Every Party has a Pooper

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

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

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