Never-ending Court

I am so thankful we didn’t have to be in court on Wednesday. Court was supposed to be held at 10 am. I text my case worker around 12:15 to see if the children had a visit. She said they had just been excused and asked to come back at 1 since they still hadn’t been before the judge. The county case worker sent me an email at 3:30 telling me there would not be a visit. The CHOR case worker and the county case worker were supposed to come over Wednesday evening to talk to Primero about finalization. I text the CHOR case worker at 5:30 to see if she was still coming. Primero called her and she responded at 5:45 stating she had just gotten out of court. She spent the ENTIRE day sitting around waiting for the court hearing. I would have been livid.

When I spoke with the case worker she told me that things did not go as planned. Not only did they have to wait around the entire day, but the kids bio mom did not show up to court. When one of the case workers called her they found out she went to CHOR thinking the kids had a visit. She did go to the court house as asked but declined to participate since she didn’t think she was dressed appropriately. So, they proceeded with the hearing without her. Apparently the mom’s lawyer was gruff with Chica Marie’s therapist when she was testifying and so she became flustered and didn’t give the best responses, thus muddying the waters in terms of understanding how the child reacts to visits. Because of this and because the mom didn’t show up at the hearing, the judge refused to suspend the visits. He did cut them down from twice weekly for two hours to once every two weeks for two hours. Everyone agreed this issue was not really resolved and so another hearing was set for June 19^th and the CHOR case worker thinks the county will ask me to testify. I’ve never had to do that before and while I’m not looking forward to it, I’m not particularly intimidated by it either. I have had to do a lot of public speaking, even as a teenager, so that doesn’t scare me. And, after surviving some highly embarrassing moments trying to flub my way through things in Spanish, it’s hard to get me rattled when speaking to a group. Honestly, the reason I would not want to do it is because I hate saying these things in front of the child’s mother. I do want to prepare and think about the things I would want to say so it is fresh in my mind. I certainly hope the mom’s lawyer does not get aggressive with me, but if he does I can remain calm and respond clearly. I think it would be in poor taste for him to try to speak rudely to a foster parent, but nothing would surprise me when it comes to foster care.  

Failed Respite

Friday night I was supposed to go to a Bible study. I had respite all worked out for all three kids and planned to transport my friend along with me. Then Primero asked to go to the movies with his friend and her sister and I needed to take all three of them to the movies and the girls’ mom would bring them all home. Primero was going to be home alone for about an hour until I finished with my Bible study. The little ones would spend the night in the respite home. At 4:27 my work phone rang. It was the respite home. They were getting a placement of 3 kids and couldn’t do respite for me anymore. I contacted the case worker immediately, but I was angry. This wasn’t fair! I know in the past I’ve agreed to provide respite only to get a placement and I know CHOR found another place for the children to go. In fact, I made sure to make the placement contingent on CHOR finding another solution for the other family. How unfair to be left in the lurch like that! So, needless to say, I did not get to attend the Bible study. Primero went to the movies after we had dinner and I took the little one’s home. I have two friends who have their clearances and I just need to present that to CHOR and then I will have my own respite. This is ridiculous!

Friday morning Primero’s girlfriend text him that there was something she needed to tell him. She made a big stink about not wanting to tell him over the phone, but she would rather tell him face-to-face. She said she did something awful and so the immediate conclusion is that she did something with the former boyfriend turned baby daddy. Primero had a doctor’s appointment that we found out was cancelled once we got the office (hey, doctor’s office, there’s this thing called a phone……) and because he was having issues with some kids at the Resource Center he went with me to work. He needed to leave around 2 in the afternoon to walk to his after school program (which was about a 40 minute walk across town – I wasn’t very pleased with this) to meet the girlfriend and have her tell him the news. It turns out, the baby daddy kissed her. Yes, that’s how she explained it to Primero – he kissed her. I tried to have a conversation with Primero about this latest incident, but he didn’t want to talk about it. Of course he didn’t want to talk about it! He has to see how preposterous this is! His girlfriend has a baby with another boy and now just kissed that boy! Why on earth would you want to stay in a relationship like that? It’s not like they are married or the baby is his, I mean COME ON!!! Not to pat myself on the back, but other than throwing out some suggestions (“you’re no one’s doormat,” “once a cheater always a cheater,” “they need to figure this stuff out and you need to give them space to do that”), I stopped talking when he said he didn’t want to talk about it. But, I really just want to throttle this girl. It certainly doesn’t make it any easier for me to try to like her. I’m beginning to despise her, in fact. I know, I know I need to get over myself about this already. Sunday they celebrated 8 months together (in reality, it’s only 7 months, they miss-counted) and I agreed to let him invite the girl, her baby and possibly her mother to Love Bug’s birthday party. He thinks it will be a good time for us all to begin getting to know one another and I said I disagree because my focus will be on Love Bug and hosting this party, not on chatting with any one person exclusively. Plus, her mother is so sour-faced I’m sure she will just sit in a corner and glare at everyone. Deep breaths, deep cleansing breaths. The party is for Love Bug and I won’t have it be ruined by rude people. Primero is also inviting his older sister and his best friend to the party – he is so excited for them to meet one another. How he hijacked Love Bug’s birthday party is partly astounding and mostly my fault.  

Last night Primero began drawing a cartoon of a couple sharing a drink with two straws, their foreheads pressed against one another. It was his present for his girlfriend. This is the second time he’s drawn something nice for her near an occasion when I thought he might have drawn something nice for me. For Mother’s Day, he did start drawing three small cards. He tried to give them to me when I mentioned being disappointed in only getting a Facebook message (unlike the beautiful card he drew me last year). I gave the cards back to him and said he shouldn’t be forced to give me anything and I apologized for asking. But, I can’t tell you how shitty it feels. Yes, the Facebook post was nice and many of my friends fell over themselves to say how beautiful it was. But, if I’m honest, I simply hate it. I hate three of the 6 pictures of me that he chose to use, to the point that I can’t stand to look at them. I hate that it’s something temporary and easily forgotten. I hate that it was a last minute, last ditch effort because he didn’t take the time to make anything or plan anything – it was an afterthought, an “aww shit, I forgot I had to get her something.” I hate that it was made public, like a publicity stunt, rather than a private thing I could cherish or share with whomever I like. I hate that he didn’t try harder, knowing how hard I’m trying to accept this hideous situation with his stupid girlfriend and her rude mother. I hate that I try so hard to do little things for him on a constant basis and he next to never reciprocates. I hate that all I wanted was a beautifully drawn card from him and I didn’t get it. I need to lower my expectations and then maybe it won’t hurt.

Gearing up for Court

Yesterday the little ones were supposed to have a visit and despite confirming, their mother didn’t show. Earlier in the day my case worker had sent me a heads up email regarding the kiddos having court next Wednesday morning. There was some discussion about whether or not we all had to be there and I asked to be excused because of Love Bug having a follow up appointment with his doctor. When we were at his appointment on Monday he was given an albuterol nebulizer machine because he’s had a chronic cough for a long time and finally had a coughing fit in front of the medical staff. So, we have to go back next week to see how he is doing. I think his wheezing got much worse after using the machine and his cough has not really improved. I called the on-call doctor last night because I was worried I might have to take him to the ER – his case worker was worried about him too. So, the on-call doctor had me do some home remedies (like sitting in a steamy bathroom with him) to help him and his wheezing seemed a little better this morning. But, due to all of this craziness with him I want to be sure to attend his follow-up appointment next week. At first I was told we all needed to be there but then they changed their minds and have excused the children. I’m supposed to be available by phone if there are questions during court. This isn’t a “normal” court hearing, the county is trying to suspend the visits and so they have to provide proof as to why visits are not in the best interest of the children. I know for a fact that it is very hard to get visits totally cancelled, so I think at best we will be looking at a trimmed down visitation schedule (right now it is twice every week for 2 hours each). I guess we will find out next Wednesday. Certainly missing yesterday’s visit is not going to help her case.

When I picked the children up at CHOR yesterday their adoption county case worker was there. I guess she was planning on supervising the visit. The CHOR case worker was also there and she asked if they could both come out to my house next Wednesday to see Primero and talk about finalization. Yes and I’m glad they are because I know we have a lot of questions about where things are at and how much longer we must wait, what more we (ok well, me) must do. I ran into my family worker last week while waiting outside of CHOR for the children’s visit to end. I asked her if she knew where things were at and she said she did not but she would ask for me and get an answer because we deserve that. She did mention that there are things that need to be done that have not yet been done, like up-dating my family profile (since it’s more than a year old now), perhaps up-dating my autobiography, renewing my clearances since they need to be less than a year old, having a physical within the last year, and then paperwork that needs to be done by CHOR for the county. I asked her what I could do to be pro-active and she mentioned the clearances and physical. I need to get the required paperwork to have those things done, since I know they are more than a year old. It would be really nice if I could time it right to not have to re-do it all over again when I adopt Love Bug and Chica Marie. I wonder if the county case worker will still quote the beginning of summer for finalization?  

Captured! Stung!

So I was stung by one of my bees on Sunday. I hadn’t been stung in a while, so I figured I was about due. The hives were going crazy with their honey-making and they weren’t in a mood to be messed with. Ironically, I was stung before I even cracked open the hive because I was trying to get my smoker to stay lit…. Anyway, this one sting was a doozy. I was stung on the top of my right thigh and initially, the sting didn’t hurt too bad. It began to swell that night and the next day when I tried to get out of bed, my leg was stiff and hurt – a lot! I dumped some tea tree oil on it and went on my way, but my thigh was throbbing, hot to the touch, and the swelling had expanded from the size of my fist to engulf nearly the entire top of my thigh from hip to knee (I iced it last night while watching DWTS and that helped). Yikes! So, I turned to my trusted Google and find on WebMD that it appears I’ve had a mild allergic reaction to this sting. Oh, ok. No biggie, it’s not life-threatening just a nuisance. BUT, here’s the kicker. According to WebMD “People who have experienced an allergic reaction to an insect sting have a 60% chance of a similar or worse reaction if they are stung again.” Uh-oh! I’m most assuredly going to be stung again, that’s part and parcel to being a bee-keeper. My father is highly allergic to bee stings (thus the reason why he has stayed away from my hives) and I don’t know if these types of things run in families or not, but it’s highly coincidental. I think, I really just need to look into buying the whole bee suit. I have a jacket with the hood and I have gloves, but I do nothing to protect my legs and so I get stung from time to time. Previous stings resulted in annoying swelling and itching, but nothing to the extent of this most recent episode. I think I just need some bee pants before I find I need an epi-pen for my bee keeping adventures!

In other news, I was on the local TV station today (for our county, so no big thing) in celebration of Foster Parent Appreciation month. I was asked, well practically begged, to attend and speak about how foster families can help birth families in addition to the work they do for and with the children. Because of my work schedule, I knew I would be cutting it close. One of the foster mom’s was outside the building holding a new baby they were placed with just a few weeks ago. I knew I was running late, but I got distracted by the little one until one of the CHOR workers came running out of the building and ushered me inside. “They need you now!” she cried as she shoved me into the room with the other participants. I threw my purse and work ID onto the floor and managed to get in my seat just moments before the camera girl gave the “we’re on” signal. The marketing director from CHOR was the host and one of the family workers was there as case worker to talk about how the agency helps families through services. At one point, when I was describing the photo albums I made as Christmas presents for the little one’s mom and grandmother, the host began tearing up, which distracted me. I mostly talked about my experience with Love Bug and Chica Marie’s mom since it is my most recent experience. And, despite her gruffness, it has been the most successful, since the mom of the two little ones I had in 2013 never warmed up to me. I think, if she and I had had more personal interaction we would have been able to communicate better and we would have had less issues. Perhaps. I didn’t get a chance to mention the interaction we have had with Primero’s family. The show was brief and in roughly 30 minutes I was headed back to work just in time for lunch.

When I was asked at the Foster Parent’s banquet if I would be on the panel for this show, I wasn’t sure I was the best representative of successful foster parent – bio parent co-parenting. I still have a lot of issues with Primero’s mom, things that can’t be resolved because of her current incarceration. I wish things could be better and I feel like I tried. So, I have to focus more on integrating the rest of his family into mine. I guess I just think that if the case workers and all those involved knew what my darkest thoughts have been about the bio families or if they see me on a down day, they wouldn’t be so adulatory of my interactions. There have been plenty of times where I didn’t want to be kind or exhibit compassion towards someone I viewed as hurting innocent children that I loved. I have often felt irritated by bio parents who have placed unwarranted demands on me. Or put up with the anger and verbal abuse or, in the case of the two in 2013, the constant nagging about one thing or another just because they knew it bugged me. I’ve expressed frustrations over family members dropping children off at my home at ridiculous hours or at having my valuable time wasted by long drawn out good-byes after visits (and I know that it’s a hard thing, I do). Many times I just haven’t wanted to “play nice” because I’m the one not sleeping or having to deal with massive break-downs in the middle of the grocery store (or avoiding outings altogether). I guess, despite those things, the case workers have noticed a willingness, that I do try to set aside my petty feelings and do the best I can for the children. At least, I hope that’s what they are seeing. It certainly isn’t always easy!

So, I forgot to report on an incident that happened last Friday. We were eating dinner at a diner near home and had just about finished our meal when my cell phone rang. The number on the phone was listed as Hermano’s previous foster home, the one so far away from us with the super-nice foster mom. I wondered why she was calling, so I answered. She started the conversation by asking, “Is Hermano in trouble?” I asked her to clarify and then explained that he had run away from his foster home in our town and was living on the streets. She said he had just visited her and she fed him because he was so skinny. He was in her town visiting his girlfriend, but he neglected to mention living on the streets after running away from his foster home because he tested positive for drugs. I called CHOR to report his whereabouts, since he was a runaway. I had no idea how this all worked because thankfully none of my foster children have run away. The on-call worker had to call her supervisor who happened to be my family worker. She asked me to call BCCYS on-call, which I did. This took an immense amount of time. We had left the restaurant and drove to the local Redbox so Primero could rent a movie. And by the time I finally spoke to the BCCYS case worker we had arrived home. The foster mom had called me a bunch of times in between asking what she should do and telling me she would be willing to take Hermano back if they would let her. The CYS worker suggested the foster mom call the police, since CYS can’t get involved until the police pick him up. I gave the on-call worker the foster mom’s number and they took it from there. The foster mom called me to let me know that the police had picked up Hermano. They were waiting for a constable from our city to take him to the youth detention center he was in last September. The foster mom tried desperately to get in touch with her agency to beg them to let Hermano stay with her. She was so distraught, worried that Hermano would be angry with her. I tried to soothe her frazzled nerves by telling her this was happening because of poor decisions Hermano had made, starting with him coming back to our city. In her last phone call the foster mom explained that the BCCYS case worker would not let Hermano stay with her because he was too much of a flight risk. She went on the explain that she didn’t think Hermano would be allowed back into a foster home, he would most likely remain in a group home until he turns 18 next year. It’s so sad. My heart breaks for Hermano. I wish it hadn’t come to this, but it did. I asked Primero how he felt about it and he shrugged like he didn’t care. He said his brother did this to himself. He called his oldest brother to let him know what happened. I’m glad Hermano is off the streets but it’s heartbreaking to think he might be held in a facility until he ages out of the system. I don’t know what will happen to him, I just hope and pray he is ok and that he will use this as a wake-up call to get his act straight.   

I still feel bad that Hermano could not come to stay with us. I don’t know that it would have made any difference in the outcome of things and it could have made things more difficult for Primero, so I guess it’s probably a good thing he only visited. But, I think about him often and worry how he is doing. I know he has had a difficult life, just like Primero. Although, unlike Primero, many of his problems stem from his own poor choices versus what was done to him. Hermano has a victims attitude that Primero doesn’t seem to share, thank goodness. Hermano also has a poor relationship with the truth and an unwillingness to see his part in the consequences he suffers. Having worked in the field for a brief time, I would say Hermano has more of an addicts brain than anything else. He is very much like the young men I would see coming into the program where I worked. He’s entitled, he’s innocent of any wrong-doing, he’s been wronged by someone and everyone, he’s arrogant, and he is a smooth talker. Hermano can definitely turn on the charm and I think that’s why there have been so many people, like his previous foster mom, who try so hard to reach him and to help him. But, you cannot help someone who won’t help themselves. What I also see in Hermano is an immaturity. Chronologically he might be 17 but emotionally he is only 13. And I think that too comes from the addiction. I learned while working in a rehab that people stunt their brain’s emotional growth when they start using at a young age. So, if someone starts smoking pot at age 12, their emotional maturity remains at age 12 unless they find sobriety and work towards maturity. I’m guessing this is what has happened to Hermano. I’m also guessing this is what happened to their mother. I hope we get up-dated on how Hermano is doing, but I know better than to hold my breath on that. I will ask if, in the future, we would be able to go visit Hermano at the facility – I honestly don’t know if they allow things like that, but I feel like he deserves to get visitors if he can. We shall see.

Today is our primary elections. I want to try to vote after work, but I’m not sure how I will manage with the two little ones. Usually my voting place has no wait time, so perhaps if there are some kindly grandmas around, I can sneak in and cast my ballot without much fuss. Love Bug will most likely not be wiling for anyone to hold him but me. He has become incredibly clingy lately, even when I take him to daycare. This morning he began to get the pouty lip as I handed him off to one of the workers. She whisked him away before he could really get going, but I sense this is going to become more of an ordeal. I know all kids go through that phase where they freak out if someone else other than their mom or dad try to hold them, but I worry about attachment issues. I wanted to ask the doctor what is normal but I forgot. I think I will ask the Early Intervention intake workers when they come out to see him next week. I don’t want Love Bug to have any attachment issues because of what I’ve done or not done to help him. I do know he has been a clingy and needy baby (I know, that’s an oxymoron) from the beginning. He would only sleep when I held him for the first two weeks of his life. I hope this is just a phase he is going through and that soon he will be ok with trusted adults like my parents and his daycare workers.

God's Treasures

Saturday morning Chica Marie had her PCIT therapy. Her sister did not attend the session and her mother reported she did not have a good session, that she was not listening and she dumped water all over her therapists computer. She was also acting like a baby (talking in ga-ga, goo-goo language and clinging to her mother’s leg) and simply not cooperating at all whatsoever. When Chica Marie and her mom came downstairs into the waiting room, the mom tried to hold Love Bug. He was already fussy because his morning nap had been disturbed, so he wasn’t having it. She promptly gave him back to me, stroking his back and saying, “That’s fine, that’s ok. If Miss [My Name] makes you feel more comfortable, that’s just fine. Mommy just wants you to be comfortable.” We walked outside and began walking down the block to where our car was parked and where bio mom would walk home in the opposite direction. I can’t remember all that was said, but we spent probably 20 minutes talking. I try to avoid long drawn out conversations with bio mom because usually we are in a hurry to get somewhere, but I felt compelled to stand and talk to her. In the sun. Holding a fussy baby. After about 5 minutes Primero took Chica Marie to the car. The conversation initially was about Chica Marie and how her therapy session was a disaster. We talked about visits and how she should be dressed because of the heat. Some mention was made about the older sister and all I said was that I felt so so bad for her being moved again and I had so hoped their grandmother would be able to take her instead. Well, that opened the floodgates and a torrent of tears and instance that she had done “everything” and there was no need for the county to keep her children from her. Of course I heard things that directly oppose what the case workers have told me, but I didn’t tell her that. I mainly just listened or murmured, “that’s terrible” from time to time. What more could I say? She thanked me for taking such good care of her children and even complimented me on how I do Chica Marie’s hair, stating she tells everyone how I learned to care for her hair and now we’re good and bio mom doesn’t have to worry about it at all. She tried to hold Love Bug again but he was just not having it at all and squirmed and cried immediately. This is the case when I try to hand him off to anyone lately. My mom thinks it’s my fault because I held him too much. But, seeing him give his bio mom the cold shoulder made me sad. I felt bad for her. I tried to explain to my mom why I felt bad and she did not understand how I could. Love Bug knows only me as his mommy, he doesn’t understand this whole situation. She said his bio mom made some poor choices and if she is suffering from them, then she must lie in the bed she had made. I get that, I do, but she is also a human being. I’ve made choices that have caused me to suffer – heck I’ve even made “good” choices that made me suffer. Do I not deserve compassion simply because I am suffering, be it my fault or not?

As we were going our separate ways, I asked the little one’s bio mom if I could give her a hug. She was a mess, her hair was skewed (she wears wigs most of the time), her eyes were swelling up from crying, her nose was running and I just felt so bad for her the words popped out of my mouth before I could stop myself and rethink the whole idea. “Can I give you a hug?” She seemed almost relieved that I asked. She kissed Love Bug, thanked me again, and we went our separate ways, both knowing there was some sort of relationship building that just happened. As I carried Love Bug to the car I thought of how different my relationship was with this bio mom than with Primeros’ bio mom. Why can I find more compassion for this bio mom and not the other? What makes one different? Certainly, Chica Marie and Love Bug’s bio mom is not the easiest character to get along with – quite the opposite in fact. Our first encounter she was downright hostile and things remained tense for many weeks and visits after that. She is confrontational and gruff and tries to scare people with her bark. What I have found is that if I just actively listen to her and agree on some of the valid points she makes (having your kids taken from you is terrible), then she seems to back down. She is ready for someone to get in her face, she seems to relish the fight. But, if you act rationally, she can usually reciprocate. Honestly, I think the biggest difference between the two bio moms in my life is that I’ve spent more time with one, had more conversations and have grown to better understand her. I don’t know Primero’s mom other than what he has told me and the few brief encounters we have had over the past year. She is absent more often than not and the feeble attempts I have made to connect with her were mostly rebuffed. It is certainly harder to have compassion from someone you don’t know.

In church on Sunday the pastor talked about how every person is a treasure to God. He was teaching the congregation about the upcoming Treasure Hunt out-reach endeavor we will be starting the end of the month. But, God was using it to speak to me in another way. If all people are God’s treasure, it means they should be treated as such, regardless of how we feel about them. That’s as far as it penetrated until I went up for prayer. I waited for my turn until an older lady was able to come and pray with me. I explained that I really needed prayer because, not only is my son dating a girl who just had a baby that isn’t his, but I was having a really terrible attitude about it and knew it was damaging my relationship with my son. She prayed for all the unkind, mean, resentful feelings to be bound and unable to reach me. And then she prayed, “God, if these two children are to break-up please make it a clean break and help heal all those involved. But, if for whatever reason, Lord You see fit to keep them together, then please help my sister to open her heart to this girl and her child for they are Your treasure.” And that did it. The lightbulb went off. And I knew that I could not continue in my path of distain for both Primero and the girl. So, later that day I apologized to Primero for being unkind and for saying many, many less-than nice things. I said I won’t probably ever be ok with it, but I needed to get my attitude adjusted so I could treat everyone nicely – everyone deserves that. The day before we had been at Target and I bought some cute 4^th of July outfits for the baby. Primero got angry because he thought I was trying to kill the girlfriend with kindness and I said I didn’t mean it contritely, but I was trying to work my way through it and this was one way I do it. If I can spend my money on you, then I’m trying to show you I care (and I don’t mean this in a twisted money equates love or happiness – I just mean I’m putting thought and effort into purchasing something because I hope the other person will like it and see it as a gesture of my friendship). I know I am just a work in progress and I am hoping this is a step in the right direction.    

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Today was my mom’s last round of chemo. I was there  along with her friend from work, my aunt (her best friend) and my father. My sister was also involved via a video chat on Skype. My mom was emotional, crying happy tears as she opened her gifts and cards and the various nurses visited. At the cancer center they have the tradition to ring a bell three times signaling the end of their treatment. On her first day of treatment my mom saw another woman ringing the bell and she cried, “I want to ring that bell!” so today she did. Her journey is not completely done, she still has two more surgeries and tests to be sure all the cancer is gone, but this is an important step in the right direction and certainly one to be celebrated. I was so happy to be there with her.

Last night Primero and I had another very lengthy conversation about this whole teen mom girlfriend thing. I think I’m at the point where I’m just tired of talking about it because I feel like I keep hearing myself say the same thing over and over and over again. He agreed to take a parenting class, I agreed to get to know his girlfriend. I tried to get him to understand how hard this was for me and why it was terrible that he would value his girlfriend’s parents opinion (if they asked her to break up with him, he would have to agree) versus my opinion. We also talked about him not comparing his mom and I together because that wasn’t fair to either of us (as in, “if my mom asked me to break up with her, I wouldn’t listen to her either”). I told him I will never be ok with this, I think it is a terrible idea and terrible choice. But, I promised to try to tolerate this whole big fat mess and so I must find a way to do that. Really, I just have to find a way to move on with my life and grit my teeth and bear it. I have to try not to hate the girlfriend for being pathetic and immature (she is only 16 after all). It all seems so impossible…….  

The Alien

I don’t talk about my brother much because we aren’t really in each other’s lives. It’s very sad, but a choice he made a long time ago for reasons I can’t understand. We are close in age, just under 18 months apart, and growing up we were the best of friends. I don’t think I was ever jealous about having a baby brother, at least not that my parents could remember, but rather I was over-joyed at having a constant companion and playmate. When my little sister came along I had just turned 5 and my brother was nearly 4. I was again excited to have a baby sister while my brother lamented the fact that she was a girl and not a brudder. Since we were older and closer in age, my brother and I spent many years trying to run from my sister rather than include her in our trivialities and play. But, something happened to my brother when he hit age 15. He turned into an alien species that eventually slayed the brother I formally knew and forever inhabits his body. Gone was the boy who could make me laugh so hard my ribs literally hurt. Gone was the kid who would play Barbie’s and dinosaurs with my sister just so they could spend time together. Gone was the brother I could tell my secrets to and listen to his. Gone were the Friday nights we spent cramming three restless bodies into one bed. Gone was the adventurous explorer always willing to traipse around the farm with me, my sister and our dog. Gone was my 4-H partner, my sports explainer, my math tutor, my fort builder, my crazy story teller, my partner in crime, my brother. I tried to formally reconnect with him once. It was during training in the Peace Corps. He had just lost his best friend, the closest thing he had to a brother, two weeks before I flew to Miami to join the Peace Corps. This young man was 2 weeks shy of his 22^nd birthday and his sudden, unexpected death (most likely at his own hand – although this was never confirmed) rocked my family and his. My mom and his mom had been best friends since the 8^th grade and we grew up with him and his older sister. In fact, he and I had been slated to walk down the aisle as best man and maid of honor in his sister’s wedding just nine months after his death. Still reeling from the loss, I felt compelled to reach out to my only brother, thinking he too would realize that life was too short and too precious to be estranged. I wrote a long, heart-felt letter asking for us to put aside the petty things (and not so petty things) that seemed to keep us apart and to rekindle our relationship as siblings. I never heard from him. Not an email, not a letter, not a phone call, not a conversation when I came back home. Nothing. So, I gave up. The alien had won.

My brother put my family, especially my parents, through a lot. For seventh and eighth grade we were being homeschooled for the first time. My sister had been homeschooled starting the year before in 2^nd grade for political and academic reasons. My brother and I begged to be homeschooled as well, so my parents acquiesced and brought us home the following year. Away from the harsh bullies of school, I flourished and enjoyed learning at my own pace. My brother, never one to over-exert himself in school, just coasted along. To be successful in homeschooling takes diligence and perseverance because it is so easy to blow off school work and do other things. For my brother, that “other thing” was the computer. I think it was sometime in 1996 or so that we first connected our home computer to the internet. Back in the day when chat rooms and AOL Instant Messenger were all the rage, my brother fell in love with the computer. He would spend every moment he could surfing the web, absorbing a world that existed only online. Maybe that’s the land the alien came from, I don’t know. Soon my brother was fighting with my parents over not doing his school work and sneaking down to the computer at night to stay connected with his newfound friends. My brother returned to public school in 9^th grade. It was a tumultuous year, to say the least. My brother had started getting interested in girls and there was one girl in particular that he liked yet she didn’t seem to reciprocate the feelings. I had just gotten my license and he convinced me to take him to a town about 40 minutes from the farm where he met his best friend (the one I described above) and told me his friends parents would bring him home later that night. It was after midnight when the phone rang. I heard my father answer but couldn’t hear the conversation. A few minutes later he was waking me up, asking me to come along with him and show him where I dropped my brother off. My mom was up and getting dressed as well. My parents didn’t talk to me much, but I knew they were angry. We drove to the police station of the other town and there found my brother. His friends parents had already been to pick up their son. My brother and his friend had apparently gone to this girls house and because she wouldn’t talk to my brother, he grabbed one of her scarves and tried to choke himself with it. His neck had a nasty red rash on it and his eyes were bloodshot from the strain. This was his first, but not his last interaction with the police. It wasn’t too long after that first incident that my brother took an entire bottle of Tylenol because of his infatuation of this same girl. He told an online friend from another state who contacted the state police who sent a car and ambulance to the farm late at night scaring the entire family (my grandparents live on the farm too, in another house). My brother was whisked away in the ambulance with my bewildered parents following behind. My sister and I stayed with my grandparents. After the hospital assessed my brother’s liver function and forced as much of the drugs out of his system as they could, he was sent to a psychiatric facility where he hurled invectives at my parents and especially my mom. Things quickly unraveled from there. When he returned to school some of the other kids threw empty Tylenol bottles at him, making fun of him for his latest stunt. My brother lashed out violently at home. After failing the driving exam twice, he finally managed to get his license. He and I were sharing a car my parents bought from my aunt. He had his license for less than a week before he totaled the car. Not the last time he destroyed one of my cars. That was his second incident with the police. Before he had his license, he tried to leave with the car late one night. To stop him my father climbed onto the hood. The driveway from our house (the last house on the road) to the state road is nearly a mile long. It’s a dirt road with curves, hills and lots and lots of pot holes. My father rode nearly the entire driveway before he was able to get my brother to stop and my mom could wrestle the keys from him. The computer caused a lot of issues as well. My brother monopolized the computer despite my need to do use it for my online AP courses. One night I desperately needed to use the computer to complete an assignment. My brother refused to allow me on for more than 5 minutes. When I accidentally scratched him while trying to grab the mouse, he shoved me so hard I flew off the chair and hit the metal baseboard heater, slicing a 6 inch gash on my hip. My father intervened at that point and although my brother was a few inches taller than him, he jacked him up against the wall with a forearm to his throat. It was an ugly night. Not long after that I was working and my sister called me. She was scared because state police had just shown up at the house and there were big problems going down. I found out, when I got home, that my brother had been illegally downloading music to the computer. Somehow, other things were also downloaded and he got caught up in a sting operation. The police did find out that my brother was not the source for the disturbing material and so he was just served with community service, but it was a huge long ordeal that resulted in our home computer (the same one I had my school assignments on) being confiscated and never returned. In addition to all of the incidents mentioned above there were countless fights and fits in which the alien destroyed property of one person or another. Once, my parents were repainting a room in the house and the paint cans were sitting in the kitchen. My brother got mad about something and kicked the paint cans causing an eruption of paint to spray all over the wall and floor. He ruined a pair of my mom’s heels by putting them on and stomping around the yard because he was angry with her. He broke his bedroom door twice and both my sister and my doors once. His fourth go-round with the police was when he was 18 and stopped for underage drinking, which resulted in more community service and a hefty fine plus his license was suspended. As much as my parents fought with my brother, they also fought with one another. At one point my mom spent the night somewhere else, stating she was going to leave my dad. Somehow they worked things out and she came back but my sister and I were devastated by the whole thing. To this day my brother does not participate in any family functions. We have not seen him on Christmas day since he was probably 17-18 years old. Up until about 2 years ago my mom would buy him and his girlfriend presents and leave them under the tree, hoping and praying they would come only to give their gifts to me or my sister weeks later when they still hadn’t shown up.

So why tell the story of my brother? It’s not a happy story, there’s no happy ending. My brother sort of has a relationship with my dad and he comes to the farm to hunt and wander the woods. He did come to Easter dinner last year, probably because it was right after my mom’s cancer diagnosis, but he only made a brief (and odd) appearance this year. When he is at the farm and I’m there, we hardly talk. I talk more to his girlfriend, who is too nice to be with him, if you ask me. When there were difficulties with my grandfather my sister sent me my brother’s cell phone number and it was the first time I ever had his number. It’s sad. But, the point in this whole story is two-fold. One, it has been suggested by different people at different times over the past several months that I should reconsider moving forward with Primero because things were difficult. In all that my parents endured with my brother, never once did they say they wanted to give him up or give up on him. Never did they send him away because his behaviors were tearing the entire family apart. Never did they stop loving him while simultaneously hating his behaviors and poor choices. I committed to adopting Primero, he is my son. And, he hasn’t done nearly half the terrible things my brother has done. Why then should I entertain ideas of sending him away or giving up on him, when no one would have expected that of my parents when they were dealing with my unruly brother? Parenting isn’t easy. Life isn’t easy. Why should we give up just because we are in a season of struggle? The second point to telling this tale is more precautionary. I grew up in the same household as my brother – same parents, same home, same relatives, same treatment. We had a good childhood. In all honesty, it was probably the most ideal childhood you could imagine. My parents loved us and loved one another. We had a nice home and the entire farm to explore. We had loving and involved grandparents who would spend time with us, help transport different kids to different functions and spoil us just enough. My parents had rules and consequences for breaking the rules but they weren’t overly strict. We were encouraged to learn as we played and no topic was off limits during our family dinners. Yet, despite this ideal up-bringing my brother turned into an alien who now eschews any and all family functions. I know my parents prayed that with age my brother would gain wisdom and return like the prodigal son, but he’s 32 and that has not happened. As I watched my parents’ gargantuan struggle with my brother, I vowed I would never have a son like him. I realize now that there’s nothing a parent can do to prevent having a son like my brother. My parents gave him their best, offered him every opportunity possible and still he turned out to be a giant ass. Still, this is a fear I have for Primero or even Love Bug – something will invade their congenial personality and a hostile alien will take over. I need to fight to not make this a self-fulfilling prophesy, something my actions turn into reality. Yes, things are hard right now with Primero. But, the ongoing struggle between us is mirrored by my internal struggle as I battle my personal demons of loss and infertility. There are things I find incredibly painful in adopting an older child and I don’t expect those wounds will heal quickly or without proper attention. But, that doesn’t mean they won’t heal with time.

Recently I’ve struggled with how involved to get with bio families and Primero’s family specifically. I’ve struggled with coming to terms with always and forever being My Name and not Mom. I’ve struggled in dealing with Primero’s indecision about adoption and trying to be ok with PLC, if that was the choice he had made. I’ve struggled with the continual comparison Primero makes between his mom and me. I’ve struggled with confronting my own insecurities regarding motherhood and being the “other” mother. I’ve struggled with learning to let go of a teenager while simultaneously trying to forge a bond with him. I’ve struggled with how to help a teen failing in school. I’ve struggled with little to no sleep for nights on end due to a colicky baby. I’ve struggled with explosive temper tantrums from a child who feels lost and confused. But, I think my greatest struggle is my current situation with Primero and his teen mom girlfriend. I find layers upon layers of issues with the whole kit and caboodle and would very much like to just walk away from it all. This issue weaves my infertility insecurities into my moral expectations and plops it all on top of dealing with teenage rebellion and narcissism in a way that leaves me breathless and hopeless for most hours of the day. I can’t be ok with it, I can’t accept it, and I won’t like it. Until they break up (and I am still hoping and praying that comes sooner rather than later), I have to find a way to live with it. I feel so resentful towards the girlfriend for being selfish and not just letting Primero go to live his life without her complications. I dislike her rude mother very much and hope to not have much interaction with such a dour character. But, I’m a terrible actress. Anyone old enough to talk would see right through my façade if I tried to be all happy-go-lucky about the situation. At best, I think I could convincingly drum up basic tolerance, but even that might be a stretch in some instances. I want to just scoop us all up and transplant us in an entirely different environment far, far away from her. I do not see what is so special about her that Primero would wish to throw his life away just to be with her. I guess she’s nice enough but mostly I think she is incredibly dull. To be fair, I don’t really know her all that well. I remember her from last year when Primero attended the acting camp and she held Love Bug when he was teeny tiny. At the time I thought she was a nice girl, but my opinion of her has changed a lot since then. Now I wish he had never met her that she would just evaporate out of our lives altogether. I hate being in this situation, I hate that this is even a situation I find me and my little family involved in. It’s not by my choice. I hate it. Hate it. Hate. It. And I see no way out…..

I want to end this post on a positive note, so I will tell a little story. It’s a story that has played over numerous times in the last several months, but this is the one most fresh in my mind. Last night I attended a special training to learn how to take care of ethnic hair. It was very enlightening and I’m glad I attended. Love Bug and Chica Marie were being cared for by the volunteers who brought the children to us at the end of the night. A young woman was holding Love Bug and as soon as he saw me walk towards him he began kicking his feet and smiling. He has now started reaching for me whenever he wants me to hold him. The workshop ran late so we were rushing to get to Primero but Chica Marie had to go to the bathroom (what is it with 4 year olds and visiting every bathroom in a 20 mile radius?), so we went inside, which is unusual since we usually wait in the car for Primero to come out. Primero held Love Bug so I could take Chica Marie to the potty and when we came out Primero wasn’t holding Love Bug. A quick glance around the room and I didn’t see the baby, so I called to Primero, “Where is Love Bug?” As I did I noticed the program director walking out of his office with the baby in his arms, talking to him. They walked over to me and this time when Love Bug saw me he broke into the biggest most beautiful grin that just steals my heart every time I see it. He flung his arms out to me and nearly jumped into my arms. He does this thing where he lays his head on my shoulder and kicks his feet while patting my shoulder with his arm. When we were finally home and Primero was holding Love Bug so I could get Chica Marie to bed, Love Bug fussed until I could take him in my arms and soothe him to sleep. This baby knows me as his mommy through and through and it is so precious to see. He loves his sister and Primero as well, but when he’s cranky, when he doesn’t feel good, when he’s scared or sleepy only my arms will do. There is just something so pure and sweet about it, that sometimes it nearly brings me to tears.