Yesterday was a Day

My head is throbbing, I feel the migraine starting to build behind my eyes, threatening to pull me into a cloud of unending pain. Sleep would help. Relieving the stress would help even more, but there is so much going on that’s a pipe dream. Eventually, my body will demand I stop. If things don’t change, the headache will win. I’m hoping that won’t happen until the weekend.

 

What could be causing so much stress, you wonder? Yesterday. Yesterday was a day.

 

The morning started out sort of regular, only I had to get up a few minutes earlier to be sure we were out the door in time to get Chica Marie to school by 8. It was her first full day of kindergarten. Primero had to leave early to walk to work and so I was left alone to deal with Love Bug’s morning melt-down. When he realizes it is time to go he gets very upset and howls until I hold him, which isn’t always feasible. Yesterday, he was particularly whiney, wanting me to hold him pretty much the whole morning, following me around the house yelling “up!” It makes getting ready quite an arduous task because I have to keep stopping and trying to get Love Bug to calm down.

 

We left the house a little before 8 and drove the three blocks to school, parked and found the mobile therapist. I was confused as to where the drop off point was, but we found it relatively easily. Love Bug waited patiently, holding his sister’s hand. I have the most adorable picture of them walking down the sidewalk in front of the school. We waited for roughly 10 minutes before the special ed autism support teacher came to collect Chica Marie. She confirmed the name of the daycare picking her up and I told Love Bug it was time to go. He refused to let go of his sister’s hand, screaming as I lifted him to my shoulder and walked back to the car. I drove Love Bug to daycare and arrived at work a few minutes late.

 

Work was hectic, but not too crazy. I was missing a webinar training due to a medical appointment and had to arrange to attend the second session this morning. The friend I usually take lunch with is leaving, she found a new job, so I was listening to her chat about the crazy things her team was doing. It hasn’t been a good situation for her for quite some time. Not long after lunch, I had to leave for my appointment. Before I could leave, I noticed a text from Primero. His sister, Esperanza, was in distress and thought she might need to go to the hospital. Primero called me and I suggested if it were a pressing emergency, she should call 911. I explained that I could not take her to the ER because I was headed to an appointment. But, first I needed to get gas in the car, making me rush to get to the doctor’s office on time.

 

I arrived just on time to the doctor’s office. I wasn’t looking forward to the procedure, a biopsy sounded intimidating to me, but I had already endured a saline ultrasound and it wasn’t so bad. I barely had enough time to text Primero to see if Esperanza was ok and had found a ride to the ER, when I was called back to the room. The nurse was cordial and business-like. She took my vitals and miss-read my weight declaring I lost a lot of weight since my visit last month. I wish! But, sadly no. Now I was self-conscious and feeling particularly large. She explained I should void my bladder and disrobe from the waist down and wait for Shelly, whoever that was.

 

I did as I was asked and soon Shelly came in to perform the ultrasound with the magic wand. I stared at grainy image of my still empty uterus as she wiggled the wand around to see all the non-working parts. After saving images of my uterus and ovaries, she left to get the doctor. For several long moments I laid on the table with my feet in the stirrups. The ultrasound tech had turned off the over-head lights so the room was lit by a small light over the sink and the screen of the ultrasound machine still displaying black and white pictures of my sad uterus. I had been doing fine, I hadn’t given it much thought, but the sight of the machine brought back the memories of my previous experience with an ultrasound and I felt tears stinging my eyes. I wiped them away furiously, but they would not stop trickling down my cheeks. I took several deep breaths and forced myself to think about my three kids and anything else that would stop the painful memories. After breathing myself into a near catatonic state, I sat up and waited for the doctor, grateful he wasn’t in a hurry.

 

Soon Shelly came back with the doctor and the nurse (her name was Kelly – I’m not making this up). He asked why I was there and I explained my request to my nurse midwife for help with heavy periods. She said I would need this procedure to make sure there were no issues, like fibroids, causing my heavy flow. He began describing the procedure and I explained I had done it before. He asked if I had any children and I responded no. He asked if I wanted children and the floodgates opened. I could not keep the tears in check and my throat burned with the effort to keep my voice normal. When I responded that I had wanted children, he asked about a partner and I squeaked out, “No, I don’t have one.”  I felt pathetic for getting emotional. The doctor handed me a tissue and I assumed the position for the games to begin. The saline catheter was as I remembered it – not painful, more annoying. I felt some pressure, mostly on my bladder, and some cramps so mild if I hadn’t been paying attention I would have missed them. Next came the biopsy. I feared the cramping would be more intense, but it was still only slight and nothing compared to my period cramps. The doctor cleaned me off a bit then told me to sit up. He flipped the lights back on and asked me to come see him in his office.   

 

I waited for the nurse to pass some pads into me, then got redressed. I opened the door to the procedure room and was met with the sympathetic faces of both Shelly and Kelly. Their faces read that they felt sorry for me and I swallowed down more tears as I walked the gauntlet of pity to the doctor’s office. The nurse closed the door behind me as the doctor invited me to have a seat. First, he wanted to know why I made a face when he asked me about a partner. Omg, he thought I was a battered woman! No! And listen, not that I don’t appreciate the concern and I certainly hope if I were a battered woman and needed help that I could find help, but a gynecologist I just met is not the person I would be telling this type of thing to. I responded that I was divorced, thus ending that line of questioning. He then suggested I try Mirena for my heavy periods because it helps a great deal. He said he would call me in a few days with my lab results and gave me literature on the IUD before ushering me on my way.

 

I stood waiting to check out for an excruciatingly long time, breathing shallowly so as not to begin bawling right then and there. Finally, I was able to escape to my car where the hot tears could no longer be staved off. I ugly cried as I drove aimlessly around the neighborhood I didn’t know. Eventually, I found my way home and sobbed piteously while cleaning myself up from that gross ultrasound goop. The memories of past pain, triggered by a familiar procedure and the multitude of questions regarding my lack of ovulation and unsuccessful attempts to get pregnant, overwhelmed me. I cried for those memories.

 

But, I was also frustrated. When I had spoken to my nurse midwife last month, I told her I didn’t want to be on birth control, yet the doctor gave me the choice of birth control or birth control to help with my heavy periods. The literature he gave me did not help, since Mirena was touted for the “busy mom” who can’t be bothered to remember to take the pill. I guess it’s stupid, since it’s not likely I will find myself pregnant for many reasons, one being I’m single. But, I am so totally opposed to any form of contraceptive on the off chance that I do meet someone. I explained to my mom, who I called to discuss what non-birth control options there might be for me, if I meet someone and things work out, I don’t want to have to make a conscious effort to decide to get pregnant or not. If I have an IUD, I would have to make an appointment to have it taken out and that’s an awful lot like saying we are trying. I guess it’s stupid, but making it a happy accident is really the only way I could do it.

 

So, it seems to me like my only options are birth control pills, which I hate I how I feel on them, or an IUD, which may or may not be something my body adjusts to. Many moons ago I had tried to skip my period using the pill. I knew, since my mom works in the field, it could take a few months to achieve total period elimination. For six months I took the pill and not the placebo. For six months I spotted, never once achieving a lapse in my period. My mom worries my body would respond similarly to an IUD, which does help with the heavy flow issue, but certainly isn’t a trade I’d want to make. It feels hopeless. I promised my mom I would talk to my nurse midwife after getting the biopsy results. I don’t have much hope I will find any help, so I’m going to research herbal options and alternative medicine techniques, like acupuncture or chiropractic solutions.

 

After I cleaned myself up, dried my tears, I had to get back to reality. I text Primero that I would pick him up at school and we would then pick up the little ones. We grabbed dinner on our way home and I cleaned up a little in preparation for the CHOR case worker visiting. On our ride home, Primero announced that Hermano’s girlfriend was going to be induced that very afternoon and so his nephew would be here very soon.

 

I washed a sink full of dishes before the case worker was expected to arrive around 5. I sat down, thinking she would be there any minute. As time ticked by and it was after 5:30, I began to wonder if I had made a mistake on the day or time. I checked my email and re-read our exchange, knowing I was right she said Tuesday around 5. As I was about to check my phone for any messages, I saw her walking up to our porch. She had called me and left a message stating she was running late. By this point it was nearly 6 pm. I was so glad the kids had eaten dinner already! We sat down to talk so I could relay all of the information regarding Chica Marie, her therapy, the county case worker’s visit, and the issues with her education. It was a lot to talk about! She didn’t leave until 7 pm.

 

We needed to run out for a few things. Primero needed an exacto knife for his art project and the dogs needed dog food. As we were on our way to the store, Esperanza called and asked for a ride home from the hospital. We were driving right past the hospital, so we picked her and her cousin up and took them along with us. The teenagers walked around on their own as I gathered the things we needed with two squabbling little kids. I had wanted Chica Marie to be in bed early, but that wasn’t happening. We drove the girls home, then dashed back to our place so I could give the kids a bath and get them to bed.

 

The baby was born around 4:30 this morning and it was the first thing I saw when I woke up and checked my phone. Primero is excited about being an uncle and he was also asked to be the godfather. I bought a cute onsie and a Halloween outfit for the baby when we were at Wal-mart. Hermano said they are trying to come to town to visit with everyone, but if they don’t make it, we will most likely go visit them.

 

Days like yesterday zap my energy. I felt emotionally chewed up from all that was happening. I feel pathetic for losing it in the doctor’s office. I feel so many, many things about teenagers having a baby. I feel exasperated at the issues hindering Chica Marie’s educational experience. I feel conflicted about the scenario with Esperanza. I feel exhausted, worn out, used up, totally spent. Is it any wonder a migraine is imminent?     

Beyond Frustrated

The saga of Chica Marie’s education continues. Yesterday we attended the kindergarten orientation, just like all the other kindergarten children in our school. Sadly, it was just a reminder of what Chica Marie was not going to be doing. I was able to take her to her temporary classroom and introduce her to her temporary teacher. I can only hope that helps her adjustment, as fleeting as it may be.

 

This morning her mobile therapist was waiting for us at the school while the students waiting in the van were sorted into their respective classrooms. Love Bug was clinging to Chica Marie, holding her hand and waiting impatiently along with her. He howled when I tore him away from her and she went into the school building for her first full day of school. Chica Marie had been acting up in small ways yesterday, both at daycare and at home. I’m hoping having a familiar face in the classroom will help ease her into things.

 

There have been a flurry of emails between the mobile therapist and the county case worker regarding what is needed for our meeting on Thursday. The county case worker is not really understanding what is needed for this meeting and keeps demanding some form to be signed by either a judge or bio mom. The reality is, this meeting is the form, meaning we need someone to provide consent for a TSS worker to enter the school for the allotted hours that will be determined at the meeting. The back and forth is maddening as each side makes demands of the other. I forwarded the exchange to the CHOR case worker, in hopes that she might be able to help translate what is needed by the mobile therapist to the county case worker. She sent an email to us all. More. emails. Ermagwad!

 

Meanwhile, poor Chica Marie is stuck in a classroom that really isn’t entirely appropriate for her while she waits for the grown-ups to sort this mess out and get her the education she deserves. I need a stronger word than frustrated because that is how I feel.  

Woman's Equality Day

I would say that infertility is still very much a part of my life. I think it always will be in a way; it seems to color my thinking differently now than before infertility was personal. Yet, sometimes it sneak attacks me in unexpected ways. Friday, in the midst of dealing with Chica Marie’s school and trying to determine what sort of help would be needed, the Principal of the school admitted to being in a 4 year battle with infertility. Wham-o! The comment was made after a brief discussion on why having bio mom attend the meeting on Thursday might not be such a good idea given her propensity to derail and delay. It was said out of a frustration I know all too well – these fertile people popping out kids they aren’t able to take care of, while infertiles languish in hellish limbo barely hoping to believe the next try will result in a child to love. This would have been an appropriate time to admit to personally understanding how she feels, to finding camaraderie in the misery of infertility. Instead, I chose to keep my mouth shut, to not out myself as a fellow infertile and to continue on with the meeting just as if I hadn’t found someone in the very trenches that shredded me to the core. I could say I was too focused on everything that was happening during the meeting, but if she had the courage to announce to a room full of people, including her staff, why didn’t I at least admit to knowing personally how she felt? I think it had to do with her precursor sentence, “This might be too much TMI.” Just as so many people do, she set infertility into the private, untouchable realm; made it the taboo topic we all know exists and is prevalent, but don’t talk about on a personal level.  It seemed sort of ironic that on Woman’s Equality Day, mentioning infertility is still TMI. #MicroblogMonday

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

My Little Schoolhouse

I think I want to cry. I know I wanted to cry during the meeting, but I kept it together and no one suspected. My head hurts from the effort. And, school hasn’t even officially started yet. Dear Lord, give me strength!

 

So, last night Chica Marie and I went to the school open house, to meet her kindergarten teacher and get the lay of the land. It didn’t go well. Chica Marie immediately reverted to her baby stage, clinging to me, refusing to talk to anyone, sticking her fingers in her mouth and not being terribly cooperative. We easily found her classroom and waited for another family to finish to talk to her teacher. The teacher was nice and friendly. Chica Marie wouldn’t speak, not a word. She wouldn’t even sit in the chair offered to her. She did start touching things, like a building toy, which the teacher let her take out to play with. She wrote her name for the teacher, but still wouldn’t talk to her. I tried to convey some information to the teacher about Chica Marie’s behaviors, but was interrupted by another family. As we were trying to leave, Chica Marie jumped up on a small raised platform in the front of the room and began touching things. We left before she got really out of hand. The teacher told us where to find a turtle pond, which we visited after popping in to see the cafeteria and gymnasium. We then walked to the library where Chica Marie insisted I read her a book, so I did, thinking it would give her a good experience. On our way back to the front of the building, we stopped in with the nurse to give her some paperwork. While I tried to talk to the nurse, Chica Marie was playing with some cut out letters and handprints laying on a table. I asked her to stop twice before telling her to sit down on one of the chairs by the door. She crossed her arms and refused, stating she didn’t want to be there. So much for a good experience.

 

Now, I have had a previous foster child in this school before, she was already used to going to school, since she was in 5^th grade. Plus, she wasn’t with me for long, so the problems were only beginning to start when she moved on to a different foster home. So, this is my first time sending a child to school for the first time. I know most parents look at this as rite of passage, something that is equal parts exciting and sentimental. Sadly, because of so many things out of my control and Chica Marie’s control, she won’t be starting regular school like her peers.  

 

The mobile therapist set up a meeting with the school guidance counselor and principal to discuss Chica Marie and the concerns about her starting school. She text me earlier this week to notify me of the date and time, stating I didn’t have to attend that she would be able to handle it on her own. Well, it turns out it was a good thing  I went because the meeting did not have the outcome I expected. I guess I figured the meeting would be simple, just me and the mobile therapist explaining the behaviors exhibited in daycare and at home and the school relaying this information to their staff with promises to work on or with her behaviors. That is not how it went. We began discussing things and once it was understood that Chica Marie was involved with Early Intervention and the STEPS program, they found information and an evaluation on her that totally changed the  course of her schooling. The school basically demanded we reinstate TSS, which ended simply because she was leaving daycare and starting school. Insurance red tape dictates that a new approval is needed for TSS in school. The school felt that Chica Marie would not be able to participate in a regular kindergarten class with one teacher and 25 students. She was recommended to a special emotional/behavioral classroom in an entirely different school. This classroom would be smaller in the number of students and have more adult helpers in the classroom. She will temporarily attend the current school until transportation can be worked out for her to attend the different school on the other side of town. It makes it easier for her daycare, since they won’t have to provide transportation as they had agreed.

 

As acronyms and people’s names and titles were swirling around me during the meeting I began feeling overwhelmed. When one of the special ed teachers pointed out reports regarding a particular, albeit infrequent, habit of Chica Marie and how that might make it unsafe for her to be left alone with other children, I felt like calling the whole thing to a halt. She was a little girl, one who was very hurt at a very young age. While she needs to learn to be responsible for her behaviors, a lot of what she does is not really her fault, but a reaction from what had been done to her. I felt like all bets were off once the school caught wind of this one thing and suddenly this little innocent 5 year old is a hardened criminal who cannot be trusted to be around other kindergarten kids. I felt like Chica Marie was being victimized all over again, simply because she had been the victim in the first place. I felt myself getting emotional and had to push those feelings away so I could remain calm in the meeting. It’s one thing for me to say those things about Chica Marie, having lived with her these past two years, it’s something else entirely to hear complete strangers who haven’t even met her, say these things. It was a disheartening meeting to say the least.

 

My hope for Chica Marie is that she surprises us all; that she so loves school and learning that she has infrequent behavioral issues because she is too busy soaking up knowledge. I hope she will be able to move into the regular kindergarten classroom with TSS support and be challenged academically, not left to languish in an emotional support classroom twiddling her thumbs. And I’m hopeful that this bumpy beginning will smooth out and I won’t dread the school year for the next 12 years as she moves from grade to grade. For now, I just need a back massage and some chocolate to rejuvenate myself for our next meeting on Thursday.

Learning to be Siblings

For the first time since Love Bug’s birthday party we had Mini Momma sleep-over. I’m not clear on when exactly she moved in with Grandma, but she has been there for at least a few weeks. We have never been to Grandma’s place, but I had agreed to picking up Mini Momma Friday late afternoon. Friday morning, while at Dorney Park with Primero, Grandma text me asking if I could come a little earlier to pick up Mini Momma to avoid traffic. We agreed I would pick her up around 3:30. Primero didn’t want to spend a lot of time at the amusement park, since he didn’t really like riding roller coasters and it was freaking HOT. He asked to see a movie. I agreed, but we were an hour from home in the opposite direction of Grandma’s place and we hit traffic getting back to town. So, we went to the mall to cool off for a bit while I debated picking up the children early from daycare to make the hour ride to Grandma’s house or chance getting back late to pick them up. I decided it would be nice for them to see Grandma and so we got them early as a surprise because Chica Marie didn’t know about Mini Momma visiting.

 

We drove an hour in the sweltering van, reaching Grandma’s house around 3:45. The house was a small row home in a development of row homes. The outside had overgrown weeds, much like my house (sadly – but, it has been entirely too HOT to pull weeds). We rang the doorbell and one of the cousins answered with Mini Momma behind her. Rather than looking excited and anxious to see us, Mini Momma looked bored and uninterested. We entered the house and were greeted by a fat black cat stretched out on the floor right next to the door and a large aquarium with three large turtles. There was a table and chairs and cat toys and beds scattered all around. We followed the cousin and Mini Momma down a short hallway, past a tiny kitchen and into a living room with a massive TV, a couch and over-sized leather chair. Through the doorway I saw a young man washing dishes. The brother to the cousin was seated in the chair playing a football video game. Mini Momma flopped on the couch and pulled a blanket over her lap. Grandma was nowhere in sight. The young man washing the dishes noticed Chica Marie and asked if she remembered him. She shook her head no and started trying to get Mini Momma’s attention. Love Bug was clinging to me, desperate for me to hold him and not put him down. I walked over to the doorway to the kitchen to introduce myself to the young man and asked him if he has ever met Love Bug, knowing he hadn’t. I sat on the couch uninvited and asked Mini Momma if her Grandma was home. She shook her head no and went back to watching the video game with her finger in her mouth. Eventually, the young man came out of the kitchen and video called Grandma, who was still at work. Grandma talked first to Chica Marie who stuck her finger in her mouth and refused to say anything. Then, the phone was turned towards Love Bug who had finally released his death grip on my neck and was talking to Primero about what he saw on the TV. Grandma spoke to me, asking when I would bring Mini Momma back. Mini Momma quickly answered she wanted to return the next day at three. I was stunned that she wanted to come back so quickly. I told Grandma we were going to the pool and I wasn’t sure what time we would be back. There was static on the line and Grandma couldn’t hear me so she asked me to text her. I asked Mini Momma to gather her things and made sure she had a bathing suit and we left.

 

We had planned to get dinner at the local diner but Primero wanted to go home to get his cell phone charger first. He was going to just go home alone, since the diner is within walking distance, but I figured it was just as easy for me to drive us there. Fortunately, I made that decision because while I was waiting with the kids in the hot car, Love Bug’s speech therapist pulled up. I had forgotten she asked to reschedule from Wednesday because I got back later from my training in Harrisburg. We all went inside the house and I sent the girls to Chica Marie’s bedroom so the speech therapist could work with Love Bug. After her visit, we went to the diner and then drove to the Redbox before returning home to wait to pick up Esperanza and Cousin, once Esperanza was home from work.

 

We put the little ones to bed and the older ones played Just Dance for a bit before putting on the scary movie. I stayed up too late watching the movie, which woke up Love Bug. Eventually, I went to bed and the three teens went downstairs to Primero’s room where they stayed up the rest of the night. The younger three were up bright and early, much to my dismay, and so I had to drag myself from my bed much earlier than I had planned. I made them waffles for breakfast and changed Love Bug out of his pajamas. While I prepared our things for the pool, the kids played together in Chica Marie’s bedroom. They played airplane on the air mattress, with Mini Momma using her legs to push Chica Marie up into the air much as I had done for my siblings when we were younger. Love Bug would crash into them, creating a heap of giggling kiddos and a few mishaps. At one point Chica Marie got angry that Mini Momma was playing with Love Bug and she stormed out of her room. I spoke with her about learning to all play together and had her sit until she was calm and ready to play nice. It seemed to help a bit, but she was still jealous for her sister’s attention just as Love Bug was trying to get Chica Marie’s attention. It’s a hard thing, learning to be siblings again and again. When Mini Momma is around Chica Marie wants to revert to being the baby for Mini Momma to take care of her. And Love Bug is confused because he is used to playing with just Chica Marie and getting all of her attention. Mostly, their play time was nice and they got along and filled the house with their laughter. But, there was an undercurrent of unfamiliarity and some tension that seeped into their merriment.

 

I had told Primero we were going to the pool on Saturday and when it was clear they would not be getting up before we left at noon, I text him to let him know where we would be and that I wasn’t sure when we would be home. Primero tried to reach me around 3:30 because Esperanza had to work at 4, but I didn’t see the missed calls until we were back in the van sometime around 4:30. We had a nice time at the pool, everyone was well-behaved. I spent a good chunk of time with Mini Momma, who clung to me and wanted me to swim with her. Chica Marie would not leave the shallow end of the pool and acted totally detached from me and Mini Momma. On several occasions we tried to invite her into the deeper water with us, but she said, “Go! Go and leave me here!” She seemed content to hang onto the wall and chat with the other kids. Love Bug fell asleep in the pool and took a nice long nap. It was sort of strange being there with the mobile therapist but it worked out ok. I felt bad that she ended up sitting with Love Bug while he napped, until I could extract myself from the girls to sit and talk with her. I think she is a little more attached to us than is clinically expected, but who am I to complain about it? We got to use her guest passes for a free afternoon at a very nice pool, for which I am very grateful. It certainly wasn’t something she had to do, but it did give her a chance to see how Chica Marie acts outside the home as well as witness the dynamic between her and her older sister.

 

While at the pool Mini Momma began begging for a happy meal from McDonald’s. One time last year while she was visiting we went to McDonald’s after the pool and so she had it in her mind we should always do that. I knew the older kids had gone to McDonald’s for breakfast around 2, so they would not want that for dinner. I decided to get two happy meals and let them share it and I would get something to eat later with the older kids. The kids ate their happy meals while I took a shower. Primero also showered and then went back downstairs. I sat down around 5:30, thinking Primero would soon be back upstairs. Unfortunately, I fell asleep and Primero got a call from his mom, so we didn’t leave around 6, as I had planned. I woke up around 6:30 and told Primero we needed to go. He eventually came upstairs with his cousin who was crying due to some of the things Primero’s mom had said. He began relaying the whole conversation to me as I ushered all the kids out of the house because we were going to be late getting back to pick up Esperanza from work. I text Grandma to let her know we were on our way back.

 

When we arrived at Grandma’s house the same young man (who I discovered was Grandma’s step-son) was sitting outside with two friends. He opened the house up when he saw us and I sensed right away that Grandma wasn’t home. He tried calling her but she didn’t answer. Mini Momma was immediately back on her corner of the couch sucking her finger and disinterested in our departure. I didn’t beleaguer our parting and withdrew after a hasty good-bye. I was miffed that the grandmother wasn’t there again. It didn’t really bother me much the previous afternoon, even though I picked up the kids specifically to see her, but it really bugged me when we took her back home. Maybe it was because the grandmother had asked during the video chat, “When are you bringing her back, so I can be home?” She did call me about half-way through our trek back home and was very happy that everyone had a good time and said we all need to get together soon. She also mentioned older siblings and wanting Chica Marie specifically to meet up with them. And that’s when I had to get honest with myself. Mini Momma might be able to fit into the current living situation with no serious regression, but I don’t think Chica Marie would fare as well.

 

Chica Marie needs structure, it is the only way she can cope. Our routine has become predictable to her and so she is able to transition and not become totally unhinged. I know, from two short visits I cannot say what it’s like all the time, but it seemed like it was no big deal for the step-brother and cousins that they were left home alone with Mini Momma. The step-son is about Primero’s age, maybe a year older, and the cousins are both older than Mini Momma, but I would have major concerns leaving Chica Marie there for a sleep-over. She has been asking for a sleep-over at her grandmother’s house for a very long time. But, I would be very uncomfortable leaving her there if the situation was the same as when I dropped off Mini Momma. Chica Marie would be hanging from the drapes in a matter of moments. I might be more comfortable with a sleep-over if Grandma was there the whole time, but it doesn’t seem like that happens. I might be ok with it if her partner were there, but I didn’t see her either. Just the kids. Sure, I leave Chica Marie and Love Bug with Primero from time to time, but it’s in our home where everyone knows the rules and expectations. I wouldn’t leave Mini Momma with him and the younger two for more than a hot minute simply because that would be too much for Primero to handle.

 

The other worry I have is about Chica Marie seeing older siblings, specifically older brothers. I don’t know what truly happened, but CYS determined it was not a good idea for the younger sisters to be with their older brothers. Given how unstable Chica Marie has been with her behaviors, I worry about a serious regression that could have serious consequences if it were to happen at school. I wouldn’t want Chica Marie to be thrown into something that could trigger her without preparing her first. And, I think it’s something that I would only consent to after speaking with CYS and her therapy team to help me help her prepare for it. I mean, she hasn’t seen any of her older brothers since she moved in with me two years ago, so it would be something even without the extra layers of concern. I certainly wouldn’t want Grandma to trundle Chica Marie off to see her brothers and set off a domino chain of events that cause her harm. Yet, the question is, how do I convey all of this to Grandma without jeopardizing our relationship?

 

CYS and CHOR have touted my relationship with Grandma as some amazing feat, but in reality we hardly know one another. When Love Bug was tiny and Chica Marie had first moved in with me we would visit with Grandma once a month at a diner roughly half-way between our homes. The last time we had such a meeting was in January of 2015 when Love Bug was just 6 months old. Grandma attended Love Bug’s first birthday party roughly 6 months after that and that was the last time we saw her. We have spoken a few times and texted a few times, but nothing that feels very concrete to me. I want to keep her involved in the little ones lives and be able to have visits and a connection, but I worry sometimes about striking wounds that haven’t even been unearthed in Chica Marie. I don’t suppose I’m the only foster-adoptive mama who worries about this, but trying to navigate it is certainly tricky!

Email Exchange

Email to me:

 

Hi Foster Mom A,

When you take Chica Marie  for med checks, can you please make sure you are having Dr. complete the physician referral form??

Thanks!

CHOR case worker

 

The response I want to give:

 

Hi CHOR case worker,

 

Given that it took 6 weeks for Chica Marie to be permitted to take her new medication prescribed by Dr. AND I can’t get respite no matter how desperate I am, sure I’ll get right on it to make sure I’m making your job easier and to satisfy the bureaucratic need for paperwork without any real assistance. Shall I bend over backwards? How much higher shall I jump?

 

Go stuff it!

Frustrated Foster Mom A

 

Follow up Email to me:

 

I forgot… sorry. To include this in my last email to you.

When you schedule Chica Marie’s dentist appointment, please let me know.  It is due in September.

Thanks!

 

The response I want to give:

 

Today must be your paperwork day, huh?

Last Summer Weekend

Because I am off-my-rocker-insane we had a dual sibling sleep-over this past weekend. Mini Momma came for a night (I will go into more detail about this another time) and Primero had Esperanza sleep-over along with their cousin. For those keeping score, that doubled the number of young people in our house. Here is the Reader’s Digest version of our weekend.

 

Friday: Primero and I dropped the kiddos off at daycare, picked up his last paycheck from his summer job, went to the bank and then onto Dorney Park. I wanted a last hurrah for Primero before school started and CHOR gets discount tickets (and it’s an amazing $20 discount!). Primero is not a thrill-seeker and wouldn’t ride a single roller coaster, barring the Wild Mouse. We did ride other things and I rode my favorite roller coaster, Steal Force, without Primero. The day was exceptionally hot and humid and before long Primero was asking to see a movie instead of riding more rides. Mini Momma’s grandmother had text me asking to pick her up earlier in the day to avoid traffic. I agreed to pick her up around 3:30. We hit traffic getting back home and went to the mall to cool down before getting the kids early from daycare and then driving the hour down to Mini Momma’s place. It was a really HOT day to be stuck in the HOT car (we have no A.C.) and by the time we got back home my head was about to explode. Oh, and I forgot that Love Bug’s speech therapist was coming over, so it was a good thing we stopped at home before going to dinner or we would have missed her. Around 9 pm we picked up Esperanza and Cousin along with some of their laundry. I stayed up too late watching a scary movie with them and was grumpy when the younger three woke me up too early the next morning.

 

Saturday: I spent the morning grumbling while preparing for our afternoon at the pool. No sight or sound from the older three, so we left without them. I think they woke up around 2 pm. We went to the pool with Chica Marie’s therapist and that is about the oddest thing, except it isn’t the strangest thing I’ve ever done as a foster parent. I was really excited to go to this pool because it is a really nice one, not like the one we go to. It is in a fancier part of the county, although still close to where we live, so the crowd is a little less-rowdy. Actually, the pool seemed empty with very few patrons. There are three separate pools; a baby pool which is freezing cold for unknown reasons, a “regular” pool from 3-5 ½ feet and a slide, and a diving pool with two low diving boards (I was bummed I didn’t get to go there, but that’s the sacrifice of a mother). Love Bug wanted nothing to do with the pool, being more interested in the basketball court and climbing the fence. Eventually, I wrestled him into his swimming trunks and carried him into the pool. Chica Marie would not go any deeper than the shallow end and kept telling me and Mini Momma to go and leave her behind. I did swim with Mini Momma in the 4 foot end for a little bit. There is a strange dynamic between the two girls when we are all together. Mini Momma wants to be mothered and not mother Chica Marie, who in turn pushes us both away. When they were playing at home before the pool, it was evident they struggle being siblings together because they never get enough time together to figure it all out. When we got back home after the pool we were filled in on some drama from Primero’s bio mom. It seems he can’t ever get out of the dysfunction. We were supposed to pick Esperanza up from work at 8, after taking Mini Momma home, but I fell asleep after taking a shower and we were late. We didn’t eat dinner until after 9 that night. Oops! The drama from Primero’s mom, in addition to some bad news from school exploded into a verbal brawl between him and me while trying to take Esperanza and Cousin home. The night ended in me falling asleep to Primero texting me to argue more.

 

Sunday: I woke up with a massive and debilitating headache. I had wanted to get the house cleaned up, but didn’t feel well enough to really do much more than a few things. I took some Aleve, tried to relax and eventually did get some laundry done. The only thing on our agenda was to go grocery shopping. Primero woke up around 12:30, right after I put the younger two down for their naps. Primero asked about going to his uncles house and I was hesitant due to the issue the night before and his propensity to use his uncle as leverage to get his way. I discovered on Facebook that we were all invited to his uncle’s for their youngest son’s birthday celebration. I was dismayed that Primero asked if he could go and not if we were all going. I told him we needed to go grocery shopping first and then we would go over. We ended up staying later than I wanted to because it is hard to extract Primero from family gatherings; he always seems to feel like it is his last. We got home and tucked the kids into bed. Before too long it was time for Primero to go to bed so he would be ready for his first day of school.

 

It’s hard to believe summer is over and school is starting, but I am more than ready for some cooler weather and the predictability of a set schedule. #MicroblogMonday

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