Anybody still there?

So, I'm back.  I think. 
I need an outlet again, and you guys and the world of the blog were very therapeutic. 

So here I am.

Lets see.  Dawn did indeed get prego, and now has a special needs, medically fragile infant--born two months early to an emergency c-section with gastroschisis (intstines, liver and stomach on the outside instead of inside) and extra fluid on her brain. She is not coping with motherhood well, and I may have to make a second call to social services.

Leigh eventually was released from residential way too early.  Even the state medical director in charge of the entire system agreed she needed to stay, but ordered her released based on the rules and regs of the state system. It's been an incredibly turbulent 7 months, in which time Leigh discovered the joys of pot and has decided to live elsewhere because we will not allow her to use drugs at home. 

Danae is doing well, preparing to graduate and spreading her wings.

The babies are both toddlers now and are probably going to be a permanent addition.

I'm hanging on thanks to sheer force of will (where I got it, I have no idea) and modern pharmacology (who knew xanax was so nice?!)

Any way, I need to vent, and there are lots of stories to tell. 

To adopt, or not to adopt... What exactly is the question?

Hubby and I are faced with what will likely be the most important decision of our adult lives: Whether or not we should adopt the two babies we’ve been fostering since January and February. Today, the birth mom told the caseworker that she is considering surrendering her rights. We think she’s pregnant again, which is why we think she’s considering surrendering—if she gets social services out of her life, she has a better shot at keeping number three.

Reasons aside, how do you know if you’re making the right decision? Hubby wants to sit down and do a pros and cons list, and have a conversation about it. I know we need to, but when I think about making this decision, all I want to do is cry. And I don’t know what that means.

I’ve always been a “gimme a sign” kind of girl. We have known without a doubt that we were supposed to adopt every other time we have, and I’ve been praying and hoping for the same clear signs this time, but so far, nothing. And I don’t know what that means.

When I think about the future with these babies—as little kids, as pre-teens, as teenagers, as young adults—and I see three very different paths. I see them with their bio mom. I see them with us. And I see them with someone else—usually, in all honesty, someone who looks more like them than we do. People younger. People less jaded.

I think of how hard it’s been with Marie and Dawn and Danae and Leigh, and I wonder what impact that has had on the babies, what impact it would have on them in the future. I know Leigh is a horrible influence, and that Danae would be devastated if we don’t adopt. And I still can’t decide.

I think of their beautiful big brown eyes and their faces smiling into someone else’s face and calling someone else mom. And I cry. Then I think about getting to pick them up and take them fun places on weekends as grandparents and I don’t cry as much.

I think of all the time I spend with them, that I spend doing for them, and wonder what I did before, and what I would do after, if they leave. I think about their bio mom crying, looking at the photo album we gave her and her saying, “They look so happy.” And I wonder if them being adopted by someone else would ruin the happiness we’ve worked so hard to help them find.

Will they remember us five years down the road? Ten years? Twenty years? Or will we be there with them, at our own retirement ages, as they graduate and go to college. I can’t decide which picture has the stronger pull, and I don’t know what that means. Or if it means anything at all.

Sometimes, I think the fact that I’m even struggling with this decision is a sign. But a sign to keep them or let them go? Are we being selfish to want to keep them? I know there are hundreds of young couples who are where Hubby and I were ten years ago—eager and breathless and full of hope and anticipation, waiting for the phone call that is the beginning of labor pains for them. But then I wonder if maybe the dark road we’ve traveled with our four older girls has been a test, and the babies are the reward.

Are we being selfish to consider letting them go? I miss my husband, and the marriage we had before we had kids. I miss spending time with him without kids around, and we have reached the light at the end of the tunnel with the older ones, and we starting to plan on what to do with the extra space in our empty nest. Plus, with Leigh being so completely special, we need more time with her. But what impact will it have on the babies if they leave us for another family? What impact will it have on the four who are already ours?

And what does it mean that I can’t answer a single question I’ve posted here? And that I don’t know what any of it means? And that I’m crying as I type, with no clearer perspective?

And I still don’t know which one would hurt less.

A Funny at the Mall

We were at the indoor playground at the mall, MoMo was running around, and I was rocking NaNa in her car seat.  A precocious little girl with big blue eyes and dimples skipped up to me and said, "She doesn't go with you."

I smiled at her, and said, "Yes, she does."

Girl, looking at NaNa and then at me:  But she's black.

Me: Yes she is.  Do you know what adoption is?

Girl, looking puzzled: No.

Me:  When a mommy won't take care of her babies, and someone else does, they call that adoption. 

Girl: Oh. 

She skips off to the slide.  Convo over.

I told Blue Eyes' parents about our little conversation before we left.  They were really apologetic.  I assured them that I wasn't offended, but that I wanted to let them know in case the subject came up later.

Still makes me smile a little, even though we haven't adopted the babies, it was the easiest way I could think to explain it on the spur of the moment.

Weekly Wrap-Up, July 25

Aloha, bloggerites!  Whassup?

We just got back from a cross country road trip that lasted two weeks, so the blogging has been kinda sparse. 

Here are some things I have learned, or experienced in the last few weeks...

Uncomfortable Personal Realization:  I have become my mother.

It's not terrible, it's just that some of the things that annoy me most about her, are now how I most annoy my children. 

Here are two examples.

When I yell my child's name, it means "personal appearance in front of me right now no matter what you were doing."  I'm 38 years old, and when MY mom yells for me, she still expects me to show up.  No matter that I'm feeding the NaNa with one hand and changing MoMo with the other.   I do that to my kids and am just now seeing what a pain it is. 

Also, there's the "if it's not cleaned my way, it's not cleaned" attitude. 

I'm not a neat freak. But my mom is. 

I think she might be an officer in the Neat Freaks of America Club. 

Two weeks at her house went a long way, I think, in showing my teenagers where some of my deep-seated housework neuroses come from.  Towel-folding is the best example. I am a towel-folding nazi.  They must be done just so, or I lose it.  I showed my daughters my mom's bathroom closet.  Perfect order.  Now they know. 

Proof That No Matter How Much You Want Someone to Change, Gorillas Will Still Eat Bananas:  The Gorilla of the Week award goes to Dawn. I asked Dawn and Dumbass to mow our yard while we were gone, offering to pay $50 for the job.  Three doors down from us is the young college student who bird sat and fed the outdoor cats for us while we were gone.  One week into the trip, I asked Dawn if they had been by to mow.  She said they'd done it the day before. I asked Critter Sitter, and she said it hadn't been done.  A friend of mine got her hubby to mow it for us the day before we got back.  I asked Dawn about it tonight and she admitted to lying about having mowed it, and apologized.  "I knew it was stupid to lie to you about it, that you'd know we didn't do it."  I didn't bother to ask why she lied.  It's just one more thing.

REALLY Uncomfortable Personal Realization:  I think I might be too selfish or lazy or something to adopt the babies should we be given the chance.  Let me 'splain.  While on vacation, I tried really hard to NOT ask the teenagers to help with the babies.  It was their vacation too, right?  Which meant that I didn't get to go fishing much.  I love fishing.  No, I take that back. I love being on a boat, out on the water in the sun.  Fishing is optional.  Anyway, Nana is not a big fan of fishing, being on a boat, out on the water, in the sun.  MoMo not only is not a fan, she is a member of the rebellion against such things--but this is the child who screams her way through bathtime. 

Because Hubby hasn't had a vacation in five years, and because I get one every summer, I stayed off the boat all but two times.  They got to boat nearly every day.  And it pissed me off--not at hubby or the teens--but at the babies.  Now stupid is that??  They can't help it that one is six months old and the other is mortified of all things having to do with water.  But I spent too much of the vacation resentful of the fact that I couldn't do the things I wanted to because of the babies.  That either says that at 38, I am still not mature enough to NOT be selfish about not getting my way, or maybe it was the sign I've been asking for when it comes to whether or not we should adopt. But every time I even think about them leaving, it brings tears to my eyes.  Whuck is that??

Another problem is that next week, we're spending the week at the beach with my brother and one of my best friends. And I'm taking the teenagers and the babies. And I'm already resenting all the sunbathing, boogey-boarding and general cavorting I WON'T be getting to do because the babies will be there.  I feel so childish, and I'm really embarrassed by it.  And the irony is....

New Favorite Things:  I never understood why otherwise sane adults would let a baby chew on their fingers.  NaNa has turned into a drool monster, and spends hours gnawing on anything she can get her hands on.  She has a nub of a tooth popping in, so I know that's what it is.  However, today, she caught my pinky finger and gnawed on it for about an hour, and it was such a fascinating thing, watching her face work and change as she chomped away.  And she bites hard. 

Last night, we were taking Danae's girlfriend home, and I heard MoMo talking to herself.  At 21 months, she was sitting in her car seat, reciting all the words she knew.  MaMa, PaPa, DeeDee, Eee (Leigh), izzie (the dog), seat, cup, butt, diaper, head, hair, ears, eyes, nose, mouth, tongue, teeth, belly, arm, leg, elbow, knee, feet, toes, booty, eat, please, thank you, bless you, welcome, hello, bye-bye....  the list goes on, but that's how she was entertaining herself.  And while she's naming the parts she's pointing them out on herself.  New cutest thing ever.  Plus she's gotten conversational enough that she's fun to babble with.  She's even used a big girl potty and big girl toilet paper once.  And she points out when she needs to be changed. 

IGiving NaNa a bath is just delicious.  She lies on the bottom of the tub and kicks and splashes and smiles and laughs, and the thought of giving that up just slices my soul. 

Just Clean it Dammit:  I got up with the babies at 7:30 this morning and had the teenagers up and working by 9 to clean the house.  "Why do we have to do this?"   Because it's dirty and it needs to be cleaned and I'm tired of nagging you so no cell phone computer or tv until we're done.  Pissed 'em off, but got 'em moving.  I'm such a motivator.

Cell Phone Conundrum:  I am trying to decide what kind of phone I want.  I have some money put back for a fun phone, and I've narrowed it to three:  the Samsung Jack, the Blackberry Bold (with camera) or the Iphone.  I am desperately hard on all things mechanical, so I'm desperately scared of breaking an expensive toy.  Everyone keeps telling me the Iphone, but only if I can get the old version and not the new one, or the Blackberry.  But the Jack is the least expensive, and will do everything I want.  What to do, what to do?

Excruciatingly Painful Soul Searching--This one requires a whole other post, but here's the rhetorical, "get you in the mood" question:  Have you ever behaved in a way that you have been absolutely convinced was right, and after many years, found yourself second-guessing the behavior?  That's where I am right now, and it's rocking me to the core.

Among the best vacation moments:  Swimming in Lake Michigan. Yes, the water is FREAKING COLD, but there is something amazing about swimming in ten foot deep water that you can clearly see the bottom of--it's bracing and refreshing and every summer, it rejuvenates me. 

Also, with the same outcome (the whole refreshing and rejuvenating thing) I got to hang with THE Claire Montgomery MD, of Car Dancing fame.  You see, we were acquaintances back when big bangs were not just theories in a text book, and we connected through a social networking site, discovered how much we have in common, and are now dangerously close to becoming, dare I say it?  Friends?  I  don't use that term lightly, as I have very few people in my life that I consider friends.  But I'm pretty sure she is one of them, or soon will be.

Claire is wicked funny, has her own house-full-of-crazy-she-didn't-give-birth-to, and the same sort of "love me, love my family" mentality. And her blog rocks.  Two of my favorites by her are here and here.  I'll see you again in October, and don't forget...  we pinky promised!!  (I'll blog about that later. Pinky promise.)

New Motto:  I found an over-priced sign in a gift store on vacation that read "Don't let your yesterdays ruin your tomorrows."  I didn't buy it, but I plan to use that saying A LOT in the coming year or so.

Upcoming events... This week, we'll be dusting off beach stuff, making photo albums, running a million errands, working ahead in the first class of my doctoral program, reading stuff for lesson plans for school (my job school, not school I'm attending) which starts way too soon, and trying to pare down the immense load of STUFF around my house.  I have a basket for craigslist and freecycle-- I just have to find the time to start posting!!

Happy blogging!

Firsts...

Today was a day of firsts, some great, some not so great.

We'll start with the happy stuff:  MoMo used the big girl potty, big girl toilet paper and said "Bye-bye peepee!" to her urine as it flushed away.  I've sat her on it several times prior to a bath to get her in the habit, but tonight, she asked without being prompted.  Actually, she was about to be unceremoniously plopped into the tub, skipping the time on the toilet, when she pulled away, went over to the toilet, patted the front of her diaper and pointed at the toilet. 

Also, today, NaNa, went from lying down to sitting up in order to reach for a toy...  all by herself! 

Hooray for the babies!!!

Now, the other first, not so great.  Dawn and Marie are visiting their birth family this week.  The woman they call grandma tried to help Dawn run away at one point, so my respect level for her is pretty much zero.  That, and when I confronted her about it, she started making stuff up about other members of my family.  She's not their grandma, but a neighbor who lived near them when they were kids.

Anyway, I got a text from Dawn today saying that as a welcome home gift, her family had paid for her to get a monroe and her first tattoo.  (A Monroe is a piercing above the lip to look like Marilyn Monroe's famous mole.)  The tattoo is an algae green hibiscus flower down near her hoo-hah.  Yay for us.  Part of what irks me about this is that she texted me yesterday, wanting Hubby and me to pay a deposit on an apartment. Again. 

HAHAHAHAHA.  I ignored that text, choosing to follow my new rule of life: Be nice.

Weekly Wrap-up-- June 13

Hello everyone. It's been kind of quiet, but still full of some interesting blips on the radar. Here they are... Biggest TMI moment: Both my teenage daughters spontaneously sharing that that they rarely wear underwear. I feel like a total mom failure. Danae: Mom, you never free-ball it? Me: Um, no. One, I have no balls. Two, that's just nasty. Danae: How is it nasty? Sometimes you have to just air it out. Me: Not every day, and certainly not out of the house. Danae: Man I hardly ever wear underwear. Me: Again, nasty. And TMI. Danae: How is that nasty? I'm being serious! Me: I am too! Your body produces natural moisture down there, and to not have some protection between that and your clothes is just gross. I totally lost that argument. I looked like an uncool fuddy-duddy. Which I am, but still. Ew.

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!

Weekly Wrap-up, June 6

I didn't do a wrapup last weekend because we were out of town, and I'm still planning to share the details, but Hubby's been on second shift all week, leaving me with solo teen and baby duty, which leaves me no time for blogging or anything else.

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!!!

Weekly Wrap-up, May 16

Not as much story telling tonight, folks, as I'm very tired after an emotionally exhausting week. I'm also facing teenager and baby duty by myself for two days this week, as I have sent hubby to hang with his family on his two days off. 

So here you have it, in all it's abbreviated glory:  My life.

Silly Goal of the Week:  Get sunburned by the end of the weekend.  I succeeded.  I even have a weird video of my neck, but that was too personal.  Suffice it to say that where the sun hit, I am the color of a lovely red thing.  And on the pale side, it's just pale ol' me.

Best day:  Today.  Spent the wee hours with the wee babe, NaNa, whilst she slurped away on the formula.  (FYI:  That crap STINKS!!) Then went to the beach, to work on my only goal of the weekend, which was to get a sunburn.  (Yes, I know it will make me look like someone's old SUV seat, complete with cancer and chemo, but dammit, fat looks better tan!!)

Today at the beach, I convinced MoMo (thats her cuteness in the pic), who HATES the water, to get wet...  if we redefine "convinced" as "picked her sandy body up, toted her out into the water told her to take a deep breath, pinched her nose closed and dunked her."  She put up a little fight, but after that, she became Barnacle MoMo, and was pretty quiet.  Terror, maybe?  But my friend LC says it's the only way she'll get over her fear of the water.

We watched an entertaining show of Danae and Annette trying to put up a sun tent.  That's Danae wrapped in the tent, as she tries to figure out how it hooks to the ground while the wind was blowing, and the rest of us were laughing. 

Then we snarked under our breath as a school of dolphins scared the crap out of a bunch of tourists who were certain that there were sharks getting ready to attack. 

On a positive note, the jelly fish that scared the crap outta me was dead.  Positive for me.  I'm guessing not so much for him.

Worst Day:  Any day, Monday through Friday, last week. I teach a lot of seniors, and this is the time of year when their heads fell off. And me being the softy that I am, cried with at least one student per day last week. 

Some of it is "OMGWhatAmIGoingToDoWithMyLife?!" terror, some of it is family drama (one girl found her bio-dad; another, at the tender age of 18, just had hers sent to a nursing home because she couldn't care for him any more.) 

Some of it is gang-related (two groups of boys ready to fight and go nutso because "someone said he heard that this other dude had saw Tookie talk trash about Lil Mike.) 

Some of it is just nerves. Some is poor planning (Why haven't I heard from XYZ College yet? I sent them my application a week ago!)  Some of it is a complete lack of a plan, so they start to tank graduation, in order to have more time to think about it and not have to leave the relative comfort of high school.  I had a NICE "Come to Jesus" meeting with that boy on Friday. 

"Can't Wait til All the Kids Are Gone" Moment: When we threw away all the mismatched plates and glasses and bought styrofoam and plastic.  What's the point of having nice dishes when the kids break them, and the adults have to wash them.  So buh-bye glass!  Hello environmental degradation! Plus we're hoping it will create a little more time for Mom and Dad.

Proof that Gorillas do Indeed Still Eat Bananas:  When one of  our kids acts like themselves, and we get irritated, we go back to a phrase I heard somewhere.  Don't buy a gorilla and expect it not to eat bananas.  So my pet goril.. I mean daughter Dawn, showed up today wanting to borrow fishing poles. This as I was hopping out of the shower and into clothes at 3:35 for a tutoring session at 4:00 with some of my kids who are taking End of Course Tests tomorrow.  I told her that I was running, late, didn't have time to look, and that she and DA couldn't because Hubby had started his project already. 

She took this as "Mom hates me, doesn't want me around, so she's being mean." And she and DA left.  then she told Danae that she didn't understand why I was "trippin." I asked Dawn what that meant. She said I was acting funny and was rude to her.  I told her that she showed up unannounced when I was running an hour late-- I wasn't rude, I was trying to get un-sandy and semi-clean to go to a meeting.

I got a "whatever mom" message back. And so, all is right in the primate world.  When it doesn't center around my little gorilla, she gets grumpy. 

Can't Find the Words Moment:  Tonight, as I was burping NaNa, I realized that she is the perfect fragrance.  The top of her head tonight smells happiness.  It is a combination of so many things-- kid playing outside, sunshine, sand, baby wash, a hint of sweat, some powder.   I wish I could do it justice, find a way to make it come alive for you, but I am not talented enough for the task. Or maybe it's not talent; maybe its one of those things you have to experience a few times so that later in life you can overcome the urge to kill them.  But it is amazing. I just want to hold her against me, and breathe through her hair. Not creepy at all, right?

Question for my readers: Do you tweet? Would you read tweets if I became a twit? And why is facebook such a pain??

This is weird:  Is it possible to become "addicted" to the drama and arguing of your children?  This weekend, Leigh was exiled to her room until it, and she,  magically becomes clean.  And as a result, there was so little arguing around the house that one could almost say there was none.  And I missed it.  Or maybe I missed her. Or the idea of her. Or the daily hope that THIS on will be different. 

Guilty Moment: I got another pedicure.  But I didn't have my Adult Refreshing Beverage, so maybe that balances out somehow.

Navigating Teen Sexuality:  Shopping tonight. Picking up a few things I couldn't live without this week (mascara, sippy cups and panty-liners)

Danae:  Mom, what is dow-shay? (Rhymes with Ow! As in, that hurt.  And hay.)
Me:  Huh?
Danae: That stuff, the dow-shay. 
Me:  Oh, that's douche. 
Danae: No it's not. That's not how you spell it!
Me: I'm pretty sure that's what it is. 
D.: So it's French then?  (Points for public schools!) What's it do anyway?
Me: You shoot it up into your hoo-ha and it's supposed to clean you out, make you feel fresher.
Danae:  I thought you told me they didn't sell sex toys at The Big Store That Sells Everything!

And on that giggly moment, I'll to bed.

Weekly Wrap-up, May 8

First, NaNa is out and home YAY!!!  But, with three days of round-the-clock breathing treatments prescribed. Not so yay, but better than sleeping on hospital chairs.  

Here is is folks, what you all love to end (or start, depending on how you look at it) your week with... a glimpse into the craziness that is us.

WTF Question of the Week: Upon NaNa's admission to the hospital, we received an ugly yellow tub filled with goodies… pre-mixed formula bottles, disposable nipples, toothbrushes and toothpaste, free bath stuff for NaNa, and baby socks. Baby socks with non-slip rubber tread on them.

Why does a newborn need non-slip tread?

Biggest Liberal-Conservative Moment of Angst: At my core, I am a fiscal conservative, with a very liberal heart. It was the liberal (or maybe just cheap) heart that was rejoicing all the free stuff we left the hospital with today, when I realized that we actually had paid for all that crap out of the exorbitant taxes we pay. Here’s the loot we left with: 40 diapers, three packs of wipes, full-sized baby wash, two days worth of premixed formula, with disposable nipples for each 2 oz bottle, a humidifier, a pervy penguin nebulizer (see below), four baby shirts, three blankets, a pillow, two thermos mugs and a towel. And another blue bulb-booger-sucker-outer thingy. I wonder how much Medicaid paid for all that? On second thought, I don’t think I wanna know.

TMI Moment of the Week: After the BIG TALK with Danae, I texted a happily-not-hetero friend of mine to ask her what “going all the way” translated into amongst lesbians.

Her answer: When fingers are “in”volved.

I nearly wrecked my car.

Clutter Sucks: I haven’t seen my dining room table in about three weeks. I pushed a bunch of crap outta the way to put my lap top on it. (I can type on the sofa, but I like how it sounds when I’m sitting at a table. I know. Weird. But you knew that.)

Here’s the manifest, counter-clockwise, from the right: House phone, copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. (Note: Do not, under any circumstances put down or otherwise demean Jane Austen in front of me, or you might be punched in the face. I love her. Everyone needs a Mr. Darcy, or should strive to be like him. Maybe I’ll blog on that soon. And the Zombies parody is freakin’ hilarious.) My camera. Half-eaten bag of chips, old Sonic cup, three Big Store Where You Can Buy Anything at Anytime bags (full, but I don’t know what are in them), today’s newspaper. An empty baby food caddy, a stack of mail, my summer-mandatory beige visor, three packed, taped and ready to ship boxes o’ stuff for our friend who is in Afghanistan. He comes home in August. They’ve been packed since November. More mail. Can of cat food. (Anyone want a kitten? We have four. And I’m allergic to all five of them.) The igloo carrier for the slightly obscene penguin nebulizer we brought home from the hospital. My digital camera case. Two empty bottles. The dog leash. All of the attachments for Mr. Penguin that we aren’t using right now. Hubby’s laptop. My new 1 TB external hard drive (My computer only has about 10% memory left on it, and I got the external drive for $80 on http://www.ecost.com/) A big ass box of newborn to three months baby clothes I got for free from http://www.freecycle.org/. You should check that out if you’re into reusing and too lazy to have a yard sale. I probably need to STOP checking them out. Come to think of it, that’s where I got the baby food caddy and one of the full store bags—more baby clothes.

Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy Nominee: Hubby and I were sitting in the hospital room with NaNa, and the on-call pediatrician came in. She looked at me, looked at hubby, looked at the baby, looked at us again and said, “How’d that happen?”

Hubby shot back, “I’ve been asking Wife that for about three months now, but she swears NaNa's mine.” The doctor thought that was hilarious.

(This is only funny if you know, or remember,  that Hubby and I are very pale, and that NaNa is a deliciously deep Hershey color.)

Yes, People Really Still Live Like That: Danae spent the night Saturday with a friend. She called me at about 6 PM, reminding me to come get Leigh and telling me that she needed more money. Ordinarily, I’d’ve laughed at her, told her to get a job and moved on, but there was something in her voice that paused my smartass button. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me she’d text me, while I headed her way. She told me that her friend’s family didn’t have electricity or running water in their house, so that when she dragged them into a fast food restaurant for lunch, she and Leigh ended up buying them all lunch. Suddenly, a few odd things made sense. Like one time, went to pick up her friend, but she was across the street using the bathroom. I just figured they only had one bathroom and she was having a girl problem. It made me stop and realize how lucky Hubby and I are to have what we have, and that we’ve been able to keep it.

Another Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy Nominee: (Before you judge me here, read the next section about my guilt over this.) I took myself out for a mani-pedi last night. As Danae often points out, I have Flintstone feet which need way more attention than I have time to give them. Anyway, I left Hubby at the hospital with NaNa, went to pick up Leigh, dropped her off at a friend’s house, and realized I had an hour. To myself. 

And then realized the salon was still open. So I went. Leigh’s friend is about as special as she is, and her mama didn’t know Leigh was coming, so they dropped her off at the salon. Leigh promptly asked if she could get her toes done too.

Now, I’ve mentioned before that Leigh has nasty, makes-you-wish-you’d-never-learned-to-breathe feet. I think the last time they were washed was the last time she had her toes done, in about 2005 or so. Mine are just dry and crusty, but I have an excuse (thanks Sjogren's.)  Hers are nasty grubby because she refuses to wash.  So I said yes. At least I’d be able to breathe on the way home.

I tried, via telepathy, sign language, and pointing, to get my pedicurist to tell Leigh’s pedicurist that she was in for it. I failed, and the looks all around when Leigh took off her shoes were pretty funny. The one tech that didn’t have a customer immediately lit candles and went to find some spray. Which she used. Lots.

Thirty minutes later, Leigh’s feet were clean. I can’t remember the last time they looked skin-toned, without crud between the toes and under the nails. I complimented her, saying, “Leigh, your feet look so much better.”

Her tech looked up and me with a really mean look on her face and said, “That’s because they clean now.” I don’t blame her for being mean. If I had to clean Leigh’s feet, I’d have probably said worse. Which, come to think of it, was probably what all that rapid-fire Vietnamese was that was going on while she scraped and scrubbed Leigh’s feet.

To Guilt or not to Guilt, that is the Question: As I was sitting in the massage-y chair, enjoying my favorite part of the pedi-process (the vigorous, minty, exfoliating scrub from the heels to the knees), it hit me that I should not be sitting there enjoying what amounted to Ultimate Laziness while my three month-old daughter was in the hospital getting steroids and breathing treatments.

However, I justified my pampering because while waiting on Leigh to be done hanging at her friend’s house, I couldn’t get anything of real note done at home. And, Hubby was there with her, and between the two babies, NaNa is totally his, and MoMo is mine. (You know you had a parent you liked better than the other.  Be honest.  Even babies know what they like.)

Plus, the last time I disappeared (yesterday morning), I had been running errands so hubby could sleep in, and ended up navigating the public-service hospital with a temperamental toddler and sick infant. So I totally deserved the pampering, right? And it does NOT make me a horrible mom, either, right? RIGHT?

Flashback to the Future Connection:  When I was younger, and pretty much up until we adopted Leigh, I wanted to have six kids. I don’t know why six—it just seemed like the right number. It hit me on the way home from the hospital today, that right now, I have six kids. I’m trying to decide if GodAllahBuddha was trying to send me a message or not. When I pray, I always ask It to be very clear about that message, as sometimes (okay, a lot of the time) I'm not so good with subtle.  And I have been known to misread the signs, so, here’s my prayer this week:

Hey!

Me again. Did that epiphany on the interstate mean that Hubby and I should stop debating about what we’ll do if given the chance to adopt the babies? Was that a sign that I’d hit my six? Or was it a random moment brought to me by an equally random brain?

Love, Me

PS—Thanks for all those times this week when I could have killed someone and didn’t, and for all those times I miraculously found the right words.

Amen.

Moment I Never Saw Coming: Dawn apologized. There must have been an ice cream social in at least part of Hell on Wednesday. Loyal followers will remember that she was a complete and total, how you say?, BEEEE-YOTCH at our “family” dinner Monday. But then, on Wednesday, we had the following brief conversation.

HER: Mama, I just want to tell you I love you and im sorry.

ME: Who are you and why do you have my daughter’s phone?

HER: You would think that since this don’t seem like something that would be coming from me but the last to days I have been really thinkin

ME: Well, this is the first time you’ve apologized for anything unprompted.

HER: I was rude the other day and I have not thanked you for your help and I greatly apprieate it all I do

The spelling and grammar is all hers—as an English teacher, I sometimes feel like a complete and utter failure—however, I think it’s pretty decent for someone with an IQ that barely passes the MR status who dropped out at the beginning of tenth grade.

But it was an APOLOGY. And it was not bullied out of her by her older sister (I asked.) It wasn’t brought on by anything she wanted or needed (She hasn’t asked.) It just happened. And it never has before.

Random Blog Stuff:  Since I now have 14 followers (YAY ME!!!) I have to have a party.  How do I do that on-line? Should we have a theme?  Strippers?  A pony ride?  Both?  Who's bringing the ice??

And now, for the Pervy Penguin: 

You know you wanted to seem him. 

Is it just me, or is it just flat WRONG to attach a pacifier to the end of the hose?

Or do I just have a dirty mind?

************************************************

So that's it for the week. 

For the upcoming one, I'm hoping for some calmness, full of nights of  uninterrupted sleep, the occasional home-cooked meal, the teenagers getting along at least two nights, and more days of perfect weather.

Here's hoping you get some of the same--with or without the pervy penguin!

NaNa Hospitalized...

Quick note...  NaNa has been admitted to the hospital with labored breathing, wheezing, coughing and general respiratory crud.  If you are the thoughts and prayers and happy thoughts kind of people, please send them our way!

It's a long walk home.

Tonight, I've done something I've only jokingly threatened to do to my daughters when they became annoying, obnoxious or "challenging" in public. I drove off and left one of them.


I have been known to say, "It's a long walk back to home." Tonight, it was about two miles.

We were attempting to meet my husband for dinner during his break (with four kids at home, second shift BITES!!) The babies were okay-- NaNa was in the ER last night for wheezing and phlegm and coughing-- at three months old, she has asthma, and a galloping case of bronchiolitis. MoMo is being her silly self.

Leigh started out rough on the way to dinner, but straightened herself up after I told her that I'd turn the car around and leave her at home.

By the time we got to the restaurant, Leigh was fine. When Danae got out of the car, Leigh said, "Get MoMo out!" She said it in a not quite a speaking voice, not quite a yell, so she could be heard out of the closed car. Danae snapped at her, and I told her that it wasn't necessary, Leigh was just trying to make sure she was heard.

Danae got mad and stomped off to the restaurant door. When Leigh got there, Danae said to Leigh, "Don't talk to me at all during dinner." I said, "That wasn't necessary. She was just trying to make sure MoMo got out, so she could too." (My Camry's backseat is a little crowded-- two carseats and a plus sized teenager.)

Inside, Danae takes MoMo to change her diaper. Points for her. I make a list of what to order so the food will get there when Hubby does, being that he only has an hour. I sent Leigh to find out what Danae wanted.

Leigh reported that Danae said, "Hold on, I'm coming." Now, Danae has been known to take up to four hours to get ready to go somewhere. Even her friends know to tell her to be ready an hour before they actually want her to go somewhere.

My response: Well, if she makes it, great. She eats. If not, we have food at home."

Leigh goes to the RR to report that. I'm ordering, when Danae stomps up the the cash register. When the cashier asked what Danae wanted, she was really, really rude to her. And then stomped off again.

Hubby has arrived just in time to see this. He asks what's going . I tell him. I apologize to the worker for my daughter's pissy behavior and head for the table.

When we get to the table, Danae asks me why I only ever tell Hubby what bad kids they are. Her frustration is loud enough that people halfway across the dining room have now turned to watch. Then she moves to the last seat in the row we're in, turns her back to us, starts eating and says NOT ONE WORD during dinner. Leigh was actually mostly socially appropriate, except that she smelled. Ghastly.

After dinner, Danae tried to argue more, and Hubby told her that he'd asked what was going on that she was in such a bad mood. She starts to argue that my attitude is what always puts her in a bad mood. I pointed out that all I had done was point out a misperception and correct her attitude.

She stomped off. Hubby and I decompress together for a moment. We've seen each other in passing for the last three days--last night was the worst. He left to take NaNa to the ER at 1145, and got home when I was getting up (late) for work at 6:30.

We head for the car. Leigh is in the front seat, headphones jamming. No Danae. I loaded the babies up as I casually scanned the parking lot for her. She was across the street in a bank parking lot, on the route we'd take if we were going to the local Buy Everything Under One Roof Store Where Hubby Works. During the attitude problems, I'd told them we weren't going, that I'd give Hubby a list and he'd just pick it up after he got off work.

I would be driving right by her if I were going to the store. Since I wasn't going to the store, and the restaurant was only about 2 miles from home. I drove home.

Leigh, for a change, came to her sister's defense. "If you call the cops on her, I'm going to tell them you knew where she was and just left her."

"You can do that," I told her. "I'll only do that if she's not home in about an hour."

Ooooohwheeee she was MAD!!! Mad like this really, angry cat. I couldn't call her until we got home thanks to a user error on my cell phone--forgot to charge it. How dumb is that?? But I digress.

It actually took her two hours to get home--after calling me and telling me I had to come get her, and that this was why she wanted to leave and never wanted to be hereblahblahblahblah. And calling Marie to ask for a ride. (I'd already texted her and asked her not to pick Danae up if she called.) I told myself that if she wasn't home in fifteen more minutes, I would have called the cops. I think they have a folder for us, with pre-completed forms ready to go.

She didn't say anything when she got home, but went straight to the shower. Poor baby. It was more than 80 degrees, very muggy, and the ground is still so very wet from recent rains. And her with her white shoes.

Lessons learned today: Across town is not really too long a walk, and it is very liberating to put your money (or your car) where your mouth is.

More about today in tomorrow's post. This is just sprinkles on the cupcake!!

Rainbow Poo

MoMo:  Consistency of not quite ground up refried beans. Brick red.

NaNa: Consistency of Noxema. Forest and green streaks. 

I thought you might need to know.

Clearly, it's not about my anniversary.

Tonight is my fifteenth wedding anniversary. Hubby and I were supposed to go out to dinner and a movie or something. Dawn was supposed to come sit at the house with everyone else so that we had an 18 year old present. Danae is truly okay to babysit both babies, but she's only 16. I don't really trust Dawn to do it, but to leave the babies with Danae, we have to have someone over 18.

She was supposed to be at the house with ONLY the girls. No Dumbass Boyfriend. At the last minute, he HAD to come with her. Because he's out on felony bond right now, we will not allow him to be at the house with any of our kids unsupervised. I don't think he'd do anything to hurt the kids, but I don't trust him. At all. Bina knows this, but insisted that he HAD to come with her because he had nowhere else to go. (He's 21. If he needs a keeper that badly... Nevermind. I don't have the energy to get up on my soapbox.)

So we canceled. And she got all upset wondering why.

All we wanted was a quiet dinner alone. But we didn't get it. What we got was a semi-annoying dinner with Danae and Leigh and the babies. Leigh doesn't know when to quit. Ever. So we end up yelling at her.

Often. Frequently. Hourly.

For example...

"Leigh, get your face away from the baby."

Evil giggling.

"Oh. My. God. Leigh! Get your nose OUT of the baby's mouth! That's just fucking disgusting!"

"Now, Leigh. Leigh. Leigh! Leeeeee-eeeeigh. LEIGH! NOW!"

"Dammit, Leigh. NOW! Should I call MaryJo?"

Now I get a dirty look designed to quell a mob boss. But at least her nose is out of the baby's mouth. (A note on Leigh's nose: She breathes like Darth Vador because she has really bad allergies and asthma, does not clean her room EVER, rarely takes her asthma meds, and smokes as much as she can whenever our backs are turned. She picks her nose. Until it bleeds. So it’s scabby and boogery, and noisy. Does this help the "why is that so incredibly wrong and disgusting?" question you were pondering? Thought so.)

MaryJo is the probation officer. I had high hopes for her, but she's just as pussed out as the rest of anyone having to do with juvenile court.

Anyway, that's a real conversation that occurred after dinner, during which we corrected her -- and I kid you not-- at least 100 times.

There are weeks that go by when I haven't said a single nice thing to her or about her. And I'm embarrassed to take her anywhere because she's so horribly behaved and so gross that I don't want to be seen with her. How horrible is that? I'm supposed to be her mom, and while I love her, I feel /think all of the following, sometimes all at once:

1. I don't like her. I don’t like people who do shit to annoy people on purpose, and she constantly does that.

2. She drives me completely bat-shit crazy… on purpose. (See #1)

3. She smells like an old locker room most of the time. No deodorant refuses to wash the fishy parts, and has the worst foot odor known to man.

4. She has gone from a size 10 to a size 20 this school year.

5. She believes really tight or really baggy t-shirts are dress clothes. But only if they haven’t been washed. She doesn’t do her laundry. (See #4)

6. She cut all her hair off using an eyebrow razor. She looks like a boy with that genetic giant boob disease.

7. I gauge the time I leave work by how long I'll have to put up with her before she gets tired of driving us nuts and puts herself to bed. Sometimes I invent errands to avoid spending time with her. But then, when no one else is around, she’s okay.

I know I should be more sympathetic toward her. She has an alphabet soup of diagnoses and issues, but dammit, she's been with us since 2001. At almost 16, you'd have thought she'd have figured out SOMETHING by now.

Granted, she no longer bites, pulls hair or goes into hours-long rages where she has to be held down. She still puts holes in the wall, but at least she hangs posters over them now. Maybe I’m being too hard on her? Or maybe I’m just tired and numb to the drama.

Regardless, my fifteenth anniversary was not spent in the solitary company of my sexy bald husband holding hands and enjoying refreshing adult beverages. It was spent wondering why Dawn has to take every chance to force the Dumbass Boyfriend down our throats, and why Leigh would want the baby to suck on her nose.

Weekly Wrap-up, April 25

And the Jury says: In the case of Sketcher’s Shape-Ups, the Jury says No, with explanation. Most people would probably be fine, and if I didn’t have plantar fascitis, I’d love them. However, they aggravated my plantar fascia, and that alone is reason not to wear them again. However, they are right on point as far as what they’re advertised to do. My posture was better, and I noticed a difference in how I walked and moved.

So, if you’re a normal type person, money well spent. If you’re kind of special like me, not a good purchase. That being said, I have a gently used pair or white ones, size 9.5, for sale…


Biggest Frustration: I hate being sick and not having anyone at home give a shit about it. I missed three days of work this week with an ear infection, sinus infection and something bronchitis/asthma-related. I spent Wednesday in bed, and tried to Thursday and Friday, but my children didn’t seem to care that inhaling at a speed other than really slow would send me into a coughing fit. I got no help with the babies other than my husband. Except when I walked in the room, handed them to one of the teenagers and said, give me two hours to sleep. That worked today.  But really, when your parents were sick, didn't you at least pretend to care? Or am I being delusional?

Biggest TMI Moment: Dawn asked about boobs. And sex. “When you’re, you know, having fun, is it true that they grow a cup size?”

Having fun?

“You know, messing around.” Oh. Sometimes it really sucks having such a vivid imagination. The ensuing conversation about what might make your boobs grow a cup size in a short amount of time lead to a discussion about what it means to “like it rough.” Leigh and Danae were appalled at that part. Bina was intrigued.

Pleghmiest Situation that Lead to a New Friendship: I’ve been sick most of this week. I went to the doctor Tuesday morning, and was told I have an ear infection, a sinus infection and crud in my lungs. I took the nose drops, inhaler and antibiotic and stuck it out at work the rest of the day. I called in for Wednesday because I was still coughing so ridiculously hard. I attempted to sleep on Thursday, but instead, went back to the doc. Two more prescriptions, and $75 later, I had cough syrup and steroids. Of that money, $68 of it was for cough syrup.

Cough syrup!

 I was livid, and cursed my doctor, her PA, the nursing staff, and all their offspring for the next five generations. Then I met Tussionex. I’m not hawking a product, but da-ummm! That stuff is amazing! Up until my little bottle of miracle drug and I were introduced, I’d been coughing so much that I pulled muscles in my chest and couldn’t talk.

One dose of my new friend, and I slept without coughing for about seven straight hours.

Meanest Mom Moment: Did you know that I discriminate against Danae's friends because I wouldn’t let her have one of them spend the night Saturday night? She was gone from 11:45 am to 8:30 PM Friday. She was gone from 10 AM Saturday to 6 PM Saturday night. My theory was that she didn’t need to have a friend over or go anywhere, as she’d had plenty of on the go time already. I was told that my discrimination against her friends is why she so desperately wants to leave. Okay. If that’s the worst thing anyone says to me in a week, it’s been okay.

Self-Realization Moment: I have become that Mom. The one who dresses her children in matching outfits. I can’t help myself. They’re so cute. The baby girls AND the clothes. My teenagers think I’ve lost it, but they mostly just roll their eyes. Carter's makes these cute little outfits that look like dresses, but have built in undies, and I have bought two sets of matching outfits for the babies. Pictures to come.

Other frustrating things: I still can’t find a way to breach Dawn's loneliness. She seems to be slipping further and further away, and no matter what I try, how I approach her, she wants nothing to do with me. We’ve always said that she was smart enough to know she had problems, but not mature enough to do anything about them. RAD, Depression and Borderline Personality Disorder are an icky, icky combination.

Positive Notes:

1. I have officially lost 13 pounds.

2. We got our federal tax refund a month early. MiniVan here I come! New windows here I come! New bicycles here we come! (We finalized an adopted last year, which makes for a nice visit with Uncle Sam the Tax Man.)

3. We are getting a hellacious deal on a 1999 Plymouth Venture. It was donated to the local tech school, and I know the guy who teaches automotive repair there. He’s going to sell it to us for the cost of the parts needed to get it up and running. It was repossessed, and the guy who wasn’t paying his bills refused to tell the repo people how to turn off the alarms system. So, the repo company, rather than have to dismantle the alarm system, donated it to the school to play with. It's been sitting for about a year, but I can’t wait!! One car, and my WHOLE family can go at the same time!

4. Hubby has begun working on his second book. Go hubby!

5. NaNa has gone from Scrawny Chicken Baby to Michelin Tire Man Baby. With a cuter smile. It melts my heart when she smiles and babbles at me.

On-Going Frustrations:

1. MoMo has issues with the word please. I don’t know if all toddlers do this, never having had one before, but why is it so hard to her to say “Please?” She can say the word, and will repeat it if we’re playing around, but when she wants something and we tell her to “say please” she completely loses it. Throws herself down and screams and cries.

2. Trying to get Danae and Leigh to be nice to each is officially impossible. Danae nags Leigh, who then shuts down and sends herself to her room, or becomes so annoying that we want her to leave us alone.

This week: Hubby and I will celebrate fifteen years of marriage. He’s awesome. And we have a WIC appointment on Wednesday. That will be nice. Bio family took the WIC vouchers out of our diaper bag during a visit, so we haven’t had any WIC support since mid February.

Moment of Gratitude: I was sorting and packing baby clothes tonight and realized exactly how much our friends, and in some cases, strangers, have helped us to be able to parent the babies. I don’t know what we would have done without them. When we got MoMo at the end of January, we had NOTHING for toddlers or babies. Within 48 hours, we had everything we needed. When we found out we were getting her sister, we had everything in place the same day. How I will ever repay these wonderful people is beyond me. I love them, and would like to say Thank You, even though none of them will ever read this.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So, another week, more gray hair, and less space in our house. What can I say? We are our own unique brand of crazy.

And we only have one bathroom.

Patience, Girl! Patience.

Last night, I did something I don't think any self-respecting mom ought to do: I rented a hotel room for my 18 year-old daughter and her Dumbass Boyfriend. 

The Backstory:  Dawn and Dumbass Boyfriend have been attempting independence since the end of January.  They have not been very successful.  So unsuccessful, in fact, that she is back home with us until June 1, when, presumably, they will have saved enough money to move into a cheap apartment on the bad side of town. 

They have officially worn out their welcome everywhere, and found that short of a homeless shelter, they had nowhere to stay.  DB cannot stay at our house for several reasons. One, I don't like the whole shacking up thing, and I am not going to allow it in my roof on my sofa, that I have to sit on every day. Ew.  Gross.  STOP IT OVERLY VIVID IMAGINATION!!  STOP IT NOW!! 

Second, he is out on bond, pending (at last count) eight felony charges, including aggravated assault, burglary, theft, etc.  (Beating up and robbing drug dealers, even though they are criminals, is still against the law. Weird, huh?)  We have foster kids, and two other teenage daughters, and quite simply, I don't trust him or want him around. 

Last night we had a long heart to heart with both of them.  He agreed to go stay with his grandma and work for his uncle to save up money.  She agreed to stay with us to find a job and save up money. (Oh yeah, she lasted a week at the other job.  She got sick , took two weeks off and is shocked that they don't want her back.)  If they were able to do that, we would pay for the deposit and first month's rent on the little shady-side-of-town apartment.

Assuming they're both working, they can make it easily on minimum wage. And if/when he goes to prison, she'll struggle, but she'll be able to maintain her independence and keep the apartment.

After all that was decided, we sent them to the Microtel, and his grandma picked him up this afternoon.

It's a win-win for everyone except my bank account. He has time to prove to us that he is not as much of a Dumbass Boyfriend as we think he is, and she has time to save up money to rent the place on her own.  (I'm so optimistic, aren't I?)

Actually, what I'm feeling is hypocritical.  I don't want her shacking up with him, but I sure as hell don't want her to marry him.  I want her to be on her own because keeping up with her mood swings and drama is worse the PMS week at the Bunny Ranch.  But I don't want her on her own with him. 

I look at who I dated in this time period of my own life and think, "Holy God, what was I thinking, and why the hell did You let me continue to think it for so long?"

On the flip side, both my and Bill's parents helped us a lot on the way, even when I'm pretty sure they didn't like us very much.  Granted, we are neither one of us felons or dropouts with IQs that border mentally retarded.  (That, sadly, is NOT hyperbole. If it were, I'd feel a little better about the whole thing.) But that's all beside the point. 

So here I am, wondering if we're doing the right thing.  I mean really, what kind of parent rents her teenage daughter a hotel room?  Or helps her daughter prepare to move out with a Dumbass Boyfriend.  At least I have someone to talk to, my dear, dear blog.  You, and all three of my followers. 

Now my only question is, where's she gonna sleep?  We gave her bedroom to the babies!

Weekly Wrap-up

Weirdest feeling: Being peed on by NaNa as I was carrying her from their bedroom to the bathroom for a bath.

Biggest Frustration: Leigh spent most of the weekend in her room because we've asked her to clean it a gazillion times and it still hadn't gotten done. We aren't neat freaks, but she has really, really odiferous feet.  The smell like backwoods road kill in August.  And she doesn't clean her shoes. So they smell like death forgot to shower for a few days after shoveling manure on a pig farm.  And when she wears socks, they smell just as bad. And since she doesn't do her laundry unless we threaten to call her probation officer, her room just reeks.  And when I have to put a towel across the bottom of her door to keep the stench in her room, it's time to do something about it.  It would probably help if she would wash more frequently, but that's another blog post, one about the delights of living with a teen-aged RADdish.

Biggest TMI Moment: Danae asked me if she could get a Brazillian wax.  Did I really need to know that my 16 year old is unhappy with the hair situation down there?  And do I want to contemplate WHY she thinks she needs a Brazillian wax?

Stupidest Work Moment: A student at my school got arrested for throwing his federally-provided free breakfast toast at the school resource officer. 

Most Irritating Moment: Realizing that Lizzie the Hobo Dog STILL has fleas.  We have tried everything and can't get rid of the damn things. 

Meanest Mom Moment: Dawn called last night.  She has a horrible double ear infection, sinus infection and cold (brought on mostly from living in a 40 year old camper with five other people who don't clean.) The infections were so bad that her ears were bleeding.  Anyway, she called because she and the dirtbag she ran off with are crashing at some distant relatives of his, and insted of staying home to take care of his still-feverish sweetie, he went off with some friends to listen to a band and drink a lot of beer. She called me, crying, because she didn't feel good, dirtbag left her with people she doesn't know, and she hates being sick with no one to take care of her. 

Instead of offering to rescue her, I said, "What do you need from me tonight? Advice, someone to vent to, or something else?" She tearfully admitted that she wanted me to come get her so she could sleep at home. I said, "Then you need to ask." She didn't.  Still won't ask for help.  I gave her a healthy pause.  When I'd paused long enough, I added, "If you decide to ask, don't wait too late because I can't drag the babies out in the middle of the night unless it's an emergency."  She quietly told me she loved me, and that she'd let me know. I haven't heard from her since.

Other frustrating things: 

1. DFCS (Department of Family and Children's Services, pronounced Dee-Fax) still hasn't paid us for February and March.  This isn't a money-grubbing thing. For each baby, we get reimbursed $10 a MONTH for diapers, and paid $14.60 a day.  Diapers are $20-30 a WEEK, and that daily stipend helps cover the rest.   
2. The babies saw birth mom for the first time in about three weeks on Monday, and MoMo was a wreck.  For three days.  Nightmares. Clingy.  Complete pain in the ass behaviorally.
3. Steph still refuses to do a chore to completion. Hell, most of the time, we can't even get her to get started.
4. My kitchen is still dirty. 
5. My laundry is still not done.

(I know I should clean more. Do chores more. But there is only so much time in the day, and energy in the bank.  I have found that I have been a happier EVERYTHING since I started writing again, so now I'm in search of ways to find a balance between what I need to keep me sane and what me children need to avoid E-coli.)

Positive Notes: 

1. Marie's new haircut looks amazing. 
2. Leighdidn't break anything this week, and has not self-mutilated that we can tell in about a month. 
3. Danae did apologize for her completely bitchy behavior.  I'm not sure if it was genuine or not, but I'll take what I can get.
4. I broke down and bought a pair of Sketcher's Shape-ups.  Jury's still out on whether I like them or not.
5. MoMo is getting better with ThankYou, but still completely refuses to say please, and throws a temper fit if you ask.  She is a strong-willed little thing. 
6. NaNa will carry on a cooing and giggling conversation with you after feeding.  It's so damn cute it makes up for all the other crap, pee and barf she dishes out. 

So there you have it. Way more about my week than you probably wanted to know.  Admit it, you Peeping Tom you, you LIKED it!