I'm currently enjoying some much needed coffee out of my fabulous new mug. How did I get this mug? Well, Big decided a couple Saturday mornings ago that I needed flowers (smart boy!) and he would not budge on the issue so he and Chad went to the flower shop and got me an arrangement in a yellow coffee mug with a big smiley face on it. Why this particular arrangement? Because Big knows that I like coffee and he thought the smiley face would make me happy every time I drank from it. In fact, just now, as I was sitting down with my mug to type this, he asked me if I was happy yet from the mug. I'm not sure if he's trying to imply that I'm generally a crab....but I'll take it that he was being sweet :) Although, I wouldn't be all that shocked if he was accusing me of crabiness because I have been quite the grouch lately. We're getting ever closer to an ultimate decision being made in the case, and with it comes insane amounts of stress and craziness that could make even a Stepford wife crack! Want a taste of the crazy life? Here was my week last week:
Monday through Friday I was directing MAX Camp at my Church building. I was thinking we wouldn't have very many kids for some crazy reason, but we ended up with about ninety. Sheesh! Talk about awesome!
Monday I got a phone call from the agency while I was supposed to be registering kids for camp and it was our caseworker calling to say that Big's therapy was canceled for the day and also that his grandma was requesting a visit and both the grandma and his dad thought it would be best if she could have a separate visit. Could we do Thursday at five? Sure! Then came another call from Little's therapist (have I mentioned he's in therapy now? It alternates between our house and a playroom at St. V's.) She was stuck working at a golf outing and couldn't make it. Could she do Thursday at five, I asked? Sure! (I'm no dummy!)
Tuesday I got a call from our caseworker while I was supposed to be registering kids again and this time it was to tell me that the visit for the kids that day was canceled for some really lame and old reason. Whatever.
Wednesday Big got feisty at lunch because his dad told him at his visit on Monday that he would be seeing his grandma this week and he was convinced it was going to be that day and I had to tell him that it was going to be tomorrow. However, it explained the mystery of the "special visit" he kept alluding to. I got a call from my caseworker while I was in the waiting room of the eye doctor telling me that she wasn't sure if grandma knew of the visit the next day and we might need to reschedule. We talked about how Big already knew of the visit and I learned his dad had mentioned this to him before the visit was even approved. Good intentions and all, right?
Thursday I got a call from the caseworker saying that grandma couldn't meet that night. Seriously? She wants to meet during the day on Friday. Nope...I'm running a camp...I'm a little busy. Can we do Friday at three? Sure. Then I had a minor meltdown about how now I had to take Little up there that evening and then Big the next day--anNOYing!!! But then Little's therapist called and said we needed to reschedule (again). Could she do tomorrow at three? She could. YES!!!!
Thursday evening I got a call from the caseworker and from the tone in her voice, I just knew it. The grandma had showed up anyway. Furreal. I had just finished making dinner and Chad was dishing it up and so I offered to run Big up there right then for the visit but grandma was already gone because she could only stay until six. But wait, there's more. Grandma also can't meet at three the next day. She even called someone while at the agency to see if she could make it work, but she couldn't. She could only meet from noon til one. My camp went until 12:30. sigh. Our only other option is to reschedule for next week. But I had already told Big on Wednesday that his visit would be Thursday and then told him that afternoon that it would be Friday and had to survive yet another freak out so there was no way in the world I was making him wait any longer. So we settled for Friday at noon. Which meant I had to leave camp early on the last day. And then I'd have to have Little up there at three still. Which meant I made a horrible crying phone call to my friend Mary who is also the Children's Minister, to explain everything. And then another desperate call to Little's therapist's voicemail to beg for a noon appointment. And then Chad took one look at me and told me to go do whatever I wanted so I made one more phone call to my sister to beg sanctuary at her house for a bit, which I did. Ahh.
This story has a somewhat happy ending though. Friday morning, Little's therapist called and granted the noon appointment. Chad got out of work about ten and came up to camp and picked up the boys and took them to their appointments for me. I got to stay at camp. And when I walked in that morning, there was a lovely arrangment of flowers from my beloved Tiffany in D.C. Phew! Isn't that a wonderful ending? It's like, craziness, craziness, craziness...God's grace....just when you need it.
That week totally affirmed two rules of mine though: 1. Answer the phone whenever the agency calls. They only ever call with something important that I need to hear. This is why they have a special ringer on my phone and everything. It would be so much easier to let their calls go to voicemail when I'm busy, but they're so busy, I could call them right back and they would probably be away from their desk already and then you're just playing phone tag. I hate phone tag.
2. Never tell the kids about a visit until you're already on your way there and you know the person is coming. This pretty much goes for any visit, but especially the 'special' visits. This whole week would have been easier if Big's dad hadn't tried to be helpful and tell him about the grandma visit because I could've just rescheduled it until this week and he would have been none the wiser. Instead, I had to tell him twice that he had to wait another day and he didn't take it very well. This isn't the first time that something like this has happened and so that rule has served me well. I also never tell the kids they're having a visit with their parents until it's been confirmed for the very same reason. We've had a lot of canceled visits lately and there's no point in trying to make the kids happy by telling them they have a visit only to come back in a few hours and tell them you were wrong.
Now it's Monday again and I'm just waiting for the phone to start ringing and all the craziness to start over. I'm super thankful for my husband and my family and friends who let me behave badly towards all of them while I struggle to handle all the stress. They put up with a lot from me and I really appreciate it :) Hopefully, in a couple of months, some things will change and I will have a lot less things to get rearranged. For now though, we'll keep chugging along. The kids are having a hard time with all of this too (can we say Big stabbed Little in the face with his fork after a particularly rancid visit? mhmm) but I'm learning better ways to help them with everything, and camp was a really good distraction for them last week. And can I just say that school starts in three weeks? Big will be in first grade this year and Little just got accepted to Head Start so he will be gone in the mornings. I know it sounds harsh, but I'm really looking forward to the space. Ha, I'll probably be happy for a week and then I'll miss them and want them back home :)
Well, that was my week. Hope you enjoyed the exclusive inside look ;) Now I'm off to wrestle with the crazy monkey children!
Monday, August 15, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
The time has come!
The day has arrived!!! Remember how I said that they warned us of kids using the bathroom outside our bedroom door?????? It's not quite the same, but Little peed AND pooped on his bedroom carpet today. On separate occasions. First poop, and then pee. And why? First he "didn't know" and then because "he felt like it." Chad thinks that he might have done it because when we're at the pool at his aunt's house, Little gets to pee in the wild by the pine trees and so maybe he's thinking that if he doesn't want to stop playing he can just pull down and go wherever he is, but I'm not convinced. I think it's a choice. He did something similar on Sunday. In fact, here's what happened in my house Sunday night after I got home from Youth Sunday School:
Chad: "Hey. Dustin's stuff is in the washer because I'm pretty sure he pulled down his pants and just peed all over his bed."
Me: "What the heck? Seriously?"
Chad: "I don't know what's going on with that kid. I swear he pooped too because it smelled like it, but I looked in his pull-up and I didn't see anything."
Me: "If it smelled like he pooped, he probably did. I'll check after I use the bathroom."
(This isn't nearly as exciting as I thought it would be...but hold on...it gets better.)
Me: (in the downstairs bathroom) "Chad...who the heck used this bathroom last? They frickin' peed all over the frickin' seat!!!"
Chad: *big ginourmous sigh* "Big"
Me: "Awesome. Because I just sat in it and that's disgusting."
And let me tell you it was alllllllll over the seat. Like he just decided to power wash the seat with his pee to see what it looked like or something. So, I go upstairs and open the door to the boys' room and I am instantly hit with this wall of poop smell. It reminded me of this time I got a cat from a cat rescue place and my sister and I were driving it home and hit a similar wall of smell from the cat pooping in its cage and we were literally idling down the road because we were laughing so hard because it smelled so bad. It was a similar wall of poop smell that I walked into, but somehow, this time, I didn't see it as being so funny. So I turned on the light and there, under Little's bed, is a giant turd. The child had pooped in his pull-up and decided to just reach in and pull out his poop so that he wouldn't have to be bothered with the uncomfortableness of it while he slept. So I grabbed some toilet paper for him to pick it up with, but he just picked it up with is BARE HANDS and put it in the toilet. Barf, gag, grossness!!!! He did the same thing today with the poop on the floor! Why is he doing this?! He told me earlier his belly hurt, and I asked him if he had to go poop and to go and try and instead of going and trying, he just decided to keep playing and poop and let it drop out of his pants as it may. And then tonight while I was at a camp meeting, he peed all over the carpet in his room. This is making me crazy. And their room stinks.
Chad: "Hey. Dustin's stuff is in the washer because I'm pretty sure he pulled down his pants and just peed all over his bed."
Me: "What the heck? Seriously?"
Chad: "I don't know what's going on with that kid. I swear he pooped too because it smelled like it, but I looked in his pull-up and I didn't see anything."
Me: "If it smelled like he pooped, he probably did. I'll check after I use the bathroom."
(This isn't nearly as exciting as I thought it would be...but hold on...it gets better.)
Me: (in the downstairs bathroom) "Chad...who the heck used this bathroom last? They frickin' peed all over the frickin' seat!!!"
Chad: *big ginourmous sigh* "Big"
Me: "Awesome. Because I just sat in it and that's disgusting."
And let me tell you it was alllllllll over the seat. Like he just decided to power wash the seat with his pee to see what it looked like or something. So, I go upstairs and open the door to the boys' room and I am instantly hit with this wall of poop smell. It reminded me of this time I got a cat from a cat rescue place and my sister and I were driving it home and hit a similar wall of smell from the cat pooping in its cage and we were literally idling down the road because we were laughing so hard because it smelled so bad. It was a similar wall of poop smell that I walked into, but somehow, this time, I didn't see it as being so funny. So I turned on the light and there, under Little's bed, is a giant turd. The child had pooped in his pull-up and decided to just reach in and pull out his poop so that he wouldn't have to be bothered with the uncomfortableness of it while he slept. So I grabbed some toilet paper for him to pick it up with, but he just picked it up with is BARE HANDS and put it in the toilet. Barf, gag, grossness!!!! He did the same thing today with the poop on the floor! Why is he doing this?! He told me earlier his belly hurt, and I asked him if he had to go poop and to go and try and instead of going and trying, he just decided to keep playing and poop and let it drop out of his pants as it may. And then tonight while I was at a camp meeting, he peed all over the carpet in his room. This is making me crazy. And their room stinks.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Glub Glub
I fed my kids Chef Boyardee and pudding for lunch. The 'Mother of the Year' award should be arriving at my door any moment...
There are days where I feel like I live in a fish tank. And not just because I write a blog and post it up on facebook for everyone to read ;) There are just a lot of people involved in my life and they all want to know everything that's going on. Caseworkers, therapists (for the kids...although, frankly, I could use one too some days), licensing agents, and a lawyer for the kids...they're all involved and they're all asking questions. How are the kids doing? What are they like before and after visits? When was the last time Chad and I went out? Do we have enough help? Can we schedule a home visit? Can you change the day of this appointment? How did you handle this situation? And then what happened? And then what did you say to that?
Now, they do more than just ask quesions. They listen to me when I am frustrated and they encourage me and thank me like crazy. And I love that they're so interested in my personal life, like making sure Chad and I go out on dates and encouraging me to send the kids off to other people for afternoons and stuff, but it's quite a bit of information to be handing out all the time. A couple of weeks ago, I had to talk to three different people about the fact that Big has been peeing his pants during visits with his dad. He's not nervous or anything, he just doesn't want to stop playing to use the bathroom so he holds it until he can't anymore. And he's also in the habit of telling me he doesn't have to use the bathroom when I ask him to go. **Side note: This is totally "normal" behavior for foster kids. When Chad and I were going through our training, they kept telling us to be prepared for kids who would poop outside our bedroom door. No joke. Crap in my hallway when I wake up--this is what I had to look forward to. This is because the kids feel so out of control and like they have no say in anything going on in their lives, which is true, and so they try and control what they can. Some kids develop eating disorders. And some kids control their bladder and just let it all go when and where they want to. Now, I have never woken up to poop in the hall. However, the other day, Chad got Little up from a nap and discovered that Little had pooped his pants and tried to hide the turd-filled undies under his bed. And this morning, I was literally standing on his poopy pull-up from last night that he had taken off and laid in the middle of his bedroom floor because it was making him uncomfortable. Do those count? Big has peed all over my bathroom a couple of times out of anger...that was interesting...thankfully the bath mats sopped up most of it. Anyway, I'm not surprised Big is refusing to go to the bathroom when I tell him to. With how crazy everything has been lately, he needs to feel in charge of something. He did the same thing when we first got him a year ago, except then he would fly into a huge rage. Never knew the urge to pee could get so interesting, did you?** That was a very long side note. Okay, so I had to tell three people about the peeing in the pants stuff. What a way to spend a Monday afternoon. We all came to the same conclusion that the child needs to stay indoors for awhile and avoid the playground until he can control his bladder. It did not go over well...with Big or with his dad...but what can you do? If you're going to let a kid keep on playing outside for an HOUR after he pees his pants on a semi-public playground where there are a bunch of little kidlets also playing..well, you get what you get.
Seriously, enough of the pee talk. Life around here has gotten pretty feisty again. The stress of not seeing their mom has made the boys get a little wild. Big is starting to have some big ole freakouts that give me flashbacks of all of last summer. I think my head will explode if I have to go through another summer of all that jazz. And Little is starting to follow in his brother's footsteps. The poor lil guy can hardly relax. Last night, he was yelling at Chad that we were keeping him from seeing his mom. He's only three! Sheesh! It's wild...and it's sad. Chad handled it all really well but you could tell it bothered him to hear Little say that. It's hard sometimes to hear the kids say the stuff that they do. You'd like to think that because you know the majortity of it comes from stress and anxiety, the words will just roll off your back and won't bother you. Like you'll be able to just let them vent and not take any of the insults in because you know they're hurting and they just need to get it all out and they don't really mean it all...but that's not the case. It hurts. If a kid tells you enough times to 'shut up' or that they 'don't care' or they call you 'stupid,' it's going to make you feel pretty crappy. *sigh* Ice cream helps though :) At least there's ice cream.
Seriously though, we love our kids. I know I whine and complain about stuff, but we wouldn't trade them in for everything. I wish certain things would be different, but in the end, I'd rather have all this craziness than no kids at all. And there are definitely enough good moments to balance out the bad. Princess is now telling us she loves us and can do so many more things on her own. Little calls everything 'beautiful' now. Yesterday, he came running into the living room to show me the picture he'd just colored, yelling 'it's beautiful...it's beautiful!' It was so cute :) And Big is all about helping these days. He is the most proud child in the world because he can get ice water for all the kids. All he needs is a stool and our fridge and he's set. It is imPRESSive!
That's all I have time to share today...the minions will be getting up soon and then we're off on some fabulous errand running. We know how to really whoop it up, don't we?
There are days where I feel like I live in a fish tank. And not just because I write a blog and post it up on facebook for everyone to read ;) There are just a lot of people involved in my life and they all want to know everything that's going on. Caseworkers, therapists (for the kids...although, frankly, I could use one too some days), licensing agents, and a lawyer for the kids...they're all involved and they're all asking questions. How are the kids doing? What are they like before and after visits? When was the last time Chad and I went out? Do we have enough help? Can we schedule a home visit? Can you change the day of this appointment? How did you handle this situation? And then what happened? And then what did you say to that?
Now, they do more than just ask quesions. They listen to me when I am frustrated and they encourage me and thank me like crazy. And I love that they're so interested in my personal life, like making sure Chad and I go out on dates and encouraging me to send the kids off to other people for afternoons and stuff, but it's quite a bit of information to be handing out all the time. A couple of weeks ago, I had to talk to three different people about the fact that Big has been peeing his pants during visits with his dad. He's not nervous or anything, he just doesn't want to stop playing to use the bathroom so he holds it until he can't anymore. And he's also in the habit of telling me he doesn't have to use the bathroom when I ask him to go. **Side note: This is totally "normal" behavior for foster kids. When Chad and I were going through our training, they kept telling us to be prepared for kids who would poop outside our bedroom door. No joke. Crap in my hallway when I wake up--this is what I had to look forward to. This is because the kids feel so out of control and like they have no say in anything going on in their lives, which is true, and so they try and control what they can. Some kids develop eating disorders. And some kids control their bladder and just let it all go when and where they want to. Now, I have never woken up to poop in the hall. However, the other day, Chad got Little up from a nap and discovered that Little had pooped his pants and tried to hide the turd-filled undies under his bed. And this morning, I was literally standing on his poopy pull-up from last night that he had taken off and laid in the middle of his bedroom floor because it was making him uncomfortable. Do those count? Big has peed all over my bathroom a couple of times out of anger...that was interesting...thankfully the bath mats sopped up most of it. Anyway, I'm not surprised Big is refusing to go to the bathroom when I tell him to. With how crazy everything has been lately, he needs to feel in charge of something. He did the same thing when we first got him a year ago, except then he would fly into a huge rage. Never knew the urge to pee could get so interesting, did you?** That was a very long side note. Okay, so I had to tell three people about the peeing in the pants stuff. What a way to spend a Monday afternoon. We all came to the same conclusion that the child needs to stay indoors for awhile and avoid the playground until he can control his bladder. It did not go over well...with Big or with his dad...but what can you do? If you're going to let a kid keep on playing outside for an HOUR after he pees his pants on a semi-public playground where there are a bunch of little kidlets also playing..well, you get what you get.
Seriously, enough of the pee talk. Life around here has gotten pretty feisty again. The stress of not seeing their mom has made the boys get a little wild. Big is starting to have some big ole freakouts that give me flashbacks of all of last summer. I think my head will explode if I have to go through another summer of all that jazz. And Little is starting to follow in his brother's footsteps. The poor lil guy can hardly relax. Last night, he was yelling at Chad that we were keeping him from seeing his mom. He's only three! Sheesh! It's wild...and it's sad. Chad handled it all really well but you could tell it bothered him to hear Little say that. It's hard sometimes to hear the kids say the stuff that they do. You'd like to think that because you know the majortity of it comes from stress and anxiety, the words will just roll off your back and won't bother you. Like you'll be able to just let them vent and not take any of the insults in because you know they're hurting and they just need to get it all out and they don't really mean it all...but that's not the case. It hurts. If a kid tells you enough times to 'shut up' or that they 'don't care' or they call you 'stupid,' it's going to make you feel pretty crappy. *sigh* Ice cream helps though :) At least there's ice cream.
Seriously though, we love our kids. I know I whine and complain about stuff, but we wouldn't trade them in for everything. I wish certain things would be different, but in the end, I'd rather have all this craziness than no kids at all. And there are definitely enough good moments to balance out the bad. Princess is now telling us she loves us and can do so many more things on her own. Little calls everything 'beautiful' now. Yesterday, he came running into the living room to show me the picture he'd just colored, yelling 'it's beautiful...it's beautiful!' It was so cute :) And Big is all about helping these days. He is the most proud child in the world because he can get ice water for all the kids. All he needs is a stool and our fridge and he's set. It is imPRESSive!
That's all I have time to share today...the minions will be getting up soon and then we're off on some fabulous errand running. We know how to really whoop it up, don't we?
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Hi, my name is...
Sometimes I wonder what people think when they see Chad and I out with the kids. If they're just looking at us, I assume most people think they're ours--I'm forever hearing about how much Little looks like Chad. But then when people are listening to us...it's gotta be confusing. I'm 'Melissa,' 'Lissa,' and 'mommy' at any given moment. Sometimes a kid will call me two of those names in the same minute. The other day, I was playing in the backyard with the kids and the boys were calling me a little bit of everything and I started to think about how it doesn't even phase me anymore.
When we first got the boys (and when we first get any kids, for that matter), we always refer to ourselves as Chad and Melissa. I'd feel weird having them call us 'mom' and 'dad' right away. However, when the kids get more comfortable with us, it's all fair game. They kind of start calling us whatever they want on their own. We had a boy one time that would call me 'mom' whenever we were out in public. It really freaked me out at first, but then I realized it was only happening when we were out, and then it started to make sense. He needed to feel 'normal' around other people. That's a little sad, dontcha think? He was five and he already knew he wasn't like everyone else.
Our kids that we have now could have given me an identity crisis. Am I mom? Am I Melissa? WHO AM IIIII???? hahahaha...that was a bit dramatic :) Honestly, I'm hardly phased by the name flip-flopping anymore. I used to think that if they called me 'mom' and then went back to 'Melissa' that they must not like me as much now. (I know that's just crazy talk, but these are honestly the things that rattle around in my head.) Now I realize that they'll call me what they like and it really just depends on how they're feeling and I need to just let them do it. The hardest part was pretending like I didn't notice the first few times they tried out the 'mommy' on me. Princess only calls us mommy and daddy and Little calls me mommy about 90% of the time but Big was very rarely calling me anything other than 'Melissa' until recently. A few weeks ago they stopped seeing their mom. Some stuff went down and the judge agreed it's in their best interest to suspend her visits for the time being. Their mom has never been thrilled with the kids calling us anything other than our 'real' names and has gotten after them in front of Chad about it. But now that they don't see her, Big is calling me mommy a lot more. Now, Chad kinda just gets called 'Chad' a lot, but his daddy quota has gone up quite a bit lately too.
The whole thing fascinates me a bit. I'd love to know if there has ever been a study done on it. I don't know what precisely it is that I'm so intrigued by, but the whole 'name game' is definitely a thing that makes me go 'hmmmmm.' And it gets even better when we go places and people know they're our foster kids. They'll say something to the kids like, 'go give that to your, um, ummm...' and then they'll turn to Chad or I and ask, 'What do they call you?' If only I knew what to tell them!
I stinkin' love our kids and I love that as we've grown closer to them, they've grown more comfortable with calling us those special names. I have long dreamt of the day when I'd have some sticky little kid call me 'mommy' and I can truly say that the thrill of the reality has far exceeded the expectation of my dreams. I cannot wait for the day when I get to make that title official :)
**For all of you who closely follow our crazy lives, we have a very important court date tomorrow. If anyone from our agency happens to question you about this (ya know, because they totally will...random), I did not tell you it's tomorrow. That, and a bunch of other stuff in this post would be too personal to share, but we do indeed have one tomorrow. It's a biggie and we love when people pray for us, so please do.**
When we first got the boys (and when we first get any kids, for that matter), we always refer to ourselves as Chad and Melissa. I'd feel weird having them call us 'mom' and 'dad' right away. However, when the kids get more comfortable with us, it's all fair game. They kind of start calling us whatever they want on their own. We had a boy one time that would call me 'mom' whenever we were out in public. It really freaked me out at first, but then I realized it was only happening when we were out, and then it started to make sense. He needed to feel 'normal' around other people. That's a little sad, dontcha think? He was five and he already knew he wasn't like everyone else.
Our kids that we have now could have given me an identity crisis. Am I mom? Am I Melissa? WHO AM IIIII???? hahahaha...that was a bit dramatic :) Honestly, I'm hardly phased by the name flip-flopping anymore. I used to think that if they called me 'mom' and then went back to 'Melissa' that they must not like me as much now. (I know that's just crazy talk, but these are honestly the things that rattle around in my head.) Now I realize that they'll call me what they like and it really just depends on how they're feeling and I need to just let them do it. The hardest part was pretending like I didn't notice the first few times they tried out the 'mommy' on me. Princess only calls us mommy and daddy and Little calls me mommy about 90% of the time but Big was very rarely calling me anything other than 'Melissa' until recently. A few weeks ago they stopped seeing their mom. Some stuff went down and the judge agreed it's in their best interest to suspend her visits for the time being. Their mom has never been thrilled with the kids calling us anything other than our 'real' names and has gotten after them in front of Chad about it. But now that they don't see her, Big is calling me mommy a lot more. Now, Chad kinda just gets called 'Chad' a lot, but his daddy quota has gone up quite a bit lately too.
The whole thing fascinates me a bit. I'd love to know if there has ever been a study done on it. I don't know what precisely it is that I'm so intrigued by, but the whole 'name game' is definitely a thing that makes me go 'hmmmmm.' And it gets even better when we go places and people know they're our foster kids. They'll say something to the kids like, 'go give that to your, um, ummm...' and then they'll turn to Chad or I and ask, 'What do they call you?' If only I knew what to tell them!
I stinkin' love our kids and I love that as we've grown closer to them, they've grown more comfortable with calling us those special names. I have long dreamt of the day when I'd have some sticky little kid call me 'mommy' and I can truly say that the thrill of the reality has far exceeded the expectation of my dreams. I cannot wait for the day when I get to make that title official :)
**For all of you who closely follow our crazy lives, we have a very important court date tomorrow. If anyone from our agency happens to question you about this (ya know, because they totally will...random), I did not tell you it's tomorrow. That, and a bunch of other stuff in this post would be too personal to share, but we do indeed have one tomorrow. It's a biggie and we love when people pray for us, so please do.**
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming...
This was last night:
Little is now three. He is also now screaming in his bed because he wants the light on. The light was turned off because he wasn't gettting into bed when he was told to. He's supposed to be in his bed while Big takes his shower. Before that, Little was yelling because he wanted pajamas on. He wasn't wearing pajamas because he announced in his indignant little voice "I NOT wear any pajamas!!" and so we let him freeze it out for a bit in just his nighttime diaper to see what it's like to sleep with no jammies. He was less than fond of it...hence the screaming. Before THAT, he was screaming that he wanted a bath because his bath had to get stopped because he kept throwing his clothes into the bathwater. Such is life. Earlier, I had to hold onto Big to keep him from kicking me because he was melting down. When Chad came home from work...Big was in the corner because he told me to shut up, Little was sitting in the kitchen because he kept trying to get at Big, and Princess was sitting on the couch watching it all. Normal people would walk into my house and think, 'what the heck is going on here?' Not Chad. It didn't even phase him.
This was this morning:
While trying to get dressed, I heard Little say 'I telling on you' and then he came running to tell me Big had smacked him in the face. Then Little wanted to goof around instead of getting dressed and so he was running around in his undies. Can I just say, that kid in his little undies is one of the cutest things you'll ever see? At breakfast, all hell broke loose. Big was just in a funk and he didn't want to talk about it and then his yogurt spilled and it turned into a 45 minute meltdown that went through two things of yogurt, his school uniform, and my patience. He got to school half an hour late, but he made it!
Currently, I'm drinking a coke and eating four cheese cheez-its while the little two are taking early naps. It's not really so surprising that the kids are acting this way. Their visit earlier this week was cut short because their parents chose to spend the time speaking with people about the upcoming court date instead of being in the room with the kids and then their visit yesterday got canceled for some very vague reason. It's especially difficult for Big. His mom has been doing pretty well with him lately and this week was a big setback for him. But that's the way life is when you do foster care. The birth parents do stuff that sends the kids into a tailspin and we, the foster parents, get to try like heck to clean up the mess so it can all happen again the next week.
And now...the school is calling me....
Little is now three. He is also now screaming in his bed because he wants the light on. The light was turned off because he wasn't gettting into bed when he was told to. He's supposed to be in his bed while Big takes his shower. Before that, Little was yelling because he wanted pajamas on. He wasn't wearing pajamas because he announced in his indignant little voice "I NOT wear any pajamas!!" and so we let him freeze it out for a bit in just his nighttime diaper to see what it's like to sleep with no jammies. He was less than fond of it...hence the screaming. Before THAT, he was screaming that he wanted a bath because his bath had to get stopped because he kept throwing his clothes into the bathwater. Such is life. Earlier, I had to hold onto Big to keep him from kicking me because he was melting down. When Chad came home from work...Big was in the corner because he told me to shut up, Little was sitting in the kitchen because he kept trying to get at Big, and Princess was sitting on the couch watching it all. Normal people would walk into my house and think, 'what the heck is going on here?' Not Chad. It didn't even phase him.
This was this morning:
While trying to get dressed, I heard Little say 'I telling on you' and then he came running to tell me Big had smacked him in the face. Then Little wanted to goof around instead of getting dressed and so he was running around in his undies. Can I just say, that kid in his little undies is one of the cutest things you'll ever see? At breakfast, all hell broke loose. Big was just in a funk and he didn't want to talk about it and then his yogurt spilled and it turned into a 45 minute meltdown that went through two things of yogurt, his school uniform, and my patience. He got to school half an hour late, but he made it!
Currently, I'm drinking a coke and eating four cheese cheez-its while the little two are taking early naps. It's not really so surprising that the kids are acting this way. Their visit earlier this week was cut short because their parents chose to spend the time speaking with people about the upcoming court date instead of being in the room with the kids and then their visit yesterday got canceled for some very vague reason. It's especially difficult for Big. His mom has been doing pretty well with him lately and this week was a big setback for him. But that's the way life is when you do foster care. The birth parents do stuff that sends the kids into a tailspin and we, the foster parents, get to try like heck to clean up the mess so it can all happen again the next week.
And now...the school is calling me....
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Sinner, not a saint.
I have been trying and TRYING to write a new blog for weeks now, and it's just not working. Everything I write doesn't come out right and it doesn't all go together so I keep deleting everything. Someone told me today to just do it already though and not worry so much about how it sounded, so here I go.
I am not a saint.
I feel like I am placed on a pedestal some days when people here that I do foster care and it drives me a little loco. Chad and I didn't get into foster care because we're super shiny people with super shiny halos who just love love love helping wounded kids and their parents. This wasn't in our "plan" for our life. This wasn't a calling that was driven by a passion of ours. It's actually the opposite. First came the call, then the passion. People are forever telling us how wonderful we are, and some even tear up when we mention that we're foster parents as if we're these amazing humanitarians or something, but it's not really the case. Newsflash: Chad and I wanted to have kids of our own. We even went so far as to try fertility treatments because we wanted kids so much, but it never worked. And foster care gives us the opportunity to have kids in our home. Real, live kids, who call us mommy and daddy and tell us they love us. And they pay us to do it. Bonus! I'm pretty sure saints don't get paid....
Before we got into all this, I used to have a really bad case of baby fever. You know what I mean--where all you can think about is having a baby, where you seriously contemplate buying a onesie you think is cute because you just know you're going to have a baby someday, and where you constantly check out the latest and greatest in strollers so that you'll be on top of your game when that magical day comes. Other symptoms include a constant urge to pee on white plastic sticks, a secret shameful jealousy of anything pregnant, and an unnatural obsession with the first day of your last menstrual cycle.
In my fever-induced hysteria, I thought the only cure was an actual baby--but I was wrong. God had a plan for us and all He needed from us was to be willing to go where He wanted us to. If I had the time, I'd tell you the whole story. It's pretty amazing to look at the whole thing--you can't deny that God was in control of it all. He gave us the call to get licensed and to open up our home to children (not just tiny babies), and over the past fifteen and a half months, He's cultivated a passion in us to help these children--to love them and to show kindness to their parents. He's broken my baby fever and continuously works to keep me from a total relapse, despite myself. Throughout all of this though, He's blessed us even more with an even stronger marriage, the ability for me to quit my job and stay home with the kids, and, if the day comes, to adopt children for basically nothing and continue to stay home with them. I often feel that I get more out of this than the kids do. We are not saints for doing foster care. We are quite possibly some of the luckiest people in the world. We were called into doing this and we answered that call with quasi-obedience (you can drag your feet, whining the whole way and still be obedient, right?) and so God has blessed us for it. Life is not always easy. We don't always get what we want. And we definitely have had our share of ups and downs recently. Hopefully I'll be able to sit down again soon and let everyone in on what the kids are up to because, my land, they've been up to a lot! For instance, I've got a kid starting meds soon, a kid who's now pretty much potty trained, and a kid who can shake her finger and say "fiiiiieeeeerce" like she means it :) Life is good :)
I am not a saint.
I feel like I am placed on a pedestal some days when people here that I do foster care and it drives me a little loco. Chad and I didn't get into foster care because we're super shiny people with super shiny halos who just love love love helping wounded kids and their parents. This wasn't in our "plan" for our life. This wasn't a calling that was driven by a passion of ours. It's actually the opposite. First came the call, then the passion. People are forever telling us how wonderful we are, and some even tear up when we mention that we're foster parents as if we're these amazing humanitarians or something, but it's not really the case. Newsflash: Chad and I wanted to have kids of our own. We even went so far as to try fertility treatments because we wanted kids so much, but it never worked. And foster care gives us the opportunity to have kids in our home. Real, live kids, who call us mommy and daddy and tell us they love us. And they pay us to do it. Bonus! I'm pretty sure saints don't get paid....
Before we got into all this, I used to have a really bad case of baby fever. You know what I mean--where all you can think about is having a baby, where you seriously contemplate buying a onesie you think is cute because you just know you're going to have a baby someday, and where you constantly check out the latest and greatest in strollers so that you'll be on top of your game when that magical day comes. Other symptoms include a constant urge to pee on white plastic sticks, a secret shameful jealousy of anything pregnant, and an unnatural obsession with the first day of your last menstrual cycle.
In my fever-induced hysteria, I thought the only cure was an actual baby--but I was wrong. God had a plan for us and all He needed from us was to be willing to go where He wanted us to. If I had the time, I'd tell you the whole story. It's pretty amazing to look at the whole thing--you can't deny that God was in control of it all. He gave us the call to get licensed and to open up our home to children (not just tiny babies), and over the past fifteen and a half months, He's cultivated a passion in us to help these children--to love them and to show kindness to their parents. He's broken my baby fever and continuously works to keep me from a total relapse, despite myself. Throughout all of this though, He's blessed us even more with an even stronger marriage, the ability for me to quit my job and stay home with the kids, and, if the day comes, to adopt children for basically nothing and continue to stay home with them. I often feel that I get more out of this than the kids do. We are not saints for doing foster care. We are quite possibly some of the luckiest people in the world. We were called into doing this and we answered that call with quasi-obedience (you can drag your feet, whining the whole way and still be obedient, right?) and so God has blessed us for it. Life is not always easy. We don't always get what we want. And we definitely have had our share of ups and downs recently. Hopefully I'll be able to sit down again soon and let everyone in on what the kids are up to because, my land, they've been up to a lot! For instance, I've got a kid starting meds soon, a kid who's now pretty much potty trained, and a kid who can shake her finger and say "fiiiiieeeeerce" like she means it :) Life is good :)
Monday, February 28, 2011
Ignorance is...
It seems like eeeevvvverybody has an opinion on foster care and for the most part, it's not good. I cannot even tell you all the times I have heard people griping about how foster parents are horrible and only in it for the money and how they don't actually care about the kids. Or all the news stories about a foster parent gone bad or kids who were in the system talking about how much their lives sucked while in foster care. Every once in a blue moon, you'll see a special guest story about a couple who've fostered a million kids over the years and sent them all to college or you'll see a story about siblings reunited and stuff like that but, for the most part, it's all bad news and horror stories. Don't get me wrong-there are definitely some things that need to be fixed. And not everyone who gets into foster care is in it for the right reasons. But the majority of people getting licensed are doing it because they love kids and they want to make a difference for them--not to make a quick buck (because, believe me, there's not really a ton of money in foster care). And honestly, who wants to read a news story titled "Foster mom almost stabbed by foster child's fork doesn't try to hit him back" or "Foster parents log 10,000 miles in six months taking kids to visits three days a week" Yawn. Both these things have happened to me and I don't even want to read about them.
The biggest problem I think people have is that they are ignorant of the system and what actually goes on in a foster home. It's so easy for people to get their undies in a bunch when they see a foster parent snap in the news or when they see kids going back to homes they really shouldn't be returning to, and trust me, I know those things shouldn't be happening either, but it's not just a little black and white world in foster care--there's a LOT of gray areas. I mean, we're talking about taking away someone's CHILD for the rest of their lives--it's going to get sticky!
Foster care is pretty much pass/fail. Sometimes kids are going to be going back to homes where the parents are pulling a solid D- in the parenting department because the law says that a D- is still passing. They'll put services galore in the home and keep as close an eye as possible and, unfortunately, that's the best they can do. They can't really pull a kid away from their family just because they think they'll have a crappy life. It's crappy, I know (believe me, I KNOW!) but until we reach full blown Big Brother status, it's just not going to happen that way.
And then there's the team of people working on the case. There are the foster parents and the GAL (a lawyer for the kids) who work solely for the kids and to protect their welfare. (I consider part of my job to help the kids maintain a good relationship with their parents though so Chad and I do what we can in that area.) Then there's a caseworker who has the incredibly difficult task of trying to serve the parents and protect the kids. It's not an easy job. Right now, our caseworker has a very gray and sticky situation where if she does her job for the kids, she might be causing a problem with the parents and if she does her job for the parents, she'll be hurting the kids. It's a tough situation, but luckily the GAL is there to help shed a little light-of-the-law on the situation so the right decision can be made. I think our GAL is currently handling over 200 cases and our caseworker can have up to 17 kids on her caseload as well. For a GAL, they have to observe the kids once every three months and keep in contact with the caseworker and then show up to court with a recommendation for a continuance or for termination. Our caseworker talks to me at least three times a week and she oversees the visits and the parents' drug screens and other services and she writes up all these super detailed reports and visits my house at least once a month-and that's just my case. She has many others as well.
We're fortunate that we have private agencies where we live and we didn't have to get licensed through Department of Human Services where the caseworkers are even more bogged down with cases and have less time to spend with you. The news stories about foster homes gone bad are usually licensed through DHS where there just isn't as much support or accountability. I love our agency. I love that the woman who licensed us will stalk me to get an update on how I'm doing and how when they sent us a recruitment check awhile back, she yelled at me because I spent it on the kids and not on a night out for Chad and I. I love that when our caseworker did her home visit last week, she asked if Chad and I were taking the time to get out together and if we had anyone who could watch the kids so we could go on dates. And I love that if I am FREAKING OUT about something that just happened, I can always get a hold of someone...even if it's after hours, because I have their cell phone numbers too. And I truly love that they all care so much about the kids that I can see them getting upset at situations right alongside us. They care SO MUCH. See, it's not all horror stories and disasters :)
People say ignorance is bliss. But I think ignorance in this case is the enemy. It breeds gossip and slander and it casts a bad light on a system that, though it has bad points, is as good as it's going to get for now. And I think if people are really so truly put off by the deplorableness of foster care, then they can pick up their phones and get licensed themselves. I'd love to see what they'd have to say then ;)
The biggest problem I think people have is that they are ignorant of the system and what actually goes on in a foster home. It's so easy for people to get their undies in a bunch when they see a foster parent snap in the news or when they see kids going back to homes they really shouldn't be returning to, and trust me, I know those things shouldn't be happening either, but it's not just a little black and white world in foster care--there's a LOT of gray areas. I mean, we're talking about taking away someone's CHILD for the rest of their lives--it's going to get sticky!
Foster care is pretty much pass/fail. Sometimes kids are going to be going back to homes where the parents are pulling a solid D- in the parenting department because the law says that a D- is still passing. They'll put services galore in the home and keep as close an eye as possible and, unfortunately, that's the best they can do. They can't really pull a kid away from their family just because they think they'll have a crappy life. It's crappy, I know (believe me, I KNOW!) but until we reach full blown Big Brother status, it's just not going to happen that way.
And then there's the team of people working on the case. There are the foster parents and the GAL (a lawyer for the kids) who work solely for the kids and to protect their welfare. (I consider part of my job to help the kids maintain a good relationship with their parents though so Chad and I do what we can in that area.) Then there's a caseworker who has the incredibly difficult task of trying to serve the parents and protect the kids. It's not an easy job. Right now, our caseworker has a very gray and sticky situation where if she does her job for the kids, she might be causing a problem with the parents and if she does her job for the parents, she'll be hurting the kids. It's a tough situation, but luckily the GAL is there to help shed a little light-of-the-law on the situation so the right decision can be made. I think our GAL is currently handling over 200 cases and our caseworker can have up to 17 kids on her caseload as well. For a GAL, they have to observe the kids once every three months and keep in contact with the caseworker and then show up to court with a recommendation for a continuance or for termination. Our caseworker talks to me at least three times a week and she oversees the visits and the parents' drug screens and other services and she writes up all these super detailed reports and visits my house at least once a month-and that's just my case. She has many others as well.
We're fortunate that we have private agencies where we live and we didn't have to get licensed through Department of Human Services where the caseworkers are even more bogged down with cases and have less time to spend with you. The news stories about foster homes gone bad are usually licensed through DHS where there just isn't as much support or accountability. I love our agency. I love that the woman who licensed us will stalk me to get an update on how I'm doing and how when they sent us a recruitment check awhile back, she yelled at me because I spent it on the kids and not on a night out for Chad and I. I love that when our caseworker did her home visit last week, she asked if Chad and I were taking the time to get out together and if we had anyone who could watch the kids so we could go on dates. And I love that if I am FREAKING OUT about something that just happened, I can always get a hold of someone...even if it's after hours, because I have their cell phone numbers too. And I truly love that they all care so much about the kids that I can see them getting upset at situations right alongside us. They care SO MUCH. See, it's not all horror stories and disasters :)
People say ignorance is bliss. But I think ignorance in this case is the enemy. It breeds gossip and slander and it casts a bad light on a system that, though it has bad points, is as good as it's going to get for now. And I think if people are really so truly put off by the deplorableness of foster care, then they can pick up their phones and get licensed themselves. I'd love to see what they'd have to say then ;)
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