Bad Things Come in Threes

Today is the kind of bad day that just makes me ache and hurt all over. I should have seen the omen last night, although I don’t know what good it would have done me. They say bad things come in three’s; my day said, “hold my beer” and set out to prove that wrong, drastically wrong.

 

Last night I was making a new-to-us casserole. I found it on another blog and wanted to give it a try, mostly because it means dinner will be ready when I get home (Primero is tasked with baking it) and we can get out earlier for trick-or-treating. The casserole required crackers to be crumbled and spread on top. While doing this I accidentally dumped some crumbs on the floor, so before proceeding with the recipe, I swept them up. The last flourish for the casserole was to sprinkle poppy seeds on top of the casserole. I grabbed the poppy seed container from the cabinet and, I don’t know how it happened, but ended up knocking the lid off while also knocking the entire container on the floor. For whatever reason, seeing the floor darkened with tiny poppy seeds gave me the giggles and so I grabbed the brooms and swept them up. Alas, I would soon be cured of the giggles.

 

Yesterday was a very boring day for me. It was our job fair at work and I was tasked with manning our table and very few people stopped by to chat about our services. So, I sat and did nothing for the majority of the afternoon. The one thing that bolstered my humdrum feelings was knowing that night was my favorite episode of Dancing with the Stars. It was the Halloween team dances and they are always so much fun! I know, it’s a dumb thing to be excited about, but honestly my day was simply that boring. Plus, as an added bonus, Primero said he was going to watch it with me and he’s been so teenager-ie lately he hasn’t watched a thing with me at night after the kids are in bed, so I was glad he might join me. But, as the butterfly flaps it’s wings setting forth a hurricane, it seemed the poppy seeds spilling emitted bad juju. Our best guess is that when the DVR message popped up asking if we wanted to record the show, Love Bug ingeniously turned it off, thus not recording the show (the Voice was also not recorded but I just can’t get into that show, it requires too much of a time commitment). I was devastated. Primero tried to work his technological magic, but no dice. We watched The Fosters instead and my only consolation was that Primero watched it with me. That and I can watch Dancing with the Stars on Netflix or Hulu or something tonight.

 

This morning I had to get blood drawn for the Nutritionist, which meant not eating breakfast (I had to be fasting) and rushing out the door trying to get one child to school, get my blood drawn and drop the second child off at daycare and I was really hoping to make it to work on time. The morning was going pretty well, it seemed like this was all possible. I had my arms and hands full carrying my purse, work bag, Love Bug’s Halloween costume, my water, the car keys and Love Bug to the car. I asked Chica Marie to carry the mini pumpkin cupcakes with cinnamon cream cheese icing I had made for Love Bug’s daycare party and put them in the car. As I was floundering out of the house, trying to convince Love Bug to walk to the car and put on his jacket, I heard the cupcakes fall. I lost my mind, raced to them, yelled at Chica Marie and slammed open her car door. I tried to salvage the cupcakes that I could, raced back inside to the leftovers I was going to keep for us (thank God I made a double batch!) and back to the car where I couldn’t get the van door to shut. I struggled with it for a good 5 minutes before the neighbor came out to help me close it and I’m pretty sure it is irrevocably damaged, off the track or something like that. I was sobbing as I dropped Chica Marie off at school late and raced to the lab for my blood test, arriving 20 minutes late. I had to text my boss because I wasn’t making it to work on time.

 

I arrived about 20 minutes late to work. I put in a request for the time and about an hour later my boss called me. In the snarkiest voice possible she explained, as if I were a simpleton, I didn’t need to use my annual time if I was only going to be 15 minutes late. Add this to a hectic day trying to learn new tasks because a co-worker is retiring the end of this week – and I hate these new tasks we’ve been assigned – plus, my period started this morning, so I’m crampy and grumpy. And the coup de gras? An email for a surprise baby shower at work for a co-worker who I thought was my friend but never told me she was pregnant. In fact, this is the friend who tried to get me to adopt her niece’s baby. I nearly burst into tears reading and re-reading the email to make sure I understood what it was saying. Worst. Day. Ever.

Hare Today, Prune Tomorrow

Sometimes parenting is all about being clever. One night last week Love Bug was enjoying his bubble bath but I was ready to get him out. Sure, I could have scooped him up and lifted him out without his consent, but do you know how much a wet, squirming, angry toddler weighs? Hoping to avoid a soaking wet wrestling match, I tried making up a goofy song to get him out of the tub. He giggled, but continued playing with his rubber duckies. I tried the usual mom requests to get him out of the tub, still trying to keep the peace by not demanding or getting angry with him. Feeling thwarted, I sighed, “Love Bug, if you don’t get out of the tub you’re going to turn into a prune.” His eyes got big and he repeated, “A poone?” Seizing on the moment I replied, in mock seriousness and concern, “Yes, a prune. Are your fingers all wrinkly?” He looked at his fingers, worry furrowing his brow, “Yes, Mommy! Look! Poones!” he cried, deeply disturbed at the state of his little fingers. “Oh no, it’s already happening! You better get out quick!” And with that, he willingly lifted his arms for me to scoop him out of the tub, abating the aforementioned water wrestling match. When I posted this exchange on Facebook a concerned friend worried the incident might make Love Bug weary of bathing, but the prune technique worked a second time with no lasting fears of bath water. I’m sticking this in the W column – a win for mom!

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Different Adoption Journeys

Last night when I was giving Chica Marie a bath, after finally having an evening where we weren’t horns locked in a dual to the death, I sensed it was an ok time to broach a difficult subject with Chica Marie. Ever since she found out, from her sister, that her grandmother had petitioned to adopt her, Chica Marie has been very out-of-sorts. On the one hand, she doesn’t want to leave the comfort and stability she has come to rely on yet, on the other hand she very much loves her grandmother and sister and would love to live with them. It’s not a position I would want to be in as an adult, so imagine how much harder it must be for a child. But, the real driving force behind so many of the outbursts and negative behaviors has been fear. She is fearful of being shoved out, pushed along, unwanted. So, she has been lashing out at me, not me but me the mother figure. She was calm last night as I rinsed the soap from her hair. I waited until I was done and she could look at me and I told her, “Can I tell you a secret?” she’s big into hearing secrets, so I knew this would get her attention. “Chica Marie, I never said I didn’t want to adopt you. I never wanted you to go anywhere, I never wanted you to leave. I love you and I very much want you to stay a part of our family.” She mentioned the conundrum, of wanting to be adopted by both me and Grandma. “The good thing is, there are so many people who love you and none of us are going anywhere,” was my response. Chica Marie seemed more settled after her bath and cooperated while I did her hair. This is such a hard time and the behaviors have been grinding me down as the weeks drag by. I feel like I do so many things wrong, but last night I felt like I made some small progress and that felt good.

 

Bolstered by my conversation with Chica Marie, I thought I would try chatting with Love Bug. It’s not that adoption isn’t discussed so he’s unaware of it, but I’ve never had a direct conversation with him about it. I know a three year old won’t understand, but I wanted to give it a try. “Love Bug, do you know you have another mommy? A first mommy who grew you in her tummy?” I tried broaching the subject while tucking Love Bug in bed. He took my hand and held it to his cheek, “You my mommy, Mommy. Because you am.” Bless his little heart! Love Bug and Chica Marie have such different adoption experiences I get whiplash trying to meet each one where they are at in the whole scenario. I feel like I fumble around a lot, but my heart is in the right place and I hope that will mean something as they get older.

Between a Rock and a Very Hard Place

Our adoption case worker was over at the house on Saturday. She doesn’t usually come over on a weekend, but she is leaving this week on a medical sabbatical until the beginning of December. She had to come out and that was the only time that worked with both of our schedules. She explained to me that she had called and spoken with the county case worker to get a clearer picture where things are at for both the kids adoptions. The adoption case worker’s proposed plan, which she said the county case worker liked but would have to clear with her supervisor, was to finish up with the finalization for Love Bug asap (so maybe December) but keep it hush-hush. Then, when it comes time for Chica Marie’s adoption, to make it a big celebration of the adoption of both of the kids. This is my list of the pro’s and con’s on this whole scenario.

 

Pro’s:

• Obviously, getting Love Bug adopted the sooner the better is not something I disagree with, so this sits in the pro column. There’s really no reason to hold him up, the county has done that long enough and it makes me less fearful knowing it’s a done deal.
• Not worrying about Love Bug’s adoption means less paperwork and less distraction from Chica Marie.
• Perhaps, at some future date in a different plane of existence, the children can be celebrated individually becoming part of the family (ok, so this is a sarcastic pro).
• Maybe Chica Marie would like having her own adoption date, one that is different than Love Bug’s.
• Love Bug is oblivious to what is going on, so the difference is lost on him.

 

Con’s:

 

• Never did I consider adopting one sibling without the other and this concept breaks my heart into a million pieces.
• They are asking me to lie to my child, something I am loathe to do. Lying to Chica Marie is not going to help our relationship.
• In one of a multitude of what-if scenarios, I worry about being at the doctor’s office with both kids (say, they are both sick at the same time, a totally plausible possibility) and there are questions about Love Bug’s name change due to his adoption. His insurance will have to change, so it’s totally possible there might be questions and Chica Marie is wicked smart and incredibly observant. She will ask questions and then I am forced to lie again or reveal the painful truth.
• Let’s say the above scenario never happens, we live happily ever after until both kids are grown or near grown. Now Chica Marie finds documents of Love Bug’s adoption, that happened before hers and without her knowledge. Doesn’t that sound perfectly awful?
• The whole miss-matched adoption could cause strife between the two kids, if it were to come out as mentioned above.
• There is the possibility of losing the adoption subsidy if the children are adopted separately because they qualify as a sibling group and I’m not sure if they would qualify alone. It’s a reality that we need those subsidies to help us financially and the loss would definitely be felt negatively.

Balancing Act

I’m troubled. I feel like our family is out-of-whack right now, as a consequence of all the craziness of the past two months. I feel short-tempered and frustrated too much of the time. And, the kiddos have been reacting to the stress as well. I want us to be coming into the holiday season emotionally prepared because the holiday’s tend to be hard on us. I want to feel less fractured and more cohesive as a family. I wish I could whisk us away for a family weekend, something to take us out of our norm and push a reset button on things. Alas, this isn’t financially feasible. So, I have to try a different, less dramatic tactic. I think, since a grandiose family bonding weekend is not in the cards, I will have to divide and conquer.

 

I’ll start with Love Bug because he’s the easiest. I know what he needs to set his world right and that is to spend time with mommy chilling on the sofa, playing silly games and giving and getting lots of kisses and cuddles. Just this simple time with him tends to lessen his tantrums and angry toddler-ness. Sadly, when I’m stressed and trying to use chores (the things I can do, the things I do have control over) to over-compensate, my chill time is one of the first things I let go. But, Love Bug needs that time with me and so to hell with clean dishes, my priority this week will be quality Love Bug time before he has to go to bed.

 

Primero is also easier, meaning it doesn’t take much for us to iron out the wrinkles in our relationship, but as my go-to guy to watch the kids, getting time away just the two of us is challenging. The kids have a visit with their grandmother coming up, so this would be an ideal time for me and Primero to spend time together. The difficulty will be getting him away from his friend, who is with us every weekend. I’ll have to set this up, prepare him ahead of time and maybe, if that doesn’t work, intervene with the friend. The visit is the weekend before Primero’s 18^th (YIKES!!!) birthday, so maybe that can be my excuse to have him to myself? It’s worth a try! Usually, I allow Primero to decide what we do and he often chooses going to the movies. That might not sound like quality time, but we have the car ride there and back, so there’s time for us to chat, which generally works some magic.

 

Chica Marie is the toughie. I have to find a project for us to together, but it has to be something simple that she doesn’t find frustrating. She has decided, after going to the CHOR fall festival as a witch, she wants to be an angel for Halloween. Sure, I could go buy the fluffy feather wings at the costume store, but wouldn’t it be more fun to make them? So, this will be our getting-on-the-same- page project. I’ll do some prep work, to grease the wheels, and she will be so proud to show off her creation when we go trick-or-treating.

 

For myself, honestly, if I can get the house in order, it helps me to feel more in order. So, I’ll keep working on that. It helps me to write out the things I want and need to get done, and I’ve already started on that task. Being able to check tasks off my list is settling for me and knowing the house isn’t a blazing disaster also helps me find some inner peace. So, this is my goal for this week, sprinkled around the other things I’ve mentioned with the children. Getting a good night’s sleep and maybe another soak in the tub should also help me re-balance and restore myself emotionally.

Merry Maids

I’m a rotten mother. The stress that has been pressing down on me from all the craziness with the county has started oozing out of my pores. My patience level is non-existent and the children are feeling the brunt of my malaise. On Sunday, I sat down a moment when the kids were napping and fell asleep. The morning had been frustrating, it seemed the more I cleaned the more messes I had to clean up. I would barely get done with one task when a new one would appear, or sometimes I couldn’t complete one task until taking care of an issue first. I couldn’t make breakfast until I washed some dishes because no one washed the dishes the day before (I was washing dishes when the adoption case worker came over and never got back to finish them). After breakfast, while I was washing more dishes (we really could use a dishwasher!), Chica Marie fell in a puddle of dog pee and I had to stop to clean it up. And so went the day. So, when Love Bug startled me from my nap by screaming in my face that he wanted juice, my reaction was not pleasant. I shoved him off of me and screamed at him. Not my finest moment by far. And, sadly, it took me more than a few minutes to make up to him with a cuddle and cup of juice. I felt so guilty about it the rest of the day.

 

Given all that has happened with the county, I feel an added pressure to be super-mom. It’s like I have to work to prove myself every single day or Chica Marie will be whisked away to her grandmothers. I have to make sure the house is perfectly spotless, which if you live with a toddler, you know is impossible, let alone the furry roommates who add to the mess. I have to be sure I stay on top of all of the school stuff and report appropriate things to the therapy and teaching staff. I have to balance my work schedule with the various appointments for all three kids plus myself. I have to make sure we do enough fun family things that can be written about in reports (and because we like doing them and would do them otherwise, it just seems important to have things to report). I have to make healthy meals the people will eat, or at least the majority of the people (Primero pretty much lives off of Cup of Soup and canned spaghetti not matter what I make). I work a full-time job outside of the home, so I don’t have many hours during the week, even less when you add in all the therapy and other appointments we have – like trainings. I’m supposed to find time for myself. I need to spend time alone with each child. And, I have all the chores – the laundry, dishes, sweeping, vacuuming, dusting, washing, wiping, mopping, scrubbing, rearranging, picking up, putting away.

 

I’m tired. I knew motherhood wasn’t easy, but so much of my time is spent cleaning up after the little darlings that I hardly get time to spend with them, unless snarling at them to not walk on my freshly washed floor counts. It’s maddening! I want to be the mom who lets the kids finger paint and help me bake cookies and never wince at the mess they are making because it’s just one. more. thing. I have to clean. I grew up on a farm. We were very messy kids. Playing in mud was literally our summer past time. So, how did I become this neurotic maniac who cringes at every crumb the kids drop? Maybe it’s because I feel like the maid, constantly cleaning up from one mess to another. Maybe I could use some help? I’ve taught Chica Marie to sweep the floor and wipe up messes, but sometimes her cleaning help only equates more of a mess for me. I wish I could just let it all go, and maybe I will after the adoption, but most of the time I’m hoping the multitude of professionals traipsing through our house can’t feel whatever is crunching on the floor through their shoes.

 

I’ve contemplated saving up and have a Merry Maids service come clean the house once a month to give me a break, but I know me. If I do that, it means I will pre-clean before they get there because I won’t want them to know the levels of slovenly depravity in which we live. So, that kind of defeats the purpose. Still, it might be worth it to get the things done I am forever trying to get around to. I suppose things might be easier if I had a partner, but I didn’t really find it to be true when I was married. I would need to be married to a second me in order to truly unclench and relax a bit because my real issue is that my standards are too high. My home will never be featured in Better Homes and Gardens, but shhh don't tell my inner perfectionist!

 

What works best is for us to be busy on the weekends, to be out of the house and therefore my inner perfectionist doesn’t have to grumpily stomp around the messy house with a sourpuss face. It’s not possible for us to be out and about all the time, but when we can, we really should be out. This cuts the hours of time I have to dedicate to cleaning and lessens the frustrations I feel about the house not meeting my standards. It would also help to not feel like my house is being judged every time a professional comes over, but this too shall pass.

 

 

Separate Yet Equal

Chica Marie’s adoption is currently on hold. I’m not sure what exactly will cause the county to feel ready to proceed, but I know her adoption is currently postponed. When we had the big meeting, the GAL was opposed to finalizing Love Bug’s adoption without his sister. The GAL said this would crush Chica Marie and I tend to agree. But, on the other hand, they (the county/GAL) cannot allow the tumultuous circumstances with Chica Marie to hold up the adoption of Love Bug because that isn’t fair to him. We are very much stuck between a rock and a hard place because there is no easy answer. The CHOR adoption case worker has proposed finalizing Love Bug’s adoption on the DL (down low) and then celebrating both of their adoptions when Chica Marie is adopted. This only works if no one breathes a word to Chica Marie about Love Bug’s adoption. Which means not telling Mini Momma, it would seem. I see so many more pitfalls to this plan than I see positives. The one great positive the adoption case worker mentioned was no longer having to worry about grandma taking Love Bug – she couldn’t do that if he was adopted. While I can voice an opinion and of course I could down-right not agree to adopt Love Bug without his sister, I do so at my own peril. The vision I had of all three siblings being adopted on the same day in one big, happy ceremony has evaporated into ether. At best, I can hope for a subdued adoption for Love Bug and a mock celebratory one for Chica Marie. The only lasting solace I have is knowing, at that point, it would all be over.

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