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!

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. 

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.

Puttin' your money where your mouth is.

I did it.

I wrote a check for $400 for a deposit on an apartment for Dawn and Dumbass Boyfriend.  I hope and pray that it is money well spent. 

I told them both after I'd handed the money over not to make me regret it.  They both promised everything was going to be fine. 

I wish I was that sure.

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!

Unconditionally Conditional Love

There are different kinds of love, and most of us endeavor to love deeply and healthily. We know that we are supposed to love without conditions, but I am here to admit that for most of us, unconditional love is an idyll, a myth we strive to attain, but often fall very short of. It is more a question that a condition. 

We claim, while in love, that it is unconditional, that there are no rules, nothing that will ruin or end the love we feel for the other person. Here, though, I’m not just talking about romantic love. For me, love is pretty much the same—you show it differently to different people, but it’s all about wanting what is best for the other person, and doing what we can to help them achieve their goals. Love isn’t feeling. It’s action.

But what if the person we are attempting to love thwarts us at every turn? Purposely makes it a daily, often minute-to-minute challenge? Frequently throws out challenges and tests to see how serious you are, how tenacious you can be with your emotional integrity? Or even does things to hurt you—intentionally—to see how elastic the sides of your metaphorical heart actually are?

This is the walk of the adoptive parent. At least the adoptive parent who has adopted older, what the industry calls “special needs,” kids. I have four adopted children and two foster children. (And just a note about that moniker: I only refer to them as adopted children here to separate them from the two fosterlings. In conversations, I just tell people I have four kids of my own, and two foster.) My adopted children all have done, and continue to do things, to push us away, to test the boundaries of our love and commitment to them.

Today, though, I want to talk about Dawn. We adopted Dawn when she was 12, after abuse from her birth mom, and a disrupted adoption due to more abuse. Clearly, we knew she was going to have issues. When we adopted her, the running joke was that I finally had a daughter because Leigh was so clearly a daddy’s girl. Dawn was outgoing and social while Steph is happy to bury her head at home with video games and books.

So when, at 16, Dawn overdosed at school, plead down the ensuing charges to a single felony and misdemeanor, dropped out of “alternative school” and then ran away with a complete loser, I took it harder than Hubby. When she eventually returned home, after a week in jail and stricter probation, things got better. Superficially, anyway. However, after months of swearing that she wanted to go back and finish school and that she was going to be patient and get prepared to be independent, the day she got off probation, she was gone again. In our state munchkins can leave at 17, but cannot be kicked out.

We didn’t hear from her for about a month, and at my last count, she and Dumbass Boyfriend have moved about 11 times since the end of January. When she finally talked to me, I told her that I loved her no matter what, and that if she wanted my help, all she needed to do was ask for it.

Last night, she asked. Someone dropped her off and she surfed my couch for the night. I don’t expect her to be here long, though. She told me this morning (I’m home sick today), that if I loved her, I’d let Dumbass Boyfriend and her shack up in a tent in the backyard until they saved up enough money to get an apartment of their own.

Because she loves him. And she doesn’t want to miss a minute of being with him because when he likely goes to prison sometime in the next six months for up to twenty years, she doesn’t know what she’ll do without him. Because if we really loved her we’d understand that she really loved him and we’d let them be together.

So now, my unconditional love, in the eyes of my 18 year old daughter, has conditions. That condition being that she be allowed to live in a tent in the backyard.

I know in her adolescent brain, she doesn’t see the complete lack of logic, good sense and maturity that makes her parents say, “No, you and your felonious Dumbass Boyfriend are not moving in together in our home with our other children.” (My actual words to her were much nicer than that, but you get the idea…)

I know she is attempting, through her tears, allergy-reddened nose and clearly sleep-deprived face, to manipulate us. After all, we did promise to help her out in her bid for independence. I guess maybe we should have defined, in writing and in triplicate forms, exactly what that help entails. But hindsight is always better than foresight, and if I am honest with myself, I’ve always known she was hard-headed and destined to only learn things the hard way. And, again with the honesty, I’m not even sure what help I am willing and able to provide.

But how do I explain to her that my love for her is unchanged? That my last thoughts each night are still of her, and that my first in the morning are of her, and that I check the county’s arrest website and the local newspaper each morning at work so that I can see if she’s still alive?

Does the fact that my help for her has conditions means that my love does too?  We have occasionally bought her groceries and medicine. I bought her some pants to wear to work. If she’s around, I’ll indulge her passion for Sonic’s cherry-grape slushes. But I’ve only seen her four times since she left at the beginning of January.

Hubby's and my parents have helped us a lot along the way, and I’m sure in that time, neither side thought their child’s mate was good enough. But still they helped. Granted, we stayed at home until we could support ourselves, and have not boomeranged. Nor have we asked to set up bum camp in the back yard.

Does our unwillingness to let him stay here mean that we have conditions on our love for her?  I don't think so, but how can I convince her of that?  How does one separate the love from the conditions by which we live our lives? How do you stand up for your beliefs and values, while attempting to convince your daughter that the kind of people she's hanging out with are not the kind of people to build a life with?

If I loved unconditionally would I allow Dumbass Boyfriend to stay here until they could get a place of their own? If I loved unconditionally would I pay for the first months’ rent on a cheap apartment and tell them they were responsible for the rest? (If for no other reason than to simply end the discussion?)

Or is it because I love unconditionally that I won’t let him stay in home, for fear of what it will teach my other children, or for fear of what he might bring into our home? What are the conditions of love? Of parenting?

And why the hell didn't anyone warn me about all this before I became a parent? 

Nevermind. They did. I just didn't listen.