A Few of My Favorite Things

Pretty much everything is bringing me down right now. And Chica Marie just got suspended from school for punching a child. She’s in kindergarten! But, I don’t want to talk about all the things that are bugging me (like my really big house purge that is taking so much longer than I wanted and resulting in things piling up in every room except the one I’m cleaning out, which just so happens to be my room because I don’t ever put me or my stuff first – wow, what a run-on!), rather I would like to remember the things that make me glad.

 

Love Bug is the quintessential toddler at times; ridiculously adorable most of the time, contradictory most of the time, and occasionally a temper tantruming Tasmanian Devil. Mostly, he is impishly cute and I cannot get enough of his grins and what I call his “big boy” facial expressions. Also, I wish there was a way I could play him telling me “it ‘nowing, Mommy!” because it is quite possible the most adorable thing you’ll ever hear. Speaking of highly adorable, let me share this story from church this past Sunday. Somehow we managed to get there just a few minutes early. Chica Marie had already asked if she could sit with Miss Pat, my co-worker friend, and I said she could as long as she behaved. After we hung up our coats by the front door she delightedly skipped up to the front row where my friend usually sits. Love Bug, seeking to find the seat with the best view of the drum set and drummer, chose the very seat my friend sits in, by the inside aisle. As Chica Marie was hugging Miss Pat, Love Bug plopped himself down in her seat and asked me to start the music. The seats alongside my friend were already claimed, so I sat behind her and the children. Love Bug sat like an angel, purely enthralled in the praise band playing and singing. Chica Marie danced a bit then sat down with Love Bug draping her arm around him. If only I could have taken a picture! It was such a precious sight! After a few songs, Chic Marie leaned back to show me her hand where there was a miniscule cut on her knuckle. To soothe her inner hypochondriac, I gave her a squirt of hand lotion. It was a bigger squirt than I intended, so I took some with my finger to use on my own hands. I had barely slipped the hand lotion back into my purse when Love Bug was showing me a nonexistent scrape on his hand. I gave him his own squirt of hand lotion. Not to be outdone in sharing, he gave some of his lotion to me and then tried to give some to the lady behind his chair. She had her eyes closed in worship and so I gently caught his hands before he touched hers, but the gesture was so sweet, with his little grin as his chubby hands offered her some of his lotion.

 

Last night Love Bug wanted my full attention. I had just finished washing a mountain of dishes after making dinner (chicken noodle soup) and prepping dinner for Wednesday (potato soup). I had my phone and was catching up on emails and Facebook but Love Bug had other ideas. He told me once to “turn off phone” as he plopped on my lap. I didn’t listen so he said, in his sing-song voice, Mommyyyy, turn OFF phone.” I smiled at him but continued scrolling, so he deftly grabbed my phone, turned it off and laid it on the couch behind me, then grinned at me until I tickled him and he squealed with delight. It’s sort of sad that my toddler needed to remind me to turn off my phone and spend time with him, but I’m glad eventually listened and spent several gleeful minutes with my precious little boy.

 

For the first time ever Primero is going to make honor roll. He is getting all A’s and B’s right now, which is such a big deal for him. He is also keeping up with his homework and class assignments (well, he missed one for history but had a strong enough grade to still eek out a B) which is also a very big deal. It’s like a switch was flipped and now, all of a sudden, he’s taking school seriously and putting forth the effort I’ve always known he was capable of doing. I couldn’t be more proud of him!

 

Chica Marie is enjoying her karate class more this session than the previous one. For the first time this past weekend I had to leave during her class. I usually stay but this week I had to run Primero and his friend to get haircuts, leaving Chica Marie in the class alone for a few minutes. I worried she might start acting out. When I got back (with Love Bug, who I usually leave home with Primero) I found her jacket where we left it but couldn’t find her boots. I asked a mom sitting near us and she said my daughter had left. I started to panic until I saw her walking back in the gymnasium. She had gone to the bathroom and had put on her boots as I have told her to do since the bathroom is not nearby. She sauntered into the room so nonchalantly I almost had to laugh at myself. She rejoined class and was able to pick back up with no issues.  I was so glad she didn’t meltdown because I wasn’t there!

 

Other things that make me happy, in no particular order – when one of the cats cuddles all warm and fluffy in my lap, crockpot meals, the new wreath I made for our front door with peacock burlap, when there are no dirty dishes in the sink, 3 day weekends, my son knowing I will do what I can to help his friend in need, freshly made guacamole, when Prancer does her business in the grass and not the back porch. These are a few of my favorite things.

Life's Not Fair

It's like I’m on fire and rather than dousing the flames the county and CHOR just explain why they can’t use the fire extinguisher to help me. I am beyond angry yet there is no point in wasting my energies in righting this wrong. No one with the power to do anything cares and no one who cares can do anything. CHOR tells me there is another family dealing with the same thing, but they can’t do anything about it. That actually makes me more angry – que sera, sera? Um, not when it’s your life in limbo! Trust me, if this were you, you wouldn’t have the same nonchalant feelings about it. The county case worker assured me it will happen in March because they gave a court order with no more continuances. I mean, unless the county decides to continue it because the moving around has only been because of the mom and her attorney the last two times. The court date, as I understand it, has been moved 5 times now. FIVE TIMES! Oh well. Nobody cares. Three little children are living in limbo, their lives on pause, having to have every damn decision drug out until every effort is made to contact their unreachable mom no matter how emergent the situation? It is what it is. It’s happened to other families and it will continue to happen because the lives of these children don’t really matter they are just faceless numbers to disassociated, compassionless bureaucrats.

The TPR hearing was scheduled for today. It didn’t happen. It was continued again. This is the fifth time the court hearing has been moved since June 2016. Some of the reasons have been the GAL not being available, mom’s attorney being in the hospital, and today’s reason du jour – mom’s attorney has a big case this week and couldn’t make it to court today. You know, because this little case is so less important. I emailed my CHOR case worker and asked who I can complain to with the power to do something because how can this keep happening? Why aren’t these children important enough to get this taken care of, to make it a priority? Chica Marie has had 3 birthday’s with me, in foster care. She has spent half her life in the system. Love Bug has spent his ENTIRE life in foster care. Luckily, he has been in the same home the whole time, so he doesn’t know he’s in foster care. Chica Marie was only in two homes, which is a good thing for her because she so needs the stability and continuity and if she had been in a lot of other homes she would probably be a total behavioral mess (more so than she already is). These children matter. The powers that be need to get off their high horses and see these children. Nothing will change until they give a damn.

Regrets

I wish I could say I live my life without regrets. I certainly aspire to do so, but there are a few things I wish I wish I could do-over. One of those things is how I handled myself when Love Bug first came home. Don’t get me wrong, I was totally smitten with this baby and I could not have loved him more. But, I was scared, no terrified. I was scared he wouldn’t stay, like the other baby placements I had previously. And I let that fear keep me from doing the things I might have done had I not been so frightened of losing him. Because I knew I wouldn’t be having bump pictures or grainy ultrasound pictures to foist upon friends and foes alike, I desperately wanted to do a newborn photo shoot with all those cutesy little Ann Geddes-esk poses and props. I even talked to my photographer friend about doing it and she was game. But, I was too fearful of doing the photo shoot and having to hand the baby back to his mom that I never got around to do the pictures. And now I regret it. Sure, I have my amateur photos of baby Love Bug and some are precious, but it’s not the same. I wish I had the hindsight I have now, in knowing that even if baby Love Bug didn’t stay and become my son, I would still cherish the pictures and it would have been equally as nice for his mom to receive them as well.

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Beginning Again, Again

I just found out last night that in addition to Chica Marie losing her TSS worker (who she loves) her kindergarten teacher will also be changing. Holy changes Batman! This won’t be easy on her. I’m hoping the new TSS worker can begin quickly (it’s not sounding like that’s going to happen) so Chica Marie can be semi-adjusted before the current kindergarten teacher shifts into her new position as school librarian. This is stressing me out a bit, so I can’t imagine how poor Chica Marie is feeling. Good thing home life is stable for Chica Marie because school is going to be a hot mess for the time being!  

Facebook Pregnant

My younger cousin, who just got married in August, is going to be a father. His wife posted a picture of their new puppy sleeping and captioned it “I wander what sort of human my parents are getting me?” and then titled the post, “I guess we should make it official” and she tagged her mom and my aunt. In response to one of the comments she stated she was only about 6 weeks along but hoped to have a more accurate reading at an ultrasound scheduled for next week. I found this on my wall just after scrolling quickly past a former co-worker’s daughters gender reveal (she is also a newlywed) – they’re having a boy, in case you wanted to know. I’m not sure why this pregnancy announcement is getting under my skin. I mean, I felt more apathetic finding out my ex had a son on January 8^th; ok maybe not apathetic but more resigned. Reading the Facebook post I got the familiar kick to the gut feeling and was immediately sorry I had been scrolling along so haphazardly. I’m sure my cousin and his wife will be good parents, not that that has any bearing on fertility, I guess it was the seemingly easy and nonchalant way they conceived. It’s like, yawn, yeah I’m preggo. I’m just glad the holidays are over but I’m not looking forward to the baby shower. Sigh.

Losing Our TSS Worker

My institution was correct (see yesterday’s post), Chica Marie’s TSS worker is leaving. She is taking a better job that offers her health insurance. I totally get it, but it does suck for us. She has been so helpful in making this school year a success for Chica Marie and I really felt like she was finally starting to get somewhere with this child. Not only that, but she got me. She understood why I was upset about lying, even little unimportant white lies. And, she didn’t think me getting upset over Chica Marie pulling out her hair style as some unimportant issue to not get worked up about. If I thought it was an issue, then it was an issue. She kept apologizing to me last night and I told her she needed to do what is best for her. Does it suck for us? Yes, yes it does. Will we be able to move on? Of course we will. I just hope we find another good TSS worker, someone who stays firm with Chica Marie, yet loves on her when she’s made progress and someone who supports me in trying to mother a child with difficult behaviors. The TSS worker plans on coming over tonight to tell Chica Marie. Her last day is Friday.

Rainy, Dreary, Blah

As I was trying to get comfortable in bed last night I heard Primero’s conversation with his friend. I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping. He was talking, very loudly I might add, in the living room despite being told it was time to go to bed, and I couldn’t help but hear him. At one point he was talking about a friend’s mom he knew from his childhood. He was close with her and even called her mom. My drowsy mind told me to ignore this conversation, mostly because it wasn’t about me, but also because I knew it would hurt me. But, I wouldn’t listen to my mind, drowsy or not. You know how science has proven that the last thing you think about before you fall asleep becomes a very strong memory? Ok, so maybe I made that up, but often times the first thing I think of when I wake up is the last thing that was on my mind before I fell asleep. And so today’s memory has not been a great one. My mind keeps spinning and spinning the same question around and around in my head, “Why could Primero call that other woman “Mom” but was resistant to the point of defiant when I suggested he call me Mom?” I would love to lie to you tell you this doesn’t bother me at all but, last memory notwithstanding, it bugs the hell out of me. I try not to dwell on it but it’s sort of like trying to ignore an itch – it never really goes away. Add to this the fact that Primero always refers to me as his adoptive mom, never just mom, even to people who know the story. I probably won’t mention anything to Primero because it will probably only result in him getting angry, but it hurts. It slices me right through the heart.

 

Today really hasn’t been a stellar day all around. When I got into work this morning I discovered that a large stack of pretty, colorful notecards a new customer had given me had been stolen from my desk. This isn’t the first time someone has taken something from me and the item wasn’t expensive but I still feel violated. Why can’t the things on my desk be left alone? At lunch I walked next door for a $5 lunch pizza combo. They are supposed to be “hot and ready.” I waited patiently for 10 minutes of my 30 minute break until I became frustrated. The young lady who took my order had disappeared so I drummed my fingers on the counter until someone else came out to assist me. I was the only one there, so it wasn’t like they were swamped. When I got back to the lunchroom with my hot pizza, the room was freezing, barely a few degrees above the outside temperature. I ate quickly and returned to my desk where I discovered a cryptic text message from Chica Marie’s TSS worker. She asked me to call her tonight, stating she would rather talk than text. I am assuming, since nothing was wrong and she never had any issues texting me about issues in the past, this means she is leaving. I text the mobile therapist, testing out my assumption and she asked me to call her after I call the TSS worker so we could, “work this out together.” At least the day matches my mood. It is rainy and windy and blah.