Questions, Questions

I have lots of them today. Bear with me. Answer them if you can.  Offer humor if you can. 

1.  Am I unreasonable to expect my almost 16 year-old daughter to be responsible for her own laundry?  And to not let her go out in public with me if she is not clean and appropriately dressed?  This is Leigh we're talking about--  my RAD/OCD/PTSD/Depression/BPD child, who consistently has to be sprayed down before we go somewhere because she smells bad. 

2. Am I unreasonable to NOT allow my almost 17 year-old daughter share a bed behind closed doors with her girlfriend. (She's gay, so this is not a "just a friend," this a "we're dating" girlfriend.)  I'm opposed to any sort of spend-the-nights since they are in HS and I don't care if you're straight or gay, it is not appropriate to spend the night with the person you're dating.  My friend Katie, a lesbian, agrees with me, but she says she's so conservative she beats herself up in the parkinglot. 

3.  Am I unreasonable to expect my teenagers to complete basic housekeeping chores for the good of the family, even if they didn't personally make the mess in question?  My theory is that you ate the damn food that I worked to pay for AND cooked, you can clean up the kitchen. 

4.  And along those lines, if I ask you to do something, and you don't do it or half-ass it, I reserve the right to tell you no to something you want done, just on the backscratching principle.  Right?

5.  Is it wrong that we're still waffling about adopting the babies?  Is that a sign we shouldn't?  Or a sign that for the first time in our adult lives, we're looking at something long and hard before jumping in?

6.  Since Leigh has been off her meds, I have done a lot of thinking. Is it wrong that I plan to bully her into a birth control implant that she can't remove without pain and difficulty?  Is it wrong that I am starting to fantasize about spiking her food with Prozac?

7.  And am I wrong to be FURIOUS and HURT that bio-grandma called Danae's phone?  This is a violation of our agreement to move at our speed on bio-grandma's part; and for Danae, a violation of the promise she made to NOT give her cell number to her bio-family. 


That's all for now.  Thanks.

Conundrama--Puzzles and Problems

So I thought I did something that would be totally mom-amazing.  I scraped together enough cash to rent a beach house for a week near where my brother and best friend live.  On the beach.  Pool right by our building.  Two bathrooms. Did I mention that it's on the beach?  And near my brother who I see about once a year??

Yay me, right? 

Not so much.

Danae announced, "Well if it means that I'll miss PRIDE, I'm not going." 

PRIDE, for those of you who don't know, is a day long festival for the GLBT community.  There are booths, and food, and shows, and lots of gay people running amok and generally enjoying themselves.  And for those of you new to my world, Danae was bullied into coming out came out recently. 

I get that PRIDE is important.  Believe me, I do.  But I'm having a hard time reconciling that with the whole "I don't know these people, why are you making me spend time with them?" Which is what she said when she realized that I was serious about making her come with the family to visit my mom for two weeks. 

What's funny is that PRIDE isn't until the fall...  way past our beach trip.  And she's still arguing because she doesn't want to go. Unless we let her girlfriend come with us, which I told her a while back, before I set the date, that I was considering.

Am I wrong to try to force her into getting to know my family?  Am I wrong to just say "this is how we do it in our family" and expect her to shut up and cope with it?  Or do I just resign myself to being another stop on the tour? 

Condundrums and drama. It's what we're good at. 

Any ideas? Thoughts? Anything to make me feel better about this whole thing called older child adoption??

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!

Did I Lie?

So when Danae told me she was gay, I told her I didn't care and that I would be just fine walking through the mall with her and her girlfriend hold hands. 

That happened today.  And if I am honest with myself, I was uncomfortable. And I don't know why.

I really don't care if she's gay. And I really don't care if the whole world knows.  But when I saw that they were holding hands, I did a double take. Now why did I do that?

And when we ran into one of my coworkers, I turned to introduce Danae and Annette, and they had disappeared. I asked her about it later, and she said she didn't want it to be an issue for me at work.  I told her that I didn't care. No one I work with is perfect or has perfect lives.  If they think less of me or my family because one (or more) of my kids are gay, they can get right the hell over it and kiss my large pale butt in the process. 

But why was I uncomfortable?  I am really bothered by this. 

Guh.  What the heck?

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!

Congratulations, It's a Lesbian!

I guess the title pretty much says it all. 

I just got home from a two-and-a-half-hour-heart-to-heart-drive-and-talk with Danae, in which we have arrived at these facts and ideas:

1. Yes, she is gay, even though she hates that label.
2. The word "butch" is no longer socially acceptable....  it's either stud, fem or stem. I asked where she fell in that, and she smiled and said, "Oh, I'm definitely a fem." (Does anyone else see the irony in that?)
3. She was scared to tell us--trust issues, acceptance, going-to-hell speeches, dating issues, etc. Basically-- "Oh my GodAllahBuddha, what will happen now?" fears.
4. For hubby and me, her sexuality is a non-issue.  It's all about appropriateness, no matter whose team she bats for. 
5. It is not appropriate to share a locked bedroom with your sweetie. 
6. This will require a new level of honesty for her, with us as her parents.  Is this new person a friend, or a "friend?" She agreed that it would be difficult, but she understood, and agreed to try. 
7. Sex for people who have been sexually abused is a much bigger deal than it is for people who haven't. 
8. Given that she is navigating both issues, our biggest concern isn't that she's gay, or possibly becoming sexually active, it's that she navigates those issues with a clear head and someone she can depend on to talk to about her fears and feelings. 
9. The idea of flashbacks scares her. A lot.  It scares me too.  I don't want her to be in the middle of one of the many intense firsts that comes with burgeoning sexuality and have a flashback. 

So, the mayhem of my Sunday slip 'o the tongue has been resolved, at least as much as it can be--  navigating teen sxuality is like hiring a tap dancer to check a minefield.  Completely dangerous, probably a little stupid, but someone has to do it.  We just have to do it a little differently now-- which is fine by us. 

I think other people must be totally and completely bored with their lives. Trust me, we're not! 

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