesn’t include advanced medical help, is slim to none – as it has always been. Still, even with the writing on the wall, with my age ever marching forward, I kept the things. Maybe I would get another baby in foster care. Yes, that is a possibility. Only, it really isn’t. But, as we all know, I am not good at letting things go. I’d like to be and I’m doing better with that, but I really get stuck on things sometimes. So, finally being willing to part with the paraphernalia that I have tucked in my basement and closets and under my bed, in hopes of something miraculous happening, well, it’s just a big deal to me. It’s such growth to truly be ok with my life as it is because I have spent nearly a decade fighting the hand I have been dealt in life, refusing to give up the dream of motherhood, and pushing forward even when the path was obscured and treacherous. I don’t regret pushing so hard to be a single mother. I don’t regret my children in any way, rather I’m astounded that I get to be their mom – I mean, how lucky am I to have three beautiful children?

 

When my ex-husband left I was crushed at losing our relationship but, in a more complex way, I was devastated at losing what I called my “chance.” I didn’t want to give up, even if we weren’t using any medical infertility, I wanted to believe there would be some magic that would cause me to fall pregnant. Of course, if I wasn’t in a relationship, not having sex, that possibility was also gone. Somehow, in my twisted mind, being prepared would somehow make the impossible a possibility. You know, if you build it they will come? Yeah, something like that. My greatest fear, at that time in my life, was being alone and childless. I just couldn’t fathom making anything of my life beyond a marriage and children. And that’s pretty sad, but it’s my truth. So, I pushed hard to become a mother, even though it’s been very trying and I really wish I wasn’t doing it alone. My ex-boyfriend and I talked about having a baby and I had to explain to him at least a half-a-dozen times why it was not very likely I could ever have a child, let alone conceive without expensive medical assistance. I wished he would just google PCOS, but instead I spent a good deal of time explaining how it affects me and why it means I can’t just get pregnant with lots of sex.

 

I thought I might be willing to discard or gift the things I used for Love Bug, but having him grow out of things only made me hold onto them more tightly. Partly because I wished I had been more present when he was tiny. He was a tough baby and didn’t sleep much, so my sleep deprivation was at partial fault but really, the biggest obstacle I had to throwing my whole heart into loving Love Bug was the uncertainty of his place in my life. He was a foster baby and while I loved him, I had to keep a portion of my heart safe lest he be taken away from me, like other baby’s had been. I think back now, knowing he isn’t going anywhere, and wish I had let myself wholly love him. Maybe he sensed my hesitation and that’s why he’s so attached to me now? I don’t know, but thinking that Love Bug would be my only child that I got to feed a bottle and bathe in a baby tub, it made me feel like I needed to hang onto all of it more, to not let go of things. But, that isn’t really healthy, so I’ve got to let it go.

 

So, I’ve come a long way to now be ready to part with the things I so painstakingly collected and stashed for my imaginary baby. I’m not saying I won’t cry as I pack it all up for a baby that isn’t mine, but I’m hoping it will end up being freeing and cathartic to get it all out of my house. No more waiting for an imaginary, possibly impossible baby. It may have taken me longer than I might have liked, but I’m now ready to embrace and live the life I have instead of the one I wanted before infertility changed my plans.  

Infertility Never Goes Away

I think, somewhere in the dark unreachable recesses of my mind, I thought infertility would go away once I became a mother. Not that I would become fertile, but that the unfairness, the raw emotions of not being able to conceive and bare life, it would somehow lessen when children started calling me Mommy. I see now how hopefully naïve that unconscious thought was because infertility never really goes away. It does lessen with time, the sharp sting of a pregnancy announcement loses its burn after a few minutes or hours, not days or weeks like before. But, the barb is still there, the sting is still felt, even if the recovery happens more rapidly. I was recently reminded the sharp contrast between the fertile and infertile world. I had been referred to the Weight Management clinic by my family doctor and had been attending nutrition classes. As a cap-off to the nutrition classes, I was scheduled to meet with a dietician to talk about my specific nutrition needs. We talked about how hard it is to get in work-out time with little kids and a busy life. At one point, after talking about trying to squeeze in work-out time on the weekends, she mentioned this is just the season of life I am in and soon the little ones would be independent teenagers and I would forget all about life with young children. “It’s like child birth,” she said and I felt just as if the words had slapped me across the face. Of course she thinks my children are my biological children, it is the default assumption. But, having never experienced child birth, I cannot compare anything to it and that realization and recognizing that in conversing about children with strangers I will always have to debate on whether or not to “out” myself or just let them think what they think. In this case, I opened my mouth but then quickly shut it and I didn’t tell her I could not compare anything to child birth, having never experienced it myself. I probably won’t see her again, even if I decide to take the weight loss meds, so she doesn’t need to understand I don’t fit into the default setting of conception, birth, motherhood. Infertility is and always will be a part of my life, I cannot control when or how it will sneak up on me. But, I can control how I react and my hope is I can react like I did this morning; I heard it, the words hit me, but then I shrugged them off because the fertile world does not see the infertile and I don’t have to be their introduction to reality. I can choose to not out myself and just go on with my day. I imagine, if I had been able to have a biological child, I would struggle immensely with not telling everyone the baby was a verifiable miracle because I wasn’t able to have children. Infertility never goes away, you just get wiser in not letting it control your life.

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Walking on Sunshine

I have good news coming out of the woodwork this week and I’m giddy like a school girl in a candy store! My heavens, I was so READY for this! Yes, yes, yes! You know, sometimes you don’t know how down you are because you just keep putting one foot in front of the other. That is, until the clouds break and suddenly you are bathed in warm, intense, bright sunlight, just a sparkling beam of goodness. And, bathed in that sunny euphoria, beaming from ear to ear just letting the good feelings wash over you! It’s been a long time coming, this real good feeling!

 

Let me start with the news that the county is ready to finalize the adoption for BOTH Love Bug and Chica Marie. Like totally, just-need-a-date, ready. Can I get an AMEN?! Wednesday night the CHOR case worker, the county case worker and our two new Family Based therapists were over at the house. It was chaotic, as it usually is with the 4 dogs (oh, yeah Skye’s adoption failed and she came back Monday night) and the kids. I was busy trying to keep the kids calm and occupied while making dinner and Primero always has to try to have an important (to him) conversation with me when case workers are over, so I was semi-distracted, but I did hear the county case worker announce she is ready for us to get a date for adoption and I had to scrape my chin off the ground. Lots of other conversations were going on, but I held on to that wonderful news. And, she notified me a few days after the meeting to approve the adoption stipend, which will stay at the same level it is now, so more good news!

 

I know I reported just breaking up with my boyfriend and the strange text conversation we had a few days afterwards. I hemmed and hawed about breaking up with him for some time, mostly because there wasn’t anything wrong with our relationship, I just wasn’t feeling “those” feelings. Even after the awkward messages, when I realized he was already out looking for someone else, I felt a little bad about ending it. Thursday night I met a friend for drinks and there has been an attraction between us previously, but we were both married to different people. Well, that (sadly) isn’t the case anymore and the chemistry I knew was lacking in my last relationship is magnetically strong between us. We had a wonderful time and plan on seeing one another again. It just hit home how different things are when you have a connection because I came home laughing, thinking of him and when we would see one another again. Such a stark contrast between what I just ended! I felt like I had to force myself to do everything, but with this new guy there’s no need; I genuinely enjoyed our time together and can’t wait to spend more time with him. And, I know there’s baggage (he has three kids and I know his wife) and things might be complicated, so I’m not rushing into anything serious. It’s just nice to know what it’s like to enjoy seeing someone. It’s nice to know it’s possible because for too long, I really thought it wasn’t a possibility for me.

 

I know all good things must come to an end, so this good-feeling sunshine might not last, but I plan on enjoying it and soaking in every single ray while it lasts!

Pay It Forward

I’ve written before about my hoarding tendencies. I spent most of last year purging the house, yet the end results don’t really feel that different other than there are a few shoes I donated that I am now missing. But, I still have a lot of baby things that we are not using but storing and taking up space that could be used for other things or just to give us more breathing space in our cramped quarters. Esperanza has a friend who is 6 months pregnant and has nothing, not a thing, for the baby. So, I’ve entered an internal war with myself to part with the things we are not using. I have two pack-n-plays because I bought one and someone gave me one. I don’t need one, let alone two. I have bottles (the nipples should be replaced), clothing, a high chair, bouncy chair, swing, and baby bath all collecting dust in my basement. Why not give it away to someone who could really use it? Esperanza’s friend is not working and her mother only gets SSI. The baby’s father is not helping. It’s not a good situation and the things I’m hanging onto for purely selfish and emotional reasons could make a difference to this young mother. So, I’m trying to make peace with giving up the things I’ve been holding onto. It felt like I waited a long time to use the items I slowly collected and now they are right back into storage.

 

I think my problem is irrational thinking. I have it in my head I’m still a foster parent and so I need things at the ready, but in reality I am not a waiting foster parent. I haven’t spoken to anyone at CHOR about after adoption because I’m sort of fearful, if I’m totally honest. Foster care has been my thing, the thing I’ve been focusing on since my divorce, the thing I’ve found to be both incredibly difficult and incredibly rewarding. We’ve been doing doggie foster care since May, but it’s not the same, not at all. So, I suppose it’s time to face this thing and start preparing for the next chapter of my life. I don’t really want to stop fostering, but for the moment I think I will have to based on space requirements. At some point in the future I think I might start again, but there’s no reason to keep so many baby items for that prospective future time. I just need to do this quickly before I lose my resolve.

Momma's Boy

I was talking to our adoption case worker about my worries that Love Bug was too stuck on me. He still seems so needy; needing my attention, cuddling, coddling, and just needing his momma. I worried he was not acting in a developmentally on-target sort of way. The adoption case worker laughed and said, “that’s just how boys are with their moms.” Well, clearly not all boys. I mean, Primero wasn’t a baby when he moved in, so I can’t gauge by him. He did enjoy laying on my lap, asking me to play with his hair, when he was younger. He used to snuggle with me more than he does now, but he still hugs me most nights before going to bed, so there’s that. My own brother wasn’t much of a momma’s boy. But, since I was a child (and a daddy’s girl) I can’t really rely on my own memory. It’s something I will have to remember to ask my mom. Chica Marie likes to cuddle, she likes to snuggle, but she doesn’t have an absolute break-down if I cannot pick her up and nuzzle her into my neck the way Love Bug does. I feared I was spoiling him or babying him too much. He is just super-attached to me, looking for me every day at daycare, crying for me when he isn’t feeling good in normal ways but also needing to sleep with me, touching me. The case worker assured me he is just a momma’s boy and eventually I will miss the cuddles and snuggles, but if he’s like her son, he’ll still be ok with cuddling well into his teen years. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, that sounds pretty awesome. I’d take some Primero snuggling and he’s 18, so I guess a momma always wants to cuddle her kids. I joke that Love Bug will be sleeping with me until he’s in his 30’s but there might be some truth to that!

Breaking-up Is Hard to Do

I swear there are times when things happen and I just can’t imagine them happening to someone else. Here’s the story. I broke up with my boyfriend over the weekend. We didn’t have a fight, nothing major happened, I just didn’t see our relationship going anywhere. A spark was missing. I kept thinking it would happen, the chemistry would eventually show up, but after nearly 6 months it still hadn’t and when I forced myself to consider the future I knew I wasn’t happy. So, I ended it. He was not pleased. Not at all. See, he saw things differently than I did. He was really into me and thought things were going well. I didn’t. I felt he was very closed off and couldn’t give me what I needed emotionally. I think I knew this was coming months ago but I kept pushing forward, thinking that spark would just pop out of nowhere.

 

I felt bad breaking up with him, really I did, he was a nice guy, decent, good to me. I spent most of the next day second-guessing myself. Then, the very next day (so two days after breaking up) I get a random message on my phone from a number I don’t know. It was some guy I had apparently dated (back when I was in the online dating circuit) and he was trying to reconnect. We chatted a bit before he asked for a picture of me, to see if I was the same person he remembered. He sent me a picture and would you believe it was the very same boyfriend I broke up with two days ago?!?! Seriously! I felt sick to my stomach. He kept talking to me, sending me a picture of the woman he thought I was (it wasn’t me). So, I had to out myself and tell him who I was. I sent him the only picture we had taken together. He was angry, again, and said things that made me glad I broke up with him. It was crazy. How do these things happen to me, honestly!

 

So, I’m single again and trying not to freak out about being alone. I know being alone is better than being miserable with someone. I’ve made a vow to get out more and do more adult things that might allow me to meet someone more organically than online dating. Online dating just doesn’t work for me, I can’t really tell if I have any chemistry with anyone and spend way too much time weeding out the freaks and sex fiends. I guess if I’m meant to be with someone it will have to happen in a way I don’t yet know. And that is so f-ing scary! Fate has not been a kind mistress to me, so it seems a fool’s errand to let meeting a special someone up to her maniacal means, but I think it’s the only way for me. Gulp!

Boricua

Just before the new year the kids grandmother text me, telling me she was sending the number of Chica Marie’s Puerto Rican grandmother to me so we could communicate. The paternal grandmother was asking to FaceTime Chica Marie and Grandma wanted to leave that up to me. She must have also given the other grandmother my number because no sooner had we finished texting when a call from Puerto Rico appeared on my phone. The conversation was brief and strange because Chica Marie doesn’t speak Spanish and her grandmother doesn’t speak much English. The one thing the grandmother made clear was that she wanted Chica Marie to live with her, that she had tried to get her before and failed. She hopes to be able to come to the US to visit us soon. I translated for Chica Marie, who immediately became obsessed with her Puerto Rican grandmother, saying how she wanted to go stay with her (I did not translate that portion of the conversation). I have many more questions than answers about all of this. I wonder why Grandma didn’t put us in touch with one another sooner, for one. I don’t know what PR grandma knows about Chica Marie’s situation, but “getting” her isn’t really likely considering paternal rights have been terminated and she lives in a different country, thousands of miles away, which has sadly been decimated by a hurricane and not yet recovered. I don’t know the likelihood of her visiting, but would be amenable to meeting if she managed to get to our area. We haven’t heard back since the one call that night, so I don’t know how often she might be in contact with Chica Marie. It would be nice to have some communication with her paternal side of the family. And, I should really start teaching Chica Marie some Spanish so she can talk to them!

 

The secondary discovery was learning Chica Marie’s middle name is her paternal grandmother’s name. I thought it was just a name her mother chose because it’s Hispanic, but now it seems she chose it to include Chica Marie’s paternal family. The plan for when Chica Marie is adopted is for her first name to change to a shortened version of her current name and her middle name to change entirely. Now, I’m not so sure about it. I still like the idea of using the middle name I chose because it gives her a connection to my family by having the same initials as my father and brother and her brother (Love Bug). I like that inclusion. Of course, she will  be getting our last name, but that she might change if/when she gets married. Right now, I’m toying with the idea of giving her two middle names; her current middle name and the one I chose. And maybe just changing the spelling of her first name to eliminate the apostrophe. If nothing else, I’m grateful to know this information prior to the adoption so we can choose to honor both sides of her families.

Mom's Don't Get Sick Days

For me, the very worst thing about being a single mother is never, not ever, getting a break. Sure, I can plan to be away from the children, but I can’t ever hand the planning, the preparing, the problems, or mechanics of our lives off to anyone else. I cannot tag out, no matter the circumstances. I was sick just before the New Year and all I wanted was to sleep in my bed undisturbed. Having three young adults in the house at the time, it seemed like a viable option, but it was not. I had to beg for help and be specific about what needed to be done because if I just said, “do things” nothing would have been accomplished. I had to lay out the plans, specifically what needed to be done. And, even then, it was done to the bare minimum. Single mom’s do not get sick days. In an ideal world, I would have other adulting grown-ups (not the young adults who refuse to actually adult) to step in and help me out, but I do not. I worry if something dire would happen to me (like breaking my ankle and being nearly incapable of caring for myself, let alone other little humans) how we would fare. I used to rely on my parents, but have learned this is not the role they wish to play. I have friends and I’m sure in a real crisis someone would help me, but probably not in a long-term kind of issue like waiting for a broken bone to mend. How does someone get an actual support system that would feed, clothe and perhaps bathe children when Momma just needs to nurse a head cold? Is there a “How to Develop a Reliable Support System for Dummies” out there?

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

No Resolution, No Results

I don’t’ know if it is tradition or just a habit, but most years I set a list of resolutions. I convince myself this year will be different and I will actually work towards attaining the lofty goals I set for myself. Thus far I have woefully under-performed. So, my one and only, small goal this year is to keep my checking account out of the red and stop giving the bank extra money. I am not the best money manager, if I’m being perfectly honest, and I need to be more fiscally responsible. So, this small goal is really a sneaky way into a larger goal that is to get us out of debt. I guess I am of the mindset that if you don’t set any resolutions you won’t have any results. I always toss out the ”get healthy” goal and most of the time I work to achieve it, but when I slip up it takes me too long to recover and so the end results is nil. So, I’m not setting that goal this year. I am just going to keep moving in the healthy direction I have already been in, which is slowly losing weight by getting my hormones and body systems working properly and choosing real, whole foods that are not processed junk, steering clear of carbs and trying to limit portion sizes. I didn’t gain any weight over the holidays, I didn’t lose any either, but I didn’t gain and I’m totally sticking that in the win column because it’s so dang easy  to gain weight over the holidays! I am really hoping the endocrinologist doesn’t stick his nose up at the supplements my nutritionist has me taking because I really think they are helping. It’s not a night and day difference, but my levels aren’t all that out-of-whack. It’s more subtle, but I do feel like I get better (not more, but better) sleep and I have a little more energy (rather than scraping the bottom of the energy barrel and feeling like a limp noodle most of the time). So, I will take it! Here’s to 2018!

Word of the Year

The last two years I have chosen Words of the Year to act a guide posts to our lives. In 2016 I chose Stay, in 2017 Thrive. I wasn’t really feeling the whole Word of the Year thing for 2018, so I wasn’t looking for a word. On Facebook I took one of those silly quizzes to see how I would start 2018 and the word Ready popped up. It resonated with me, being Ready for so many things. I’m ready for finalization for the little ones. I’m ready to work towards a more fiscally responsible and sustainable life style. I’m ready to figure out what is going to work with my hormone mess and thyroid lump and how to live healthier. I am ready for new and exciting things to happen and I am ready for a the blessings coming our way (surely there must be!). So, Ready is my word for 2018.

Breaking Up In a Small Town

 In the nearly 6 years we have been separated I have never bumped into my ex in public. The last time I had seen him was in September of 2015 when he randomly showed up at the neighbor’s house. We did not speak. Last night I had to get a few groceries. In my attempt to be more economical when it comes to grocery shopping, I’ve begun shopping at Aldi’s. Most of the time I still have to go to my regular grocery store, but I do get cheap things at Aldi’s. Usually, I try to not take the children with me when I have to go grocery shopping but sometimes Primero and I divide and conquer, which is what we did last night. I prefer to take Chica Marie because she is occasionally helpful, but last night Love Bug really wanted to go with me and Chica Marie really wanted to stay with Primero. So, the wee one tagged along. We went to our usual grocery store first and then Aldi’s. Love Bug was mostly well-behaved but he was getting tired of grocery shopping. He refused to sit in the cart, so when we were leaving I made him hold my hand to walk across the parking lot. He was on my left and I was guiding the cart with my right hand. We walked out into the night and I saw a Hispanic woman who looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place where I knew her. I assumed it was from work and so I smiled slightly to her until recognition hit me. I had never met her but I had seen her face when I was foolishly Facebook stalking my ex. It was his wife, girlfriend, whatever. The smile was slowly leaving my face as I noticed him walking a few steps behind her. He had this stupid, cocky grin on his face which I met with a stone-faced stare before I looked away. Love Bug and I kept walking, but I was a little shaken by the chance encounter. I was hesitant to walk the cart back to the store, but I wanted my quarter back. Love Bug just wanted to eat the white cheddar popcorn he picked out and he babbled on and on to me, oblivious to my discomfort. I really hope to never run into my ex again because the flood of bad feelings that hit me were hard to shake.  

Speak Into My Good Ear

Probably because I ran myself ragged before Christmas, I was sick for New Year’s. Sadly, Facebook reminded me I was also under the weather for New Year’s last year. I really should do something about that! Maybe my plan for Christmas 2018 will be to take some Airborne or something to help boost my immune system, since cutting out the stress is probably not feasible. You know, unless I win the lottery and can take us all to Tahiti for Christmas.

 

The Thursday before the New Year Chica Marie had a sleep study. I knew going in I was not going to really get much sleep, as “sleep study” is really a misnomer. So, we were instructed to be there by 8:30, which is already Chica Marie’s bedtime. So, as the nurse (who was totally awesome and wonderful and I’m so glad she was our nurse) was hooking the multitude of electrodes and gadgets to Chica Marie’s body, she started feeling the effects of her pill (so we know that works!) and quickly drifted off to sleep after being tucked in with all the wires threaded behind her. Fortunately, I was allowed to use the room next to hers, which shared a bathroom. I wasn’t able to sleep in the bed with her so the machinery wouldn’t pick up my breathing, snoring, or other body signals being measured. The option in the room was an awful, hard, barely reclining chair. I reiterate, I was very grateful to have the room next to hers. I went to sleep at my usual time, around 11. Before I went to bed I wanted to check on Chica Marie but as I quietly opened the bathroom door into her room, the nurse told me she had been up but just went back to sleep. I’m not really sure what time it was, I’m guessing around 4 am, the nurse woke me up telling me Chica Marie was awake and asking for me. I felt bad for not being in the room when she woke up, but she wasn’t too upset, just not able to fall back to sleep. I laid with her, but she wasn’t falling asleep enough for me to leave the room again, so I moved to the chair, ensuring her I wouldn’t leave the room. This is how I know just how miserable the chair was since I didn’t sleep a wink, just dozed until the nurse came to wake us up at 5 am. We dressed quickly and were soon shivering in the frigid early morning air and short car ride home.

 

At home, we found Primero and Love Bug sleeping on the couch together with the Christmas tree on for mood lighting. Quietly, we washed Chica Marie’s hair because the nurse used this awful sticky goop to attach the electrodes to her head. Then we both went back to bed and slept until after 10. We didn’t do much that day and by the evening I was not feeling well. I was shivering uncontrollably and just felt not with it. So, I went to bed early, asking Primero to put Love Bug to bed. Which, to him, must mean letting the little Bug squirm into my bed and sleep with me. This did not help me get a restful night’s sleep. So, I spent most of the day Saturday in bed, trying desperately to “sleep off” the cold and feel better. Spoil alert! It’s didn’t help. Sunday I forced myself out of bed, thinking if sleeping didn’t help maybe activity would, but it too did not help me feel better.

 

For New Year’s Eve I had made plans with my boyfriend to go out to the local winery (our favorite stomping ground) for an adult party. Unfortunately, he ended up having to work and even if he didn’t work, I wasn’t feeling up to going out. I was bummed because I was really looking forward to a nice night, getting dressed up and whatnot. Alas, it was not meant to be. I was on the couch in my pjs with the little ones when the ball dropped in NYC. It wasn’t a bad night, once the kids stopped fighting.

 

The other reason I really wanted to go out on New Year’s was because I wanted Primero to stay home. I was worried about a repeat from Thanksgiving, with him getting drunk and doing things that he wasn’t ok with the next day. He ended up going to the same cousin’s house and I made him promise me he wouldn’t drink. He came home around 1 am and came to talk to me, mostly because he scared the sh*t out of me when he came home. If he had any drinks that night, he wasn’t clearly intoxicated, although my senses were dulled from the sinus infection.

 

My lingering cold and inability to hear out of my right ear eventually lead me to visiting my family doctor the Thursday after New Year’s. As it turns out, I had a sinus infection. The doctor declared the blockage and swelling in my ear was the worst he had seen all day and he said I was tough when I told him it didn’t really hurt. He suggested a neti pot nose irrigation but given the look on my face, he agreed to prescribe me an antibiotic, which I am still taking. I still cannot really hear out of my right ear, but the doctor told me it could take a month for my hearing to come totally back. I’m actually contemplating using the darn nose irrigation doohickey because I’m sick of only hearing my own breathing in my right ear. I just think it’s so gross and I hate the feeling of things going down the back of my throat. But, geezum! I want to hear again! I’m too young to be saying, “speak into my good ear!”  Anyway, the way I see it, this new year can only go up from here! I’m also very glad none of the kid got sick because it’s hard enough momming being sick, let alone caring for sick children too!

Sister Sister

The Saturday before Christmas I had lunch with my sister at a little crepe place near my house. We had a lovely time and it made me feel nostalgic for our childhood days when we would spend so much time together. There were relatively few times I resented being the big sister probably because mostly I enjoyed being a part of my sister’s development and growth. As we chatted over lunch it really hit me how much I missed my sister. I wanted to just capture her and our time and save it in a jar so I could take it out and relive it over and over again. I know both of our lives are busy in different ways and that, combined with the physical distance between our homes, makes it a challenge to stay up-to-date on the daily happenings in our lives. The other thought that occurred to me, after I felt the pang of missing my sister, I was shocked and yet shouldn’t have been that my sister is one of my biggest supporters. She doesn’t have children and doesn’t have plans to become a parent, yet she gets it in ways my own parents do not. She accepts my children with ease and no judgment on how different they are from other children (my mother is always expressing how lost she is because my children are not like the children she reared – she is not trauma informed). Maybe it’s because she really doesn’t have any children to compare to, at least not in a parental sense. In other ways my sister insists on seeing my children as capable in ways they might not be, but her positivity in their abilities is somewhat refreshing, given the negative thoughts of others. So, since we had such a nice time together and since it’s been so long since we’ve spent any prolonged time together, we agreed I should come visit her over President’s Day weekend. We have plans to visit local wineries for wine tastings and whatever else we feel like doing together and I think it’s going to be grand. I’m really looking forward to the visit! 

Pressure

As promised, here is the low down and dirty about the holidays. I had so looked forward being a parent during the holidays, creating new traditions and keeping those cherished from my own family and childhood. But, as I sloughed through the holiday’s this year I resigned myself to just “doing” holidays for the kids. How sad is that? It didn’t help that Primero and I have been in this rough patch for several months now and the additional financial stress of not getting the stipend and having to recover a $600 deficit, well it didn’t make finding my yuletide joy any easier, that’s for sure. Part of the problem is me trying to make these amazing holiday memories but usually I wind up exhausted and testy and, as it is for many foster/adopted kids, it seems the holidays are a rough time for my kiddos.  

 

I feel like a there is a lot of pressure during the holidays. Family Christmas photos to share with the world – hard pass on that, I can’t freely share pictures of the little ones plus the planning it would take to get a Christmas-y picture in enough time to mail/email it to people, nope, not happening. Getting a Christmas tree – I hate fake trees, so we always get a real one, which makes a mess because no one bothers to give the darn thing water. We also manage to lose/damage so many ornaments I’m surprised we still have enough for the tree. Plus, in our cramped quarters, the tree takes up valuable real estate. But, this year Love Bug was really into Christmas and he is still talking about me throwing away our Christmas tree. It hurt him to see the tree go. To be fair, we only got the tree the week before Christmas and we only managed to get a tree because someone gave us a discount. Trees were expensive this year! I suppose we don’t have to give gifts to teachers and daycare workers, but it just seems like the nice thing to do, given the spirit of the holiday and all. This year we made chocolate dipped pretzels and Oreo truffles. Very time consuming, but much appreciated by the gift receivers. Still, I felt like I didn’t sit down for a week before Christmas. By the time the big day arrived I was so tired I just wanted to sleep!

 

So, Christmas Eve I took the little ones to the farm to visit with my grandmother and parents. Primero chose to not go along with us to the farm and I didn’t fight him on it because he promised to go on Christmas. My grandmother is struggling with the year anniversary of my grandfather’s death. Plus, the other side of the family did some not-so-great things that really upset her, so we tried to bring her some cheer. She did crack a smile at Love Bug admonishing her to not touch the cactus in her picture window (because she warned him to not touch it when we first came in) and correcting her when she called him Dear. “I not Dear, I Love Bug!” he said adamantly. We also had a nice visit with my parents before heading back home to make cookies for Santa and get ready for the main event – Santa’s arrival. In addition to the cookies, I also agreed to make an overnight French toast casserole for our Christmas brunch. And, I still had gifts to wrap. Did I mention I was exhausted?

 

So, as I made cookies with the help of Chica Marie (our sprinkle specialist) and Love Bug (taster of the dough – no raw eggs in the ingredient list!), Primero enjoyed his sister’s company in the living room and I felt my little bahumbug Grinch heart warm with just a hint of Christmas cheer. Sadly, the good feeling was short-lived. I realized I did not have enough cinnamon for the French toast casserole and asked Primero to run out and try to find some – hoping against all odds a grocery store would be open at 8 pm on Christmas Eve. He valiantly tried all the local stores, but came home empty handed. In the midst of my cinnamon crisis, Primero announced he was going to ask his friend if he could spend the night. I turned to him and said, probably in a fairly shrilly tone (see the above exhaustion and no cinnamon), “It’s Christmas Eve!” His response broke my heart. I could actually feel that happy little Christmas contentment fizzle and die right in my chest. He yelled, “Oh my f-ing God!” and flung the three dollars I had given him for the cinnamon in my face. It hit me on my right cheek, just under my eye, and as the crumpled billed toppled to the floor, my hot tears of pain followed pursuit. I went to my room to fold laundry and cry. The children were still not in bed, the cookies were not done baking, the French toast casserole needed cinnamon and more eggs (I had more bread than I thought), gifts needed to wrapped and I realized I forgot carrots for the reindeer.

 

Hiding my tears in the laundry, Esperanza text me to ask if I was ok. I said I was not. I was so hurt. I was hurt that Primero would even ask to leave on Christmas Eve, for one. But, I was even more hurt by his vitriolic reaction. I felt like he sucker punched me. I text a bit with Esperanza before Primero came into my room, asking/stating he was going to take his friend his gift. We got into a fight because I could not fathom how he could be talking to me like normal after what just happened. Sometimes he can be so arrogant! So, he left without my permission, with me fuming. While he was gone I got the little ones to bed, after reading the Christmas Story (The Night Before Christmas), which I had bought a special edition of the book specifically to read to my children on Christmas Eve and it seems every year we rush the story for one reason or another. I spoke with Esperanza a bit before washing the cookie/French toast dishes and dragging out the gifts and wrapping paper.

 

Primero came home and wanted to talk to me. I was angry, sad, tired, and just so over it. I told him I didn’t want to talk to him. He sat on the edge of the table and said he was going to talk to me anyway. I told him lately I haven’t liked him very much. “I love you, I always love you, but I really don’t like you lately. You have become so cocky, so arrogant and I simply cannot talk to you without it becoming an issue.” We talked but the night definitely ended on a less-than happy note. We didn’t speak much on Christmas. I basically decided to throw myself into making the most of it for the little ones. Mostly, I was just ready for it to all be over.

 

I am making plans for Primero and I to reconnect. I think we need a moment to just be us together and see if we can go from there. Hopefully things will be better now that the pressure of the holidays is off and it’s business as usual. Until next time….

It's the Thought that Counts

I don’t want to sound ungrateful, although I’m not sure I will succeed. The cold, hard truth is, I hate the present my parents got Love Bug for Christmas. Oh, he loves it! It’s the only thing he played with all day on Christmas. But, I despise the damn thing. It’s actually a lovely gift. They really put a lot of thought into it, I could tell. But, it requires an adult to set it up and it is HUGE. Even the box it came in was incredibly large. It is a huge toy train set, with a very realistic looking engine and cars. The track is hard to set up, meaning I need to do it for Love Bug. The engine makes all kinds of loud clanging, “All aboard!” chugging noise. And, you have to be very exact to get the engine and all the rail cars lined up perfectly in order for it to work. It also requires 4 big C batteries and a 9 volt in the remote control. I set it up three times before I finally got the engine and rail cars to run together on the track without falling off or getting stuck. I recorded the phenomenon on my phone and now Love Bug asks to watch the video of his train because he knows I am loathe to dig it out, move all the furniture in the kitchen (and sweep and mop the floor because let’s be honest, it always needs it), and set it up. My mom gleefully told me on Christmas Eve how big this train was and my first thought was, “but you know how small our house is!” I am not kidding or exaggerating when I say I have to render our kitchen unusable, our back door inaccessible, in order to set up this train. It would be lovely if we had a toy room or finished basement where we can set the train up and let it go, but we do not. We have 520 square feet that we all must share and the train eats up too much space. Even trying to store it in the box was a hassle. So, I reverted to stuffing it into an Ikea bag and shoving it under Chica Marie’s bed. I know it was a thoughtful gift, I know Love Bug is totally infatuated with it, but for the love of God, I cannot stand it! Have you ever had your child receive a gift you hate? What did you do about it?

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

Holiday-Birthday Mom Solidarity

The weekend before Christmas weekend, I took the kids to a brewery in our neighborhood to see The Muppet’s Christmas Carol movie. The brewery, which is in an old fire station, was offering a free showing of the movie, plus free cupcakes, hot chocolate and a craft for the kids. We walked over, well Chica Marie and I walked, Love Bug had a piggy back ride on mommy. I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I had been to the brewery before, with my boyfriend, and it was very nice, but not very full. When we got there, it was packed. Now, it’s not that big, but still there weren’t any seats at the big long tables. A woman waved me over, stating her and her partner would be leaving and we could have their seats. So, I got the little ones settled and a kind old lady brought them cupcakes and hot chocolate. She showed me where the craft was and the movie started. We were having a nice time, the kids more interested in coloring and sticking stickers on their construction paper Christmas trees than watching the movie. Still, it was nice. There was a couple with a little boy sitting across from us and we exchanged some comments. The mom had blue hair, leading to comments and questions from Chica Marie, who has a low tolerance for “different.” At one point, the mom had a soft pretzel, which she didn’t realize was two large soft pretzels, so she shared some with a delighted Chica Marie and Love Bug.

 

As we chatted and shared, we discovered their little boy is about 6 months older than Love Bug and his birthday is the day after Chica Marie’s birthday. As mom’s to kids with birthday’s so close to Christmas, we commiserated about how hard it was to have a party for the kids because literally no one can come due to the holidays. Everyone’s schedule gets busy and it’s a real shame for the kiddos. Then, in holiday-birthday mom solidarity, the mom handed me a napkin with their home address and her phone number, begging  asking us to attend her little guys birthday party the Saturday before Christmas.

 

I decided it was nice to have more family friends and so on the rainy, dreary Saturday, we followed the napkin directions and ended up at the fourth birthday party of a child we didn’t really know. And you know what? We ended up having a lot of fun. It turns out, the birthday boy also had a love of trains, so Love Bug was in his element. There were a few tense moments between the boys because neither one was interested in sharing, but I think they parted on good terms. The theme for the party was unicorns and rainbows and there was a LOT of candy, which pleased Chica Marie. She also had a blast with the party gift she was bestowed, which was farting slime, yippee. It was a little cramped in their house, but everyone was really welcoming and we were kind of celebrities, since we showed up in a situation where many people might not have bothered. I did text the mom that same day because we were coming late due to the kiddos taking later naps. I’m hoping she will someday respond and we can develop a friendship. Fingers crossed!  

7th Birthday

I’ve been quiet for a few weeks now. It’s not that things haven’t been happening, I’ve just lacked the oomph to write about it. So, I’ recap the things I can remember to get caught up. I might do this in various installments so it’s not so overwhelming.

 

We celebrated Chica Marie’s birthday on the Friday before Christmas. I had this big grandiose scheme to go to an indoor water park, something fun and exciting for just the family. Chica Marie was vying for a big party but having a birthday right before Christmas makes it hard to have a big party. Sadly, the plans went awry because I was depending on the stipend I get from Primero to cover the cost and we only got a fraction of the amount I thought we would get. I still haven’t had the chance to call and figure it out, my hopeful guess is that because he turned 18 things needed to be processed differently, like they did after his adoption, and we should get the rest of the month of November this month. At least this is my hope. My fear is something is wrong and CYS didn’t get the proof he was still in school (I emailed it in plenty of time) and we will be up a creek, so here’s hoping that isn’t the case.

 

So, the water park was cancelled last minute and I’m not sure who was more crushed, me or Chica Marie. The missing funds also put a damper on Christmas, but more on that later. So, for her birthday I had plans to take Chica Marie to see the movie Coco, have dinner of her choice and get her ears pierced. I was hoping she and I could see the matinee of the movie while Love Bug slept, but that didn’t happen because Primero didn’t get home from school in time. While we waited, I cleaned the house, starting with the living room, because having a messy house for the holidays makes my head hurt. But, as life goes, I wasn’t able to get much cleaning done due to interruptions. First, Love Bug inexplicably pooped in his pajamas. He has not had but one poop accident since potty training in July. I really don’t know what happened, all I know was he was a mess. A big, stinky mess. So, I carefully stripped off his pajamas and threw them away (they were too small and ripped anyway), trying to keep as much of the excrement in them as possible, but of course some plopped out on the bathroom floor. Then, I stuck him in the tub, rinsed him off, cleaned the floor, stood him on a towel until I could clean and sanitize the tub, before putting back in for a bubble bath. No sooner had I dressed a clean Love Bug when the dogs started barking at the cat, as they do, and Chica Marie squealed, “There’s blood all over the floor!” I thought perhaps the bigger dog (our newest foster) had gotten swiped on the nose. So, I tossed her and the beagle out into the rainy backyard and resumed cleaning. Chica Marie, who is pretty bonded to the bigger dog, soon interrupted my cleaning to report, “It’s not her nose Mommy, it’s her foot.” I peer outside and see a veritable blood bath smeared all over my back porch. Blood and mud had mixed into a red-brown mess coating the porch, steps, and the dogs themselves. Good golly Miss Molly!

 

I needed to see what was going on with the dogs foot and the only way to do that would be to clean off the dog. I grabbed the beagle first because he was smaller and I could carry him from the back door to the bathroom. I plopped him into the clean tub and started dumping warm water over his back, watching the tub turn into a vat of stinky red-brown water and suds. Our tub drains slowly, so the beagle was up to his belly in water before I had him clean. I scooped him out of the tub and attempted to dry him off, but of course he thought he could do better, shaking the water all over me and the bathroom. I mopped up as much water as I could and sent him on his way. I needed to get the big door in, but could not carry her 60 pounds as I had the beagle. So, I scooted her along, through the kitchen into the bathroom. I gently set her front half into the tub and pushed her back end to follow. Once in the tub, she tried jumping out, but I convinced her to stay. Once again the tub was filled with tepid, brown water as I washed and rinsed the dog. I had a hard time getting her out of the tub because I didn’t want her to jump and injure her foot further. I made a sort of hammock with the towel and half lifted, half shoved her out of the tub. Did I mention this is an old, deep claw foot tub? So, it’s a big step up to get in and a big step down to get out. I managed to not hurt the dog or myself and dried her off before trying to see her foot. It was her dewclaw that was torn and bleeding. I tried bandaging it and putting her in the kennel to settle down. She immediately pulled the bandage off, but it did stop bleeding. Of course, after I got her settled, Primero came home.

 

So, I showered and got ready to take Chica Marie to see the movie. Primero had gone to his cousin’s place for her to cut his hair. I warned him to be home by a certain time for us to see the movie and he barely made it back in time. His hair cut was not complete. He had wanted to get some Christmas gifts for his friends at the mall (using my money because he has none of his own), so he dropped us off at the movie theatre and went with his friend and Love Bug to the mall. I liked the movie, Coco, although I’m not sure how Chica Marie felt about it. I was grateful they didn’t show the Frozen short before the movie, I don’t think either of us would have had the patience for that. After the movie Chica Marie wanted to have dinner at McDonalds but Primero, wanted to finish his hair cut. I had explained to him I was going to take Chica Marie to get her ears pierced and then I wanted to take the little ones to the local baseball stadium that they decorate in Christmas lights and had planned to have fireworks that night. And here is where things with Primero got hairy. I don’t know what it is with him, but it seems like since he turned 18 he has become so belligerent, cocky and unreasonable. And, no matter how calmly I approach him, I cannot talk to him. But, more on this later.

 

So, after dinner at McDonalds, we head to the mall to the jewelry kiosk to get Chica Marie’s ears pierced. She had no idea what we were doing and kept trying to guess what was happening next. Once we got to the kiosk and I said she was going to get her ears pierced, she started panicking. She said she didn’t want her ears pierced, she started crying and I tried to calm her down but it took some time. Finally, she decided to go through with it and the two workers managed to pierce her ears simultaneously. Primero took us back home and then went back to his cousin’s to finish his hair cut. I asked him to be back by 9 so I could take the kids to see the fireworks. He got back at 9:30. I would have been a lot more angry if I hadn’t started feeling under-the-weather and had fallen asleep in the chair in the living room. I called him selfish and went to bed early. I was upset that he was so indifferent to the plans I had made for Chica Marie for her birthday. It was only the beginning, as I was about to find out.