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.

The Seven Things I Didn't See Coming... Last Week

So, instead of a wrap-up, I'm just going to start looking at the things that surprised me, the things that were unexpected. 

So here are my seven from the week of August 8.



1. I went to a drag show with my oldest daughter, Marie. I gave a drag queen money, which he/she took from my teeth with her (his?) tongue. No touching. And, as an unexpected bonus, I was sober.

2. Then, we went to a dance club. At 1:30AM. I have not danced, in a bar, around other people, since 1995. Again, I was sober. However, the man who kept grinding on my backside and elbowing everyone around us was not.

3. Leigh decided to take herself off her meds. She did okay for the first week, but this week, back at home, she’s not doing so well.  (You can loosely translate that as we want to kill her, but haven't found a way to get away with it yet.)

4. I found out that Leigh is having sex. Again. But with whom I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know. With her off meds, she is not taking pills daily, which means being on the pill is no longer the best, easiest option to keep her un-impregnated.

5. The philosophical dilemmas I’m having with #4 are many. First, Leigh is 15. Sex at 15 is a bad idea no matter what, and we’ve been battling sex issues with her since she moved in with us when she was six. Second, if she gets pregnant, there are obviously many other big, big issues. Like the fact that I don’t believe in abortion, and that mental illness runs deep in her bio-family. And she is completely incapable of caring for a child. She can’t remember to put on pajamas. I shudder to think how a child left to her care would survive. And I don’t want to raise another baby, but I feel very strongly about keeping families together. Borrowing trouble? Maybe. But I’d rather prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

6. One week left until I go back to work. Ugh. Summer vacation is great. Ending it is not.

7. I haven’t heard from Dawn in two weeks. She made the mistake of asking me to be honest with her, and then not liking the answer. She’s also ignoring everyone else, which only makes me feel marginally better.

That's it.

Next week comes with more court, more caseworkers, more therapy, and my last week of summer. 

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.

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!!

I Hate Myself for Loving You

Have you heard the old Joan Jett song, “I Hate Myself for Loving You?”

Here are the lyrics. (I’m not sure how copyright works here, but Joan rocked the hell out of this song in the 80s, and I had absolutely nothing to do with it!)

Midnight, gettin' uptight. Where are you?
You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two
I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you.

Hey, Jack, It's a fact they're talkin' in town.
I turn my back and you're messin' around.
I'm not really jealous, don't like lookin' like a clown.
I think of you ev'ry night and day.
You took my heart, then you took my pride away.

I hate myself for loving you .
Can't break free from the things that you do.
I wanna walk but I run back to you, that's why
I hate myself for loving you.

Daylight, spent the night without you.
But I've been dreamin' 'bout the lovin' you do.
I won't be as angry 'bout the hell you put me through.
Hey, man, bet you can treat me right.
You just don't know what you was missin' last night.
I wanna see your face and say forget it just from spite.

I hate myself for loving you .
Can't break free from the things that you do.
I wanna walk but I run back to you, that's why
I hate myself for loving you.
I hate myself for loving you.
Can't break free from the things that you do.
I wanna walk but I run back to you, that's why.

I hate myself for loving you ....

Anyway, I learned something about myself tonight—I don’t live up to my own expectations. It both pissed me off and made me cry. Well, I cry angry or sad, so I guess the tears were irrelevant.

The narrative: Dawn was supposed to be staying with us until June 1 when she moves into the apartment that Hubby and I paid the deposit on. She’s been home two nights since moving her belongings onto my carport and into my living room. She was supposed to be home Sunday from babysitting, and go job hunting with Hubby on Monday. I texted her five times Sunday, as plans for the week sort of hinged on her being around. (Why I have yet to learn this lesson, I don’t know.)

Today, we were supposed to be having a family dinner-- all six daughters, grilled food, fresh veggies, fun times, right? Wrong-O! She has decided to stay with the man she’s babysitting for because he’ll let Dumbass Boyfriend live there too. And DB does not want to spend time with us because it makes him uncomfortable because he knows we don’t like him. (And with his resume, who wouldn’t adore him, right?)

The pork chops are coming off the grill when Dawn texts me that they’ll be at my house in five minutes to get more of her clothes and her phone charger. I ask if she’s staying for dinner, and she says no, she already ate. Now I’m mad.

They arrive as we’re sitting down to eat, and DB stays in the car, Dawn comes in to get her charger. She hugs everyone, and makes some fast small talk, and then Marie dares to ask her what the plan is. Dawn bites Marie’s head off when Marie asked her about how long she’s planning to stay where she is, and how she’s going to job hunt while stuck babysitting for $100 a week. She stomped out and slammed the door.

Now I’m pissed. You don’t want to be my kid? Fine. You don’t want to eat my food? Thanks. More for me. You want to come in MY house, during MY dinner, yell at someone who WANTS to be my kid, and slam the door we’ve repaired ad infinitum thanks to your slamming, and expect me to be okay with it? Um, no.

So I drop my plate and go outside all prepared to let her have it, and


nothing. All I can manage is a half-hearted “Really?”

She responded, “Yeah mom. Really. I’m tired of everybody pissing me off.”

She got in the borrowed car and off they went.

Why is it that I can unleash my unholy Mediterranean temper on measly crap like chores being half-assed, or someone leaving icky stuff on the bathroom floor, or students who are rude in the hall, but when someone’s behavior REALLY desperately deserves to have my inner Sicilian come out, I don’t?

Dawn deserved to hear what I was thinking and feeling and it would have felt A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. to let it out at the top of my very capable leftover-cheerleader lungs. But I didn’t. I watched her drive away.

I expect and demand emotional honesty from my children. From my students. From my husband. I don’t let them hide behind excuses and past life experiences. So why is it that when I find myself in the heat of a moment, that I am incapable of the very thing I value and push so hard?

Is it wimpiness? Fear? Performance anxiety? Base hypocrisy?

Whatever it is, it’s driving me batshit tonight. Or maybe it’s this other issue distracting me, with another daughter.

If stress shortens your lifespan, I think I might be scheduled for next week.

Weekly Wrap-up, May 1

Funniest Thing I didn’t Say:  Our anniversary ended up being a family bowling night, and trust me, we all suck.  We had fun though, and me especially, thanks to the internal gigglefest I had over a statement made by one of my daughters:

     Danae, actually said: I can’t even bowl straight!

     Me, said in my mind: That’s because you aren’t! (I snooped in her phone and found out that her “best friend” is actually her girlfriend. I don’t care, except for the fact that she’s been spending the night a lot, behind closed doors in the same bed. Straight or gay, I don’t think sharing a bed with your HS sweetie is appropriate.)

She doesn’t know we know. That’ll be a fun conversation. I've actually thought about buying her a rainbow beach towel and leaving it on her bed with a note that says, "I know, and I still love you" and putting the ball in her court.

Funniest Thing I Wish My Husband Would Have Said: (After I told him of my internal funny moment above...)“I know she doesn’t have much experience playing with balls, but you’d think she’d at least be able to put her finger in a hole.”

Best MoMo Moment:
     Me: Say please!
     Her: Peez!
      FINALLY!! I thought we’d never get her to say please!!

Cutest Child Moment: We got home from work, and I put MoMo down. She immediately trotted across the living room, grabbed a bottle of lotion, held it out to me and said, “Peez!” (She loves lotion. After bath time, she loves to clap her hands in it and help me lotion her.)

Then she put it down, clapped her hands and said, “Yay!!!!!” I love it when she applauds herself.  She does it at least once a day, and it never gets old.

Since then, she’s been saying it very regularly, having FINALLY learned that she generally gets what she wants, if we can figure out what it is, when she says “Peez!”

Most Heartbreaking “What if?” Moment That Popped Into My Head And Made Me Cry A Little:   What if the babies’ mama gets them back, and they one day walk into my classroom and don’t remember me?

Best new gadget: When we got our first tax check, my husband bought himself an IPod Touch. So when we got The Big One, I decided I was going to buy myself a video camera. Partially for the babies and teenagers, partially for my classroom, and partially because I want to participate in MeanGirlGarage’s odd video contests. So I bought a Flip Ultra HD digital video camera. I love it!! Amazing!! When I figure out how to post a video, I’ll put a cutie up of my two foster babies. (Can you tell that this week I learned how to link stuff in my blog?)

Best Saturday in a Long Time: I took all but one of the girls shopping yesterday. Having recently gotten a hellacious tax check, I wanted to buy them some clothes, and generally just spend some no-pressure time with them. We spent way too much money, but had a really good time. I don’t think all those people in line behind us for a dressing room at Bell’s will ever forgive us, but they’ll get over it.

Conundrums of the Week: First, should I start graduate school next week? It’s a year-long program for an EDS degree (halfway between a Master’s and Doctorate). My financial aid is done. All I have to do is register for classes. I can take two classes at a time, and they are all online. And if I do it, I can put off starting to pay for the loans for my Master’s again. If not, I have to start repaying them in July.

Second conundrum: Should I make or buy a Mother’s Day card for my foster babies’ mom? They are scheduled to visit their biomom on Thursday, and I thought it might be nice to give her a card, or make her one, with pics of her daughters in it. She is trying to work her case plan, and having seen her with the babies, she loves them… no doubt.

Third conundrum: To teach, or not to teach (summer school) that is the question. It’s damned hard to justify not doing it at a rate of about $45 an hour. But I do so love sleeping late, and working on my tan and reading list.

Funniest Thing That Happened to Someone Else:  My high-school-acquaintance-turned-online-friend/mentor/therapist is also navigating an interesting adoptive life.  Her experiences are chronicled on her hilarious blog, but the best (and by best I mean I wish I could have been there to record it to win money, or at least have it to go back and howl at again) that  I've heard in a long time, is this one: jesus is gross.  I laughed outloud 'til I teared up, read it to my daughters and one of their friends, and plan to share it with my husband if I get to hang out with him today. 

Stupidest Student Comment of the Week: "Man! We graduate in less than two months. I need to stop gettin high after school and finish my credit recovery class."

Moment I Could Lose my Job Over:  I have a student in my AP English Lit class who qualified for the state track meet in three events. The problem is that if she goes to the state meet, she'll miss the AP test. The AP test determinse if she is eligible to be granted college credit for the class.  AP exams are only offered once a year and are not rescheduled.  I thought a lot about my initial reaction: "WHAT? My class isn't the center of your world?  Are you KIDDING ME??"  Then I met reality. We shook hands.  Then he shook me. 

So, I told her mom that if my opinion counted for anything, she should go to the track meet--she's worked for that far harder and much longer than she ever thought about working for the AP Test, and (I didn't say this to the mom), has a better chance for success at the meet.  Here's hoping the mom likes honesty. My boss has a history of hating it.

Biggest Duh Moment: Dawn acted like herself. Why do I continually expect that she’s going to suddenly not be selfish, immature and wrapped up in Dumbass Boyfriend? To quote someone I heard a long time ago, why on earth would you buy a gorilla and expect it not to want bananas? She’s spent the last few days with a friend babysitting, and was supposed to come back this afternoon. I still hadn’t heard from her at 5:15 after texting her five times during the day. I only know she’s not planning to be here tonight because Marie called to tell me.

Something New to Worry About: Marie told me that Dumbass Boyfriend wouldn’t ALLOW Dawn to change clothes, put on make-up or brush out her hair to go run errands with Marie Friday. She wasn’t ALLOWED? What the hell kind of crazy, gonna-turn-out-to-be-a-psycho shit is that? Marie asked Dawn about that later, and Dawn says he’s just worried she’s going to cheat on him or find someone better. Duh. Just almost anyone would be better than him.

Random Thing That Pissed me Off: I saw a commercial today for multivitamins—one for teen girls and one for teen guys. The commercial pointed out that guys and girls have different needs—girls want clear skin and boys want good muscle development. Really.

So when I was a cheerleader and was trying to get my jumps better, I was really only worried about having clear skin, and not my aching shoulder and calf muscles? And the guy I dated who had such bad skin that he wore more make up than my cheerleading squad combined was actually more interested in trying to get buff.

Yeah. That makes total sense.

I Was Totally Shocked When Leigh came out of her room in clean (albeit brand new clothes) with makeup on, and her hair done. She looked great! And didn’t smell!

Happiest Blog Moment:  I have seven followers!  Yay!!  Someone out there might *actually* be reading this silliness! We should totally have a party when I hit double digits!

Coming up this week: Well, the issues presented in the first two parts of this weekly wrap up have been keeping Hubby and me hopping and my text inbox full this evening. I’m sure I’ll be writing more about that this week, after some of the debris has settled and the National Whatever Board comes to finish the investigation into whether or not parents should back their kids into corners to discuss their sexuality.

I’m sure there will be more horrible poo and people being themselves, but the weather looks promising, and I don’t have to do progress reports until next week. Which means I still have a little bit of time to catch up on grading.

Yay. 

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!