December 2007

One of the questions posed to me on WNET, pertaining to The Boys, was the idea of kids having any “say” or “control” over where they’re placed and when/if they’re adopted.

In the case of the Ontario child welfare system, and definitely in the case of the agency we’re involved with (a public system, local to us) the kids have a great deal of input into their own future. Age-appropriately, of course.

For our boys, the agency asked them to list specific qualities they wanted in a family, asked whether they wanted to be adopted at all (some kids don’t – they want to remain foster kids or they’re old enough that they’ll be leaving the system soon to become independent) and have given them many opportunities to talk about how they feel about being adopted.

We’re lucky – The Boys very much want to be adopted, and their only real request was that it be a “two parent family with a Mom and a Dad”. This is an important note because single people CAN (and do) adopt, as do same-sex couples (married or common-law) and agencies around here don’t discriminate on those levels if the parent(s) has the appropriate knowledge and skills to deal with a child’s particular needs.

Other than that, The Boys had no particular requests.

The agency does its best, of course, to match kids with parents who have similar interests or activities. In our case, we’re adopting three kids with interests that include reading, computers, animals, writing and playing video games (like every other kid in the world).

They also work very hard to make the transition from foster care to an adoptive family a gentle process. Young children are given up to three months to transition – short visits lead to longer visits lead to weekends and so on. The Boys are transitioning much faster due to several factors in their favour – age, being a group of siblings, and the fact that the Christmas holidays are fast-approaching and they have time off from school.

Before we met them for the first time, we made a book of photos for The Boys to check out. Pictures of us, our house, the dogs, the rats, etc. The agency requests at *least* one photo of each parent but some people go totally crazy and make scrapbooks and the like. I am not quite that organized.

If The Boys had met us and decided they didn’t like us at all, the agency would have worked to find out whether it was just a fear reaction (fear of adoption, fear of a particular personality trait, etc) or whether it was a completely non-negotiable reaction. If it had been non-negotiable, we’d have been politely informed of this by the adoption worker and that would have been the end of things. We’d be back to looking at profiles.

We’ve been very honest with The Boys about the adoption process and reminding them that while WE want them to move in with us and be our kids forever, we want THEM to decide on their own. To think about it while we’re together, and apart, and to decide if they want us to be their parents.

So far, that reminder has been met with giddy, “YES! ADOPT US! WE WANT TO STAY!” from the two older boys. The youngest just grins. But he seems to be somewhat happy to do pretty much ANYTHING, so I’m not considering that to be a ringing endorsement yet.

They keep asking if they can just “stay now” or whether they can be adopted “right now” and whether we can pick up all their stuff at the foster home tomorrow and let them stay forever.

We, on the other hand, keep reminding them that they have to finish school at their old place before they can move here – and that the agency has to make the final decision because they’re in charge for a while longer.

While it may sound almost callous that The Boys are so ready to leave their foster home so quickly and easily, a good part of it is due to the great work the foster parents have done in explaining the idea of foster care, permanent families and the reasons why the foster family can’t just adopt The Boys themselves.

The Middle One and I worked on his homework – speaking of rolling eyes and sulking – and one of the assignments was to create a mini family tree. (His name, Mom, Dad, and Grandparents on both sides.) I happen to have some of that information in his file, and suggested that I could help him with spelling.

He looked at me like I was absolutely, bat-shit insane, and insisted that he was going to use my information and Coffee’s information and that was that. Okay, then!

We’ll continue to work hard, however, to keep The Boys aware of their roots (so to speak). We’ll talk about their mom and their dad and their extended family as much as we’re able (i.e., without forcing them to do it). We’ll talk about where they’ve been and all the people that love them, too.

Even as we want them to be “our kids”, they’ll always be in other people’s hearts. And we want that. The more, the merrier, y’know?

I have a big ol’ ramble about birth parents that I’ll post at some point, but, honestly, I am so tired I could fall asleep if I blinked too hard. Coffee is exhausted, too. We had a very good day.

The Boys went to bed around 1am last night. There was some late-night sledding (in the dark) and some pizza eating and some Wii playing and some assembling of a bed and plenty of “I don’t need to pee”s and by the time Coffee and I crawled into bed it was really, really, REALLY late.

So far, only Coffee and I have made it out of bed today. Go figure.

I slept SO BADLY last night that the only thing I can do is laugh about it.

From the moment I put my exhausted head down on the pillow, I was wide awake. WIDE AWAKE.

First I thought every single creak was a kid making his way down – or being scared, or calling me, or calling Coffee, or, or or..

Then I’d start to drift off and Coffee would snore and it would startle me.

Then I’d be on high-alert for any noises that might be kids again.

Then, around 4am, it occurred to me that, HOLYSHIT, we’re in charge of three little kids and, um, are we REALLY qualified?? (Which is ultimately an amusing thing to ponder given how much we had to go through to be CONSIDERED as parents for The Boys..)

But that got me all worked up anyway.

And just before the alarm went off this morning, I woke up in a cold soggy sweat. Bolted awake, really.

Monday is seriously going to be nap day for me.

Today we’re making pancakes for breakfast and there will be sledding and we’re going to play with Lego (I’ve been informed), and everyone is going to have a bubble bath, too. We have bubble bath finger paints!

I’m a really happy, really good mess of a mom.

..because there are 3 boys staying over at our house ALL WEEKEND and not going back to their foster parents’ place until SUNDAY and I am so excited I could pee myself.

Good thing I bought those pull-ups earlier, huh?

It’s a total surprise that they’re here – we were supposed to go out to a movie and dinner and the foster parents suggested that, if we wanted, we could just bring ‘em home.

We made a quick trip to Zellers to pick up comforters and towels and stuff and.. here we are.

OHMYGOD, THEY ARE SUCH AMAZING KIDS!!

Yesterday I was on the phone making arrangements to enroll the two older boys in the school near where we live. As I talked about some various assorted things, the woman on the other end of the line started speaking with, “Well, speaking mother to mother..” and I was *this close* to interrupting to say, “Wait, I don’t have KIDS! I’m not a Mom!”

I imagine that would have been really confusing for her. Clearly I am not quite fully adjusted to my new job title.

Today I was at the grocery store picking up the ingredients for the lasagna we’re going to eat tomorrow and remembered that I needed to pick up some “pull ups” for Little One.

He’s fully toilet “trained” (is there a better way to phrase that? I don’t like the word ‘trained’..) but he will not get out of bed in the middle of the night if he needs to pee – even if he’s awake. (He also won’t get out of bed in the morning unless someone tells him to..) Thus, the pull-ups are a mighty good invention.

As I placed the pull-ups onto the checkout counter, the man behind me (wheeling a stroller with a little girl inside) leaned over and asked, “Do those actually work as well as they say?”

I looked back at him and said, “I don’t know, to be honest. I hope so! My son has been wearing them for a while now, though, so they must.. but I really don’t know.. I guess I’ll find out soon! Ha! ha!”

He looked at me really strangely. How could I NOT KNOW if they worked as well as they’re supposed to when my son has been wearing them for a while now? But he didn’t say anything.

Sweet merciful crap, I’m a MOM!

Somewhere around 1988, I first heard the song “Paradise City” by Guns N Roses and, without question, my world was changed. For the better, I might add.

Until that day, I had been an a.m. radio listener, combined with some old LPs my parents had (of standard fare – The Beatles, The Stones, etc) and, of course, some Cyndi Lauper tossed in for good measure.

I’m pretty sure it was my friend Tanya who let me listen to her walkman in grade 9 – during lunch – as she had phenomenal taste in music thanks to her older brothers and she was always happy to share it with me. She introduced me to Metallica, Megadeth, Faith No More, Iron Maiden and a bunch of other bands I had never heard of in my life.

She also introduced me to Joe Satriani, Yngve Malmsten and a few other guitar, uh, heroes.

I totally owe her a debt of gratitude for kicking me past the ” Casey Casem’s Top 40″ musical genre and for taping the video for “Sweet Child O’ Mine” from MuchMusic and letting me sit in her basement with the remote control, rewinding it over and over and over while rocking out. If I recall correctly, she wasn’t even a big fan of the band – but she knew that I didn’t have cable at home and would otherwise not have had a chance to see it for years.

Anyway, that first listen from Tanya’s earphones turned into a full-on 13-year-old-girl obsession with GnR.

I went to concerts. I bought their tapes (and, later, CDs). I wore t-shirts with the band’s assorted logos on them. I plastered my walls with pictures I cut out of magazines (or my friends did, for me) and, to this day, if you open my grade 9 yearbook a big photo of Axl Rose will fall onto your lap.

Though Coffee is not a big fan, to say the least, he has learned that I have very little humour when it comes to my devotion to the band. Even now, nearly 20 years later. Don’t fuck with me when I’m in the middle of wailing “It’s So Easy” or “Rocket Queen” or any of my other favourites. In fact, just wait for the song to end before you even try to TALK to me.

Eventually the band broke up – right around the time some major parts of my life exploded – and while I continued to regularly listen to their music, I didn’t stop to consider what had happened to the band. I just knew that it hadn’t been a good ending and that something had gone wrong between the band members and, well, that was all I figured I’d ever know.

My friend Jo, in high school, had a major thing for the band’s lead guitar player – Slash. He of the long curly hair that hung in his face and the top hat and leather pants he seemed to have permanently affixed to his body. He was cool and elusive and, my god, if there’s one thing no one can deny, it’s that the guy was (and still is) a totally fucking amazing guitar player.

I seem to recall that she was going to marry Slash – and I, Axl – and we’d live in houses next door to each other and party all the time.

Although GnR’s music was chock full of misogyny and debauchery, it was intensely appealing to a bunch of teenage girls who thought the “bad boys” were the best thing since sliced bread. Tattooed, rude, riot-provoking.. my god, you couldn’t ask for a better band.

We weren’t the only ones with the obsession – plenty of guys loved them, plenty of older teenagers we knew loved them. They were a FORCE and they had a style that none of us had ever heard before.

Over the years I’ve read with mild interest (and a lot of fear and trepidation) of GnR comebacks and potential album releases. I read about GnR without Slash (or any of the other former members, other than Axl) preparing to release an album called “Chinese Democracy”.

Part of me wanted it to be as good as it used to be – regardless of who was in it – with Axl being a bad-boy up front again.

A bigger part of me wasn’t ready to have my illusions busted, however, if the new GnR wasn’t as good as the old. (And, let’s be honest, it wasn’t likely to be anywhere NEAR as good as the old stuff.)

Various tracks leaked online and I heard them and I wished, immediately, that I hadn’t. There’s no way to say with any certainty that what I heard was actually GnR – despite Axl’s very identifiable voice – since all the tracks were wobbly and distorted and full of noise.

Either way, I wasn’t impressed and I began to think that a comeback, a return, a new incarnation, was just not a very good idea at all.

*AT ALL.*

So I’ve kind of resigned myself to not being a rabid GnR fan – after all these years. It’s easier than being disappointed, right?

When Slash and Duff and Matt formed Velvet Revolver with Scott Weiland, I didn’t really care. I had a passing interest but not a big enough drive to buy the album or seek out any of the tracks online. I heard bits and pieces on the radio, and it was good, but I didn’t really focus on it much. There was no Axl, of couse.

I mentioned that Jo was a huge fan of Slash, and I of Axl, but I’ve always been completely in awe of Slash’s talents. There’s no one in the world who plays the way he does – his style, his passion, his skill – and having attempted a few chords of Sweet Child O’ Mine (on Tanya’s guitar, no less) I’m pretty aware that the guy has MAJOR talent and he makes it all look WAY easy.

When I discovered that he had a book coming out, entitled, “Slash“, I figured it would be worth a read. My 13 year old inner teenager went absolutely batshit insane at the idea of the book, quite frankly.

Okay, I’m lying. I figured it would a be worth a read in case it contained anything about Axl that I didn’t already know. There. That’s the truth.

I was surprised that our local library had ordered it and amused to find I was the first person to place a hold on it.

But my god, once I started I couldn’t put the book DOWN. I devoured it the same way I devoured GnR’s music over the years. I laughed, I laughed more, I learned heaps of stuff about Slash (and yes, Axl too) and, to be honest, it’s one of the best books about rock n’ roll that I’ve read in a long while. I’m as surprised as you are by that, incidentally.

The book starts off in childhood – covering how Slash became interested in guitar, how he learned to play, the details of his first band in high school – and continues through all the background on the GnR tours, Slash’s Snakepit, and into the goods on Velvet Revolver. It’s as relevant to the VR fans as it is to the GnR fans as it is to anyone who just thinks Slash is a kick-ass guitarist.

I always had a great deal of respect for Slash – I can close my eyes and listen to him play pretty much anything and end up totally in awe.

But now that I’ve read about his experiences with GnR, and heard ‘from the horse’s mouth’ why the band broke up, and heard all about how his life has evolved and shifted over the years, you can bet your sweet bippy I’ll be seeking out some Velvet Revolver to give it a GOOD listen instead of a half-hearted, “Eh, no Axl” listen.

If you were (or are) a fan of Guns N Roses, or Slash, or any of the other guys in the band for that matter, I’d totally recommend the book. I give it 5/5 stars. My inner teenager gives it 20 stars and some big red lipstick kisses, too. Possibly some tight white jeans and a bottle of hairspray.

If I knew where Jo was these days, I’d totally be buying her a copy of the book for Christmas. (And I’d be sure to flag all the pages with photos so she could check those out first. )

Without mentioning this particular blog, I politely asked our adoption worker when it would be safe to “share” pictures of our boys on a “family website” that we’re setting up.

Sadly, you’re all going to have to wait for January – or, possibly sooner – when The Boys are legally placed with us for adoption.

I CAN’T HANDLE THE WAITING!

There is nothing I’d like more than to share the specifically goofy pictures we took last night. And to tell you their names!

But we must wait, so.. we’ll wait.

(Impatiently, perhaps…)

I haven’t really talked about the foster parents yet, have I? I don’t want to mention their real names, of course, since they’re totally peripheral to things here so I’m going to continue referring to them as “the foster parents” or “foster mom and foster dad”.

Having said that, these are some totally amazing people.

They have two biological children, have our three boys, and the foster mom runs a daycare in her home. All of that may sound totally chaotic (and, to some extent, it really is!) but the house is warm and welcoming and tidy and not even remotely out of control.

Our boys are their first placement – one that has been totally wonderful for them (since The Boys don’t have any major issues) and they’ve been really happy with how things have worked out so far.

They’ve welcomed us with open arms and have given us a lot of great insight into The Boys and their habits and personalities. That’s pretty valuable.

While I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it must be for them to simply hand The Boys over to us (albeit after a lot of work on our part) after caring for them for almost 2 years, they’ve been nothing but up-front and open with us.

They’ve pushed for us to visit as often as we’d like to come by, to call any time, to email if we have any less-urgent questions. They have a parenting style that, from all appearances, somewhat mirrors our style: open, honest, direct and with humour.

Perhaps most importantly, to me, they’d like to stay in touch and continue seeing The Boys after they’ve moved in with us. They don’t want to cut the relationship off or make The Boys lose another set of people from their lives. They want their two kids to continue a relationship with our three.

That, alone, made me love them.

When the foster mom called me up on the speaker phone with the very excited boys on Monday night, I loved her a little bit more.

Last night we pulled up in front of their home and saw three faces pressed up to the glass, waiting for us. One of the daycare kids was just getting ready to leave and foster mom made us wait outside – so our first meeting with The Boys would be private, special and so that other kid wouldn’t be a part of it. No distractions, as she said.

When we walked in, said hello and then started to feel somewhat awkward, she ushered all of us into the kitchen (including the adoption worker) and we sat around the table chatting. She led the boys a little, prompting them to remember questions that they had for us, and then she invited Coffee and I to stay for dinner with them.

After we ate, foster dad suggested we (Coffee, me, the kids) could hang out in their basement for a few hours to get to know each other better and to play with toys (and the Wii) and, in general, to relax and enjoy each other.

Both foster parents have been incredibly supportive in helping us to get a good ‘feel’ for The Boys and to help us make connections between us and them that will allow all our meetings to be smooth and, hopefully, mostly stress-free.

When we left last night, long past The Boys’ bedtime (eeep!), they reminded us that we can visit ANY time – even if it’s a day that’s not on our schedule from the agency. (The agency is aware of this, of course, and has said it’s okay with them – the schedule is simply the ‘required’ visits, so to speak.)

They gave us their email address so we could keep in touch and they told us how happy they were that our first meeting went so well.

It may seem like a small deal for me to say that these people have been so wonderful – after all, in a matter of weeks, The Boys will be living with us full-time and we’ll be on our way to being a family forever. But these are the people who have looked after The Boys for two years, taken care of them all day and night, fed them, sheltered them, explained to them why they’re in care in the first place.

And to know that The Boys have been well-cared for, and loved, really, makes me feel so warm and fuzzy.

Foster mom has also been very up-front with The Boys about why they can’t be adopted into the foster family – since Day One, really – and the simple reason is that the foster parents want to be that: foster parents. They want to help kids who are in transition – to get them from point A (intake) to point B (reunification or adoption, depending).

The joy The Boys expressed over being chosen for a “Real Family” is a pretty good statement as to how well the foster parents have explained things to them. Of COURSE it won’t be all smooth-sailing and OF COURSE there will be sadness and concern during the transition – and that, too, is a pretty good sign that The Boys were well-cared for.

I am incredibly grateful to the foster parents for caring for The Boys. Incredibly.

Foster parenting is not always an easy job – anyone who knows a foster parent is aware of THAT fact – and it’s not a job that pays well. In fact, the parents aren’t paid anything at all – they simply get a “per diem” for the expenses relating to the kids. It’s a job in which regular human beings can be called at 2am and asked to take a child on an “emergency” basis and where social workers are regular visitors in the home.

It’s a job that requires foster parents to be in touch with agencies regularly, fill in a lot of paperwork, and deal with kids who have often arrived from an incredibly unhealthy environment and who are, as you’d expect, terrified, anxious, sad, mourning and grieving and, often, totally confused as to why they’re not at home with their parents anymore.

And these are regular people doing this job. People like you and me and your neighbours.

Agencies are absolutely desperate for foster parents.

So I am exceedingly grateful to the foster parents who have looked after The Boys and who have treated them with respect and love and taken extremely good care of all three of them. And, when all of this is over, you can bet your butt I’ll be writing up a big long letter of thanks and sending it over to them.

We have our “regular” mailman and we have our “special package” delivery mailman and both of them are friendly and kind and always rather cheerful.

The package guy isn’t seen around here as often, of course, but he knows how much I look forward to getting stuff in the mail and that I’m almost always giddy when he brings me a package.

Today I saw him walking up the driveway, carrying a box, so I met him at the front door.

He was missing his usual cheerful smile and looked rather apprehensive about giving me the box.

Mailman: I’ve got a package for you, but I don’t think you’re going to like it…

Me: Oh? Why not?

Mailman: It’s labeled “FRAGILE” but.. listen.. [shakes box and incredible amounts of rattling are heard]

Me: I bet that’s Lego.

Mailman: What?

Me: Yep, it’s Lego. No need to worry.

Mailman: WHY WOULD THEY LABEL IT FRAGILE? IT ALMOST GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK!

Me: *tee hee*

Poor guy!

Man, THAT’ll teach me to bring up circumcision on my blog!

Next up, we can tackle religion! And politics! And, erm, what are the other ‘hot button’ subjects? PORN! FEMINISM! ANIMALS WEARING SWEATERS!

(Feel free to make your own suggestions in the comments!)

Please, please, please follow this link and email your MP. If you’re like me, and frustration ruins your ability to write coherently, they provide an easy “fill in the blanks” template for saying what needs to be said.

From the site:

[..] new legislation proposed by this government will be a complete sell-out to the United States’ government and media’s demands. The Digital Millennium Copyright Act — a law that the U.S. passed in 1997 and has been widely seen as a damaging failure — will be imported wholesale. Instead of inviting a new era, Canada will repeat all the mistakes of the last decade.

This will not be a copyright law for Canadians. It will be a copyright law from entrenched U.S. lobbyists and politicians. Join us, and fight back!

I don’t normally beg people to do, well, ANYTHING, but I’m begging you to go check out the site and make your voice known before it’s too late. (Yeah, I know how cliched that sounds, but this really IS important.)

(If you’re on Facebook, you can also join this group – with me! – and learn more..)

We met the boys at 5:30 – we stayed until 9pm – and now we’re home.

I am completely and utterly smitten. I got all weepy on the ride home, alone in my car, thinking about leaving them behind. Even though they’re with totally amazing foster parents in a house full of love, I wanted to bring them home NOW NOW NOW.

We see them again on Friday and there is SO MUCH TO BE DONE before then. It’s crazy.

And it looks like they’ll be staying with us for Christmas, if all goes as planned, rather than having a sleep over and then being at the foster parents’ house for the holiday.

They are unspeakably wonderful kids. Totally amazing.

I think Coffee’s going to sleep well tonight after hanging them all upside down by their ankles over and over and being chased around by little boys who like to tickle people. Wheeee!

I got “Eskimo Kisses” from the Little One (either that or he was trying to coat my face in snot – it’s hard to say) and I got hugged and I got to see Bionicles in action (and they are cool!) and..

Man, I’m tired. Talk about an emotional BIG DAY.

But I’m also totally and completely and utterly smitten. MY BOYS ROCK!

Holy crap, it’s really happening.