Wednesday, June 30, 2010
“Thirty Days Later”
If I loved you
I cried when you left
If you loved me
You would have turned back
If I loved you
I’d watch each day for something
If you loved me
You’d wonder why I hadn’t begged you
If I loved you
I’d fight the urge to beg you
If you loved me
It would kill you not to hear it
If I loved you
I’d lie awake each night
If you loved me
You’d be sleepless too
If you loved me
You’d face me
And not wonder why the tears
dropped from my chin.
One of us has love.
invited it in
and checked on it each night to
make sure it was sleeping peacefully
before turning in for the night.
The other one
Walked out the door
Without saying good-bye.
Or I love you.
(I cheated on this assignment. I wrote this last year, exactly 30 days after my daughter Dawn ran away the second time. And with Mama Kat's assignment, there are LOTS of things I'd like to forget, but the heartache that went with not knowing where she was AND knowing she didn't want to be with us was nearly unbearable. So I dusted this one off to share. Cheers!)
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
I told her I understood--and even though I haven't walked in their shoes, I really do understand. Because no matter what Hubby and I do, they don't trust us, and probably never will. They've never been able to trust anyone. Both us, frustrated beyond reason about trust, but on different sides of the issue. And all of us trying to find a way to some common ground.
Much has been made on other blogs and by other bloggers about what it takes to be a good parent, and what it takes to parent special needs kids. And how one should cope with the specialness and craziness that is our lives. I have a friend who’s own mother stalks her blog to document what she thinks her daughter is doing wrong as a parent. There’s another blogger who writes about the kid she never gave up on, and after many years, is seeing the pay off. I have another blog friend who had to shut down her blog because crazy people went after her AND her daughter. What the hell kind of sense does that make?
Parenting special needs kids takes special people. Tonight, I had my own little very special moment. Maybe something will change in me or my kids or our actions. Maybe it won’t. And realistically, probably it won't.
Do I really think I suck at being a parent? Sometimes. Have I tried EVERYTHING I know to do to help my kids be better than they are? I think so, but if and when something else pops up, I’ll look into that too. Do I still do the best I can with the ones I have? Every day.
Because that’s what being a parent it… it’s riding the crazy train,** and knowing that at some point, it will be better, even if that point is their 17th birthday when they walk out to do things their own way…Like Dawn did. And loving her anyway.
Rant done. I feel better.
**listen to it. it's not about what you think it is. trust me. it's my theme song. one of them anyway.
About fifteen minutes later, there was a timid knock at the door. “Who is it?” “Me.” (danae).
I told her to come in. She did.
She crawled in bed behind me and sort of spooned up on me and started playing with my hair. She started talking about all the things that had been frustrating her. I just stayed there. Then Leigh came in, still crying, and apologized. I laughed. "For what?" I asked. "For being an asshole," she responded.
I couldn’t help it. She apologizes like this at least twice a week, and then it’s back to the same-old same-old. She laughed too. I'm usually intrigued by what she's apologizing for, which is why I always ask.
Leigh laid down in front of me, and held my hand. I told them that no family was perfect, but that it really scared me sometimes how imperfect we were. Leigh asked why. Here’s what I said:
“When Dad and I are dead, I don’t want you guys in fist fights at the funeral. I’d like to be able to die someday knowing you guys will be okay, on your own and as sisters. And not feel like I’d wasted my time.” Leigh was laughing and crying at the same time. Danae was silent, but I think she laughed. I, of course, was still crying because that’s what I do when frustrated. (Actually I cry a lot--anger, frustration, joy, irritation, other people are crying, etc... it's a ridiculous behavior, but I think it's bio-chemical because I have no control over it.)
We chit-chatted, they tried to convince me to get dressed again (when we came home, I put my comfies on) so Hubby and I could catch the end of the concert. By this time it was 8:30, there’d be no seats left, no way to get dinner or a drink, so I told them it was too late for tonight. They protested, saying Hubby and I needed a night out. I agreed but said, “clearly, we were needed here tonight.”
So now, I have a post-crying jag/hissy fit migraine, a tomato red nose, blood shot looks-like-I’ve- been-stoned-for-a-month eyes and lots of snot. I don’t understand the whole snot thing. But that’s gross, and totally not my point.
My point is this… even after all this, I still love my kids. Angry at them? Yep. Disappointed in them? Yep. Will I still try to have a night out in the future? Yep. Because you never give up hope that someday they’ll get it right.
Tonight, Hubby and I were supposed to go to a concert together. I won the tickets, Dawn was supposed to babysit, and Leigh and Danae were supposed to help with the babies, so Hubby and I could have a date.
Clearly, if I’m blogging, it didn’t happen. Fuck. I wish I had a time machine.
It started at about 3 PM with Dawn trying to bail so she could go to the movies with Marie. I complained, she realized that you don’t bail on parents when they’re asking for your help to go to a free concert of a top 40 band without their kids.
Then, as we’re leaving, Leigh asks us to unlock the TV. Unlocking the TV means giving them complete access to cable TV and all its variegated glory. No.
We’re pulling out of the driveway, and Danae comes sprinting out of the house, complaining that Leigh called her a fucking bitch and won’t give her the remote so they can turn the TV off. I told her that Leigh had every right to watch TV and to leave her alone.
We’re driving down the street, as I call the house phone. Leigh answers. “What?” Loudly and rudely.
“Since I pay for that phone, you will follow my phone rules. I’m hanging up now, and when I call back, follow them.”
I counted to 20. Dialed. Better answer.
As I’m talking to Leigh about what lead to her sister being a fucking bitch, I hear Danae yelling, “You’re the fucking bitch! Give me the goddamn remote!”
Leigh’s response, “No! Quit being so bossy!” I hear muffled scrapes and grunts, and then Leigh wailing, Dawn trying to separate them. I tell Hubby to turn around. We go home to find Leigh in her room sobbing, Danae cranking up the stereo and Dawn straightening the furniture.
Danae and Leigh had gotten into a fucking FISTFIGHT over the remote. I told Danae to go to her room. She then had the complete lack of sense to argue with me and tell me that it was no wonder Leigh had such fucking problems.
Really? Because for the last nine years, I didn’t know why Leigh was so fucking crazy, because it’s been just SO MUCH fun living with her. Leigh has nothing to take away, so her being in her room is her punishment. I go to Danae’s room and tell her to give me her phone. She told me no, that it’s hers. Okay fine. You paid for half. I’m not going to wrestle. I’ll just turn the damn thing off. If I don’t get to have fun tonight, no one does. I said that out loud as I was walking away. “That’s part of Leigh’s problem, you’re so fucking selfish!”
I go to the living room, call the phone company, shut her phone off, and start cleaning. It was either clean or hurt someone, and I try at all costs to avoid violence. (Keep reading. There’s more of that.)
While I’m on the phone with the phone company, Danae comes out and asks if she can talk to me outside. I said, “I need some time to calm down. Give me a little longer.” She stomps off, “Well at least I can say I tried.”
In my “not my proudest mommy moment”, I called after her, “I didn’t tell you to fuck off! I told you to give me a little bit of time!” As I was saying this, the operator came back on, and we had a very awkward parting conversation.
Two minutes later, Danae storms into the living room. “DID YOU REALLY SHUT OFF MY PHONE?” yes. OHMYGOD THAT’S THE ONLY THING I CARE ABOUT SO YOU TAKE IT AWAY NO MATTER NO ONE WANTS TO LIVE HERE.She stomps to her room. I follow. i’m sorry you feel that way. Is there somewhere else you’d like to be? ANYWHERE BUT HERE! fine. I’ll help you pack.
She spins around and finds me in the doorway, and tries to move me using the door. I told her that it would be a very good idea for her to take two steps backward because going toe to toe with me was not a smart choice. She leaned in and started yelling in my face that we were stupid, that we never punish leigh, that we can’t control her, and generally going over all of our parenting failures. I turned around and walked away.
Why did I walk away?
It was either that, or I was going to hit her. Not just push her backward. I wanted to punch. Fingers curled in, nails digging into my palms, thumbs crossed over my fingers, pointer and middle fingers held as a flat surface… I wanted to punch. I know how to. I've taken karate, but I wasn't passionate about it enough to stick with it.
I joke about wanting to punch people a lot. But I have never actually done it. In my head, though, I could see my fist connecting with her face, and knew I had to turn away.
She slammed and locked her door. I went to clean some more. As I cleaned, I came to this conclusion: As parents, we cannot control our children. All we can do is distract them if they’re young, and guide them as they grow.
And in Danae’s case, she LOVES control. She wants to be the boss. Always. And if she’s not, she gets mean about it.
I went to her room, tried the handle, knocked. When she opened it, I told her that there was no reason to lock her door. I asked her if she was ready to talk, and she rolled over on her bed. Okay, fine, I said. But here’s something you need to think about: ….. then I told her what my conclusion was.
She lit into me. She’s tired of Leigh always getting to do what she wants. She’s tired of never getting to do what she wants. She hates that her stress caused her to fail her classes and lose the one thing she’s always loved: school. She’s tired of me and Hubby not doing anything with Leigh and her behavior.
And I lost it. Nine years of frustrated parenting came spilling out. Among other things I told her are the following (and we were standing outside Leigh’s door, and since I was yelling at the top of my lungs I’m sure the people on the next block heard everything):
I tried this in all caps to emphasize that it was all at the top of my lungs, but it was too hard to read. So I put in reminders....
1. We have tried everything we know to do. Therapy, counseling, meds, absolute control, spankings, more therapy, threats of jail. Everything.
2. And when those didn’t work, we called caseworkers and experts and we were told to hospitalize her. We can’t because she’s not homicidal or suicidal.
3. And when we asked caseworkers for help, we were told to give her back, that we’d done all we could, that they’d put her in a group home and we could get on with our lives.
4. And when we asked the probation officers and the court to lock her up, we were told THAT her crimes (a broken razor blade used for cutting at school and one pot-smoking incident) weren’t enough to lock her up.
5. (and I’m still yelling) And when we adopted Dawn, and then again you(Danae), people told us we were stupid, fucking crazy, out of our minds and out right dumb. And those same people, when they have seen the issues you guys have, they have told us to take your asses back to social services and give you back.
6. (still yelling) but we didn’t. Because real families don’t ever give up on their kids. No matter how crazy, no matter how fucked up, no matter how mean, controlling, bitchy, scary, or just plain bad.
7. And you know why i walked away from you earlier? It’s because I wanted to hit you, but I walked away because I’m not that kind of person. I’ve never hit Leigh or Dawn in anger, and I’ve only actually “hit” dawn in self-defense. Do you have any idea what kind of self control it has taken for nine years not to beat the living shit out of you guys? You drive me batshit crazy and I swallow it and hold it back because I know it won’t do any good.
8. And I’m 38 years old and all I’ve ever really wanted to be was a mom and I fucking suck at it, which is one of the reasons we don’t think we want to keep the babies because if you look at our track record we fucking suck at being parents and we don’t want to set these babies up for failure because they deserve better than this. (Still yelling, now gesticulating like the crazed ranting Italian mama I am.)
9. So Danae, if you think you’re frustrated at being in this family, imagine how it feels to be us, knowing there’s not a fucking thing we can do to make it better. (Done yelling.)
At that point I turned around, and went in my room, and put my head into my pillow and cried. I didn’t lock my door, but I did slam the hell out of it.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Playing with Dolls: So I’m in Barnes and Noble Thursday night and end up having the following text conversation with my hubby:
HIM: How much can I bid on a Steve Austin doll?
ME: Are you serious?
HIM: Yes. A man has needs. Steve Austin doll is one of those needs. How much?
ME: No more than $50.
HIM: Does that include shipping?
(((ME, in my head, OMG, he’s serious.)))
(((Ten minutes pass)))
HIM: I won. It only took me 34 years to get one.
It ended up costing $33 with shipping. Now I’m not picking on my hubby’s Ebaying while sick. And I will never. Because the last time I had surgery I played on the internet under the influence of serious painkillers and anesthesia, and he almost had to change his phone number and my email account still hasn’t forgiven me.
But a doll?
We have SIX daughters.
And never have we purchased a doll.
That just feels wrong, but I love him anyway.
Plus, I’m wondering if the Steve Austin Doll has the cool removable skin flaps that show the bionic stuff underneath like my Jamie Sommers Doll did.
Oh, and when I told Danae, who was stalking me at the bookstore, what Hubby had done, she asked, “Who’s Steve Austin?”
Worst Problem Solving Skills: I think I've written about this before, but here goes anyway. When Danae has a bad day, or disagrees with me about something I’ve said or done, she rants and bitches. By text. She quits talking out loud and starts texting. She had some doozies this week, and then got upset because I just stopped responding to them. “Fine then, I just won’t ever respond when you text me. See you you like that.” When I reminded her of the basic “If I pay for it you damn well better answer it rule” she pouted, but quit complaining.
And speaking of texting…
HUBBY: I just birthed a brown submarine.
ME: I’ll be sure to blog that.
And so I have.
One thing I am grateful for is that I don’t have carpet. As much crap as I sweep up three times a day, I can’t imagine how bad that would suck if I had to vacuum that often.
And why does it seem like my room is the only room in the house that never gets fully clean? And when the rest of the house is clean, our bedroom is a pithole? Ugh. I suck at organization.
Another Reason People Think I’m Crazy: Being a bad weather junkie, I love hearing that we’re under severe weather alerts. That, and we need a new roof and have old trees in the yard. Bit I digress. What really irks my nerves is that every time I get excited about the clouds brewing in the distance, and I hear the rumble, and smell the rain, it always blows just north or just south, or peters out before we get it. Happened again recently. We even moved vehicles under the car port to avoid the quarter-sized hail we were supposed to get. Had my camera and umbrella ready….. and no storm. Sigh. Such a letdown. Not even good lightning. Not even rain. Crap.
More Bad Timing: So Hubby is sick. Like had an xray, now has to have a CAT scan, double the antibiotics and steroids sick. At first it was bronchitis. Now they don’t know what it is because his lymph nodes made an appearance at his Xray. Thanks to the specialness that is our family, he has no sick days left, and no personal days. On a happier note, his vacation was approved from July 9th through July 20th. A week of that is paid, so we were sweating it a bit, but not a ton. Now that he is on a physician-ordered leave of absence, we’re looking at two weeks of unpaid time in July, instead of just one. Ugh. That’ll make back to school shopping in August so much fun.
MoMo on the Move: The toddler has discovered two new talents this week. Nudity and mockery. Sometimes at the same time. I was sitting on the sofa, typing and started laughing because the dog started licking my ear. MoMo climbed up next to me, titled her head like mine was, and wiggled until the dog licked her ear too. We’ve also discovered that if we don’t keep pants on over her diaper, she takes the diaper off.
NaNa in the News: She is also sick. Coughing. Mid-level fever. Very, very cranky. She had shots Thursday, and had the same reaction then. Poor kid. Shots suck. Oh and she is actively rolling over now.
Miracle of Minor Proportions: Dawn has finally scraped enough money together to pay her $250 fine from two years ago and attempt to get a driver’s license. She asked me today if I would take her Monday to handle it. I agreed. I’m such a loser mom, and chauffeur. But then realized later that the DMV is closed on Mondays. And she has to have an appointment to handle her license. HAHAHAHAHA!
Most Interesting Cultural Experience of the Week: Danae, being mixed, identifies herself more as black or Hispanic than white. So most of her friends and her current girlfriend are black. Current girlfriend, along with two aunts, a great aunt, a sister, and seven cousins all came over to our house Saturday night for a cookout. All of them black. In our very (mostly) white neighborhood. I came out with a bag of ice to find them all doing the “bus stop” in front of the bonfire. I’m pretty sure no one has ever done the bus stop in our neighborhood. But after some drinks, burnt hotdogs and conversation, a good time was had by all, and theories and ideas were traded and dissected.
Things I’ve learned this week:
- When the poo is the same color as the baby, there will always be more, and will always end up on your hand.
- When you are running up against a deadline, things will always take longer than you want.
- Toddlers will, no matter what, pee in the water. At least twice.
- Anti-viral meds are AMAZING against cold sores. I will never suffer again. And the meds were cheaper than the Abreva!!
- Making car salesmen wait can have advantageous results.
More summer heat and beach fun, along with doctor's appointments and hopefully a WORKING minivan will be a part of the next week.
Be nice, and stay cool!
(Gotta run... TrueBlood is on!)
Friday, June 25, 2010
I wish I could get paid to write,
it never would get old;
But life and kids and bills to pay
just seem to stop me cold.
In the comment section, add your stanza.
The more the merrier! If I keep doing it, maybe I can get a nifty button to share....
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Anyhoo. I have one coming in on the bottom left lip. I put Abreva on it this morning, and went on my merry way.
That was, however, before MoMo didn't get a nap today. A 20 month old should never have a nap withheld. For any reason. Especially one so lame as "social services couldn't get their heads out of their asses long enough to schedule bio-mom's supervised visits around naptime."
When I got to day care to pick up the babies, MoMo saw me, burst into tears, and ran across the room into my arms. She cried herself to sleep in the car.
When we got home, I tried to rock her, and she didn't want any of that, letting me know by rearing back her head and clocking me square in the mouth. My teeth still hurt.
And now, both my lips, top and bottom, all over, have that tingly "you're gonna get a fever blister" feeling. Sores on both lips in late June in summer heat. NO. FREAKIN. FAIR. And nothing really prevents them or makes them go away. They are just flat miserable.
And all because some caseworker did not take my "DO NOT MESS WITH NAPTIME" admonition seriously.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
As my hoardes of readers know, Leigh is a bit of a pistol, and we've been put in court-ordered family therapy.
Today was our second session, and she left in tears.
We'd played a therapy game where we had to make a bunch of popsicle sticks stay in a stack on top of a cup, without talking or communicating. Leigh purposely made it hard by placing her sticks awkwardly when it was her turn to put a stick on the stack.
In the processing, it was noted by Hubby, me, and Danae that Leigh often does things to intentionally make things harder or worse.
Then, we all had to write on a piece of paper how we saw Leigh. Then we had to share what we wrote.
After everyone read, the therapist was out the door in less than two minutes, tears in her eyes. The statements we read were the standard "we love you no matter what wish you wouldn't make it so hard" kinds of things....
I don't know if I'm proud of the fact that we made her cry, or ashamed, or worried... or a fun combination of all three.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Funniest Moment at our Children’s Expense: I get random emails from http://www.freebizmag.com/, a website that helps market magazines to specific target audiences, based on the professions of the readers. Occasionally, they’ll throw a free subscription at you for something totally not related to your job… Like me as an English teacher with an offer for a year of Auto World or Opera Today. Or Maxim. On a whim, I agreed to the most recent Maxim sales pitch, thinking Hubby might like it. When it arrived, he was a little perplexed and said, “Do you really want me reading this?” I said, well, if you don’t like it, Danae might.” He stopped, looked puzzled, had an AHA! Moment, and laughed. “Sometimes I forget that whole ‘she’s gay’ thing.” I related the conversation to Danae later, and she laughed, saying, “I’m glad me coming out has freed up so many jokes for you and Dad.”
Boot Camp Mom Update: Leigh is still not happy with her new life this summer. She has to read everyday, do her chores and keep her room clean or she gets no freedom. We tried to make a bargain with her last week, putting off a chore on the promise she’d do it as soon as we got home. It’s still undone as we speak, and she’s still pouting about having to do it with a sunburn.
- DP lived in a car with his dad for three years after his mom took off with her crack dealer.
- CJ lost her dad and grandma when she was 12, and her mom two weeks before prom. Her brother, now her guardian, is deployed in Afghanistan.
- KL has never met her dad, and her mom died her tenth grade year in an industrial explosion.
- CB and AB, two of a set of triplets walked with their dad, mom and two other brothers, from Central America when they were about 7. Walked. Say what you will about illegal immigration, but how do you turn your back on that. Plus, AB is legally deaf.
- AW, profoundly deaf since birth, is on her way to art school.
The coming week: WIC, foster care paper work AGAIN (they lost several months' worth of invoices during all the caseworker shuffles), eye doc and dentist. Finalizing summer travel plans.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
- Leigh is on probation.
- Leigh's probation is through juvenile mental health court.
- Mental health court has ruled that self-harm is not allowed.
- Leigh hasn't cut since being on probation, but she has done other things that "hurt," but that don't constitute cutting.
- Could this be one of them?
- Cut off all her hair and some of her eyebrows (and "accidentally" some skin) with an eyebrow shaper razer stolen from my room
- Pierced her lip, nose and both ears--with pins and earrings she had in her bedroom
- When those piercings got infected after we made her take them out, she had lots to pick at.
- Purposely worn too small shoes to the point of blisters.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
HALELUJAH Moment: Dawn is NOT prego!! Thank GodAllahBuddha. That's a huge problem we don't need or want. Ugh. I don't want her to be permanently infertile, but a ten year moratorium on egg release in her uterus would go a long way toward making me happy.
Nail-biter Moment: Leigh might go to juvie jail, or "detention" as they call it here, for her role in the "I'm-going-to-buy-and-smoke-weed-with-some-total-strangers-in-a-car-with-a-baby" caper.
Mom Dilemma: We let Danae spend the weekend with a friend, and she came home bruised--neck, arm, leg. I asked her about them, and apparently, she got into at least two physical fights with her girlfriend. "We both have anger problems and we don't know when to stop or how to control it."
She made comments about having provoked it, and not stopping the fight when her girlfriend tried to stop it. That it was her fault. And that she'd rather her girlfriend get violent with her than to start cutting again.
I was beyond shocked. I used to volunteer for a crisis line, and I flat told her she sounded like a battered woman, which technically given her and her girlfriend's pasts, they are. If they are BOTH equally domestically violent to each other, how do you convince them that they are BOTH wrong?
And what does it say about me that if she were dating a guy I'd freaking kill him for bruising my kid, but that because she's dating a girl, I'm less angry about it? Am I wrong in this? In size they're about evenly matched, which I know doesn't matter in domestic violence, but at least one of them isn't completely dominating the other.
This is something new for me--straight couple, parenting an adopted lesbian daughter-- navigating the differences is a little odd.
MoMo Brag: She now can use bless you, please, thank you and your're welcome correctly. She's learning to tell us when she needs a new diaper. We go to court for panel review tomorrow for both babies. I have such mixed feelings. Ugh.
NaNa Brag: She is just a little bundle of smiles and happy screechy sounds that sort of sound like what a billy goat would do if at least partially cracked out.
Political/Confession: I really love the TV show Whale Wars. If I ever become a gazillionaire, I'm so buying them cool toys. I may have to buy some promo merchandise just cuz I think it's cool.
TGIF of the Week: Our school district FINALLY had its last day with students. We actually had a quiet closing, which considering the last few months was a blessing. I pondered teaching summer school, but after the past two years of my life, I need a break. So I'm taking one.
The Big Store That Sells Everything. Doesn't: I know that last summer, there was a lotion that slowed down hair growth. I combed the HBA section and couldn't find it. Grrrrrrr. I am such a hairy person that I have to shave everyday. You probably didn't want to know that, but that lotion (it was Aveeno last year) helped. A lot. And since it has been nearly 100 degrees for the last few days, I am definitely NOT wearing long pants.
Moment of Personal Realization: I am getting addicted to blogging. I find myself checking my email and logging into my blog several times a day to see if anyone has commented my blogs. I have become a comment whore. And does it make sense that a post I was really proud of that didn't get commented by anyone kind of hurt my feelings? How lame-o is that? I'm such a wuss!!
Book I'm Reading Right Now: Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart: Thirty True Things You Need to Know Now by Gordon Livingston. The four I've read so far are dead on right... It's not preachy, but not dumbed down. "There are only three things you need for happiness: something to do, someone to love and something to look forward to."
Anyhoo.... it's getting late, and I have the joys of post-planning to look forward to. Yay!
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
- Go Ask Alice, Anonymous
- Chinese Handcuffs, Chris Crutcher
- Notes for Another Life, Suellen Bridgers
- Wesley the Owl, by Stacey O'Brien
Any ideas for more or better ones? Activities that won't break the bank? Margarita fixin's? (No, the AA is not secretly for me. I just love margaritas in the summer time... cool, refreshing and relaxing.....)
And I think I'm going need all three. (And maybe some guidance or ideas or feedback on this plan 'o mine...)
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
So here it is, for those of you overdue for your voyeurism fix... the Wrap-up!!
Ridiculous Waste of Taxpayer Money in Education We had another fire drill last week. We had one the last week of May, and again the first week of June. Federal law says we have to have one every month. We have one week of school left, and our kids are just crazy enough that we can’t do it the last week of school.
Worst Mommy Moment: My daughter Leigh has an abscess in her armpit. She is in desperate denial about how it got there…a complete lack of hygiene and using a dirty razor while dry shaving. And she is desperately seeking attention for it. And even after her probation officer made her do pushups for lying to the judge about her grades and it swelled up and burst again, I just can’t get that excited about fussing about the fact that she tried to tell the PO that she wasn’t supposed to be doing pushups. I have however, hidden the pain meds she got, because I caught her trying to take them just because she wanted to.
Best Mommy Moment: Um… Sad to say, I’m not sure I have one. Our weekend trip last weekend was nice, but very stressful, and not at all as relaxing as I needed it to be. So I made everyone stay home today and basically said that we weren’t doing anything because I needed some downtime. So I guess having a selfish mommy moment has worked out because we’ve had a quiet, drama-free weekend.
I’m Glad I Married My Husband because… he did all our laundry at the Laundromat, and I mean ALL of it the morning the bug guy came and gassed the house to kill the fleas. And $120 later, we are mostly flea free!! Thank GodAllahBuddha!!!
Budget Groans: We still need a van. We have two in our driveway, but can’t drive either of them. And since we don’t have the titles on them, we can’t sell them or trade them in. Ugh.
Dawn Moment: She still thinks she’s kind of pregnant, but doesn’t have the money for a test. And she officially has no health insurance now. Yay her!
NaNa Moment: She likes peaches, ranch dressing and ReddiWhip. No so much salsa and bananas. And she likes baths, which makes me happy.
Leigh Moment: It’s been all about the armpit this week. Lanced twice. Sliced and stuffed with “packing” once. Two antibiotics. She pulled the packing out herself today, even though she’s supposed to wait til Monday. Shocking, I know, right? Yeah. Not so much.
Danae Moment: Her girlfriend spent the weekend with us. They feel asleep on the sofa watching a movie, holding hands. Hubby took a picture, and Danae and her GF thought we were going to be mad. I thought it was typical teenager. Hubby thought it was cute that they were holding hands. I think she’s still surprised that we aren’t damning her to hell for being gay.
MoMo Moment: We bought her an inflatable pool and she tried to take the kittens swimming. They were not pleased. She’s also learned that if she steals NaNa’s pacifier it makes her cry. She has also started to tell us no when we say anything to her. She also likes it when you fill her her mouth with ReddiWhip.
Political Grouch Moment: I’m trying not to be a conspiracy theorist here, but after how many weeks we have oil STILL spilling into the Gulf? Really?
Moral Ambiguity Moment: The caseworker newly in charge of adoption assistance called to find out Dawn’s status. We told them that she’d moved out again about two months ago. Hubby got a tongue-lashing for not reporting the change. We were told by the previous caseworker that we’d get a form in the mail every four months to fill out and return, and if there were changes, to report them then. So we were expecting the form any day, and were planning to report the change. I’m trying hard to figure out if I should feel guilty about the two months of assistance that we got while Dawn wasn’t officially living with us.
Looking forward to... our students' last day of school is Friday June 11. Teachers' last day is the 18th, but the 17th is a furlough day. That's loads of fun. I'm looking forward to sauteed shrimp and wild rice tonight, and strawberry shortcake again. Fun with babies and ReddiWhip!!!
But I am secretly glad that BioMaMa and BioGranny look like they do (missing lots of teeth, bad skin, bad hair... as my mom used to say "rode hard and put away wet"), because it is a visual reminder of the life that my daughters can choose to avoid if they so desire.
Add your own confessions below, because getting it off your chest is really good for you!!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
She stopped by today. DumbAssBoyfriend goes to cout tomorrow to see if he goes to prison (pleasepleasepleaseOHpleaselethimgo!!) and has been really stressed out and taking it out on her. They're fighting.
Oh, by the way, "the pregnancy test said I'm kind of pregnant."
I looked at her and asked how in the world someone is kind of pregnant.
"Well, the little 'you're pregnant' mark lit up, but only a little, so I guess I'm only kind of pregnant."
I told her that was the same thing as kind of dead. Kind of broken. Kind of on fire. You either were or you weren't.
"Well, I'm'a take one next week to see if I'm any more pregnant or if it was wrong."
Be proud of me. I wasn't snarky to her a bit.
And if you are the praying kind, please repeat after me:
Dear GodAllahBuddha, Please. If you a good and kind and merciful deity there is no way in hell Dawn will be pregnant. I have two kids in diapers. I do NOT need her to move home, knocked up and moodier than ever. If you aren't, please make other arrangements for me. I've just about had enough. Amen.
Would she like us? Would she be as bad as the kids we'd heard stories about? Did she really want to be adopted? How much did she remember about her life with her birth family? What did she think about the tall bald guy and the short fat lady? How much of her heart was left untouched?
On the way home, we were beyond anxious. Terror. Sheer, blinding, brain-numbing terror had set in. I couldn't think of a single open-ended question to ask the little brunette with the sad brown eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. So there was a lot of awkward silence.
Since then, I have learned the answers to these and so many other questions. She does not like us. She is worse. Ambivalent. Too much. Suckers! Not much at all.
Since then, we've gone from expecting high school graduation and some form of after high school education to hoping she at least gets to go to prom before she drops out or is kicked out. We've gone from looking forward to her getting married and having a family to making plans to take custody of a child from her should the unthinkable happen and birth control fails. We have given up mentioning our kids around people who have successful kids. It's hard to compare the happenings of probation and mental health court with academic decathalon, honor roll and soccer goals.
"Yay sweetie! You didn't cut yourself or anyone else this week! Good for you! Let's see if NEXT WEEK we can convince that soap is not the devil and make you not stink!"
As mentioned in a few posts, we met BioMama and BioGranny last weekend. One of the stories BioGranny told us was of a visit to a court ordered psychiatrist shortly before Leigh and her sisters were taken again. Apparently, Leigh was covered with bruises from head to toe, where BioMoms evil boyfriend kicked and beat Leigh for falling asleep when she was supposed to be standing in the corner. Leigh told the shrink that they didn't hurt because she liked it when he paid attention to her. BioMom chimed in, "Yeah, he used to beat and kick the hell out of her." (And she probably didn't feel the pain, or at least not for long. We got her when she was six. It wasn't until about age eleven that she started to actually experience physical pain.)
BioGranny then said, "You must be doing somethin right for her to be as normal as she is, because she's always been crazy."
Insert whatever your outrage statement and/or sound effect is. I used a lot of them over the weekend. Repeatedly. Then I just sort of began relying on old fashioned cussing.
But I digress. Today is the ninth anniversary of what we have tried to celebrate for nine years---- Gotcha Day. A kind of bonus birthday to celebrate the day we got her. Today, I paid to have a second set of holes pierced in her ears. This in an attempt to get her to stop poking random holes in her ears.
Happy Gotcha Day, Leigh. I love you. No matter what. Always and forever. My number one job is to keep you safe. I sure wish you'd help us out with that sometimes. Have we helped you fix any of those holes in your heart? Do you still need the angels to watch over you?
Still, so many questions to answer (and most of those are statements or ideas we've used over and over with her). Maybe this time next year, I'll have more answers.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
So I shall sum up, until I can have a nooner or a quickie with my laptop and start telling some of stories I have from the last week.
1. Met Danae and Leigh's bio mom and grandma. Damn. Explains a lot, lemme tell you. No really. Let. Me. Tell. You. (Sadly, it will have to be later.)
2. GGA was a complete bitch to her own kid and mine at graduation. She needs to be punched in a kidney or two. Or in the nose. Or shanked mightily.
3. MoMo was a hit at the Braves game. Too bad The Beach Boys weren't. They sucked.
4. The Beach Boys sucked because Brian Wilson was totally lip synching, that is, when the old fart bothered to even move his lips.
5. The Georgia Aquarium was way too busy, but it was cool as hell. I love me some penguins, belugie whales and otters. And manta rays. I do not, however, like $4 bottled beverages.
6. If you are fascinated by the slightly macabre, anatomy or just bodies in general, definitely check out the Bodies Exhibit. It was really interesting and far too educational to be of any overt interest to the teens, but they still liked it.
7. Prepaying to park at a professional sporting event is a waste of money.
8. One should always carry sunscreen.
9. The Bodies Exhibit showed me once again that MoMo is WAY smart-- she noticed right away that the body in front of her had different parts than her own. And she kept grabbing herself ala Madonna 1987, dancing and pointing at the shrunken penis on the first body we saw. Then pointing at herself. "Yes MoMo. Boys have different parts than girls." She stopped. Pointed at herself and the man. I said, "Yep. He has an outie. You have an innie. That's how boys and girls are different."
10. A popular comedian says that you can't fix stupid. I'd argue that one can also not fix mean, jealous, sneaky or drug-addled. But I could be wrong.
11. I don't like Zima, but DAMN. The one I had was awesome on Monday at the baseball game. It's amazing how much heat changes your tast in things.
12. Fleas suck.
13. So do abscessed armpits and yeast infections.
14. I lost my list of random things to blog about that I was making on our trip in the hotel. I hope I find it. It had some neat things on it.
15. GET OVER IT PEOPLE! HUBBY IS OVER SIX FEET TALL AND VERY PALE. OUR KIDS ARE NOT. Geesh. I feel better.
16. The worst thing about adoption is having to share your children.
I'll elaborate more later. Have lots to think about and be thankful for (Like my teeth. Again, more on that later).
Wish me sweet dreams. I haven't had much sleep. And I need it.