January 2008

The beagle just ate – literally – my $600 “bite guard”. It’s the only thing standing between me and my teeth being ground down to nubs while I sleep. I am a clencher and a grinder and when I’m not sleeping well (as, like, now) it’s even worse.

I already had an appointment scheduled to have impressions made for a new one – - on February 20th at noon. But I was also already thinking about cancelling that because, at noon, I have Little One with me and I’m pretty confident that he cannot entertain himself at the dentist’s office for an hour or two while I’m having that done.

And February 20th? WAY too far away for me to wait for a new bite guard if I want to keep my teeth in my head.

Does anyone know if those “make your own” bite guards that you can buy at Shopper’s Drugmart (or similar places) are worth the $40? Like, as a temporary measure until I can get an appointment at a time that Coffee can be home to watch Little One?

(Yes, I know the title song has nothing to do with anything.. it just popped into my head when I mentioned grinding my teeth..)

I do not judge 15YO.

Was that was clear in my last post? Because, well, I don’t even know 15YO.

I can’t judge someone I don’t know.

I have heard stories from The Boys about their past with him and I have read court documentation and I have read social workers’ thoughts and impressions and I was once a 15 year old myself. But I do not know him. People on paper are not the same as.. people.

It’s my job – and Coffee’s – to protect our boys in every way possible. This means that, in the grand scheme of the world, we cannot stop to think a lot about what 15YO wants and needs.

We can’t spend much time thinking about what kind of shit he’s been through and may still be going through or may go through in the future when we have three boys in our home that need to heal, to grow, to prosper…

15YO is in the hands of a foster parent and a social worker and an agency who are in charge of worrying about his wants and needs and the things he may need in his life. He has extended family that he’s in touch with and who do their best for him, too.

Is it ideal? Of course not.

Can I change that? No.

To be honest, I spend a lot of time specifically trying NOT to think about 15YO because.. it’s not my job.

Can you believe I just say that? It’s not my job to think about 15YO.

If you’ve known me for any length of time, you know that I’m one of those emotional people who, on meeting a broken person, or someone who’s been through a lot of shit, immediately finds herself trying to help them out. Even if they’re a complete stranger.

And it wears me down on levels that I can’t even begin to describe when I attach myself to a situation that’s out of my league.

I believe that 15YO needs all the same things that The Boys need. But with three boys in the house, 15YO is totally out of my league.

I also know that, in addition to 15YO, there are a lot of other kids out there – thousands of them, in fact – who I cannot spend a lot of time thinking about.

There are thousands of kids who need help or who need homes or who need families or who just need someone to support them. And as much as I’d like to be the one to do that – - I can’t.

Coffee and I have taken on what we can – three boys that we fell in love with at first sight and promised to love and care for until eternity. I no longer view the “AdoptOntario” web site. I no longer read stories about children in need of homes. I’ve had to close my heart, to some extent, because I cannot fit in another lost soul for a while without sacrificing the committment I made to The Boys.

I have had to admit that I cannot take on all of the world’s issues.

You have no idea how hard it has been for me to come to that realization and to accept it with all of my heart. Saying that feels like I’m going against all of my own principles!

On reading this, it sounds like I’m referring to The Boys as some sort of a charity case. They are not. They are three boys who needed a family at the same time that we wanted a family and, as it turned out, we have the skills and the personalities to help them thrive.

We did not adopt them so we could “save the world” or, for that matter, to save THEM.

We adopted them because we wanted a family and we knew that there were kids waiting and we thought that was a cool way to do things. And these kids, well, they just fit.

But.. Coffee and I must focus very heavily on what’s safe, sane and healthy for OUR boys. The three boys who we’ve brought into our family and who we focus on with as much energy and passion as we possibly can – every single day. They are our priority. It’s our job to “make a difference” in their lives as much as we can.

We know we can’t prevent every hurt under the sun for them, of course, but we know that we have to make the best decisions for The Boys that we possibly can, given the circumstances.

And we know that we’ll make mistakes and screw up. We’re humans!

In an ideal, perfect world, our boys and 15YO would see each other regularly. They’d have weekly contact, at least, and they’d chat online and 15YO would be thrilled for his younger brothers and our boys would be cheering 15YO on through life.

This is not an ideal, perfect world.

We do hope – without question and without reservation – that there will come a time in the future when it will be a great idea to have all 4 boys hanging out together. We absolutely don’t want to “cut anyone off” or keep anyone away from anyone. I’ve kept in touch with extended family as much as I can (and they do read here when I’m derangedly busy and can’t send personal email) and I intend to continue that for as long as they’ll permit me.

And if I could write more about the reasons why The Boys came into care and what’s transpired since then, it might all make more sense. If I could write openly about the relationship between all 4 boys, too, that might make more sense.

But I can’t.

So I’m asking you to trust me when I say that we wouldn’t keep the 4 boys apart unless it was something we felt really strongly about. And that we do, very much, want all of them to be ‘reunited’ as quickly as possible and in the best way possible.

And you have to trust me when I say that I don’t blame 15YO. Of all the people I am angry with, and of all the people who could shoulder some responsibility in this mess, he is not one of them. He’s.. a child.

What I write here, in my blog, is only a snippet of what goes on inside my head. I transcribe bits and pieces here so I can sort things through – whether it’s good or bad – and sometimes I forget that you don’t have the whole picture.

So.. please know that I do not blame 15YO but I also do not focus on his needs and wants because it’s.. not my job. It’s just not. And my focus here, and in real life too, is on The Boys and what’s best for them… and no one else.

And yeah, that kind of breaks my heart, too.

Yesterday was The Boys’ last visit with their social worker. It went well – no one got hysterical, and, when she left, the kids were their usual rambunctious and insane selves instead of having a meltdown or screaming fit. It was great!

This meeting marked the near-end of our foster parent status and in a few days we’ll likely be signing the adoptive-placement papers. Every single member of this family is THRILLED!

In talking about The Boys, privately with their worker, I found myself getting rather teary eyed at certain points. For once, it’s not sleep-dep or PMS, it’s simply emotions and joy and sadness all wrapped into one bunch.

The truth is that Coffee and I have adopted amazing kids. And talking about how amazing they are reminds me of how lucky I am and that, in turn, makes me weepy because, seriously, I have no idea what I did to deserve this luck and these kids.

I’m glad The Boys’ social worker is a, well, SOCIAL WORKER, because I’m sure she sees people weeping all the time. Phew.

While we had plenty of good things to talk about at the meeting, and plenty of happy stuff to report, there’s one fairly significant blob-of-yuck on that glowing picture: The Boys’ older brother.

The Boys have a fifteen year old brother (who I’ll call 15YO) who lives with a friend (and that friend’s father) in what’s considered a “kinship foster placement”. The older brother has no desire to be adopted and has chosen to remain a permanent “Crown Ward” instead which is a choice he’s able to make at 15.

15YO has similar constraints on his world as our boys did while in care – he’s not allowed to have contact with his bio-parents, he must remain in school, and he has a worker that visits him regularly to ensure that those guidelines are being met.

Unfortunately 15YO is breaking both of those rules. He’s regularly in touch with his mother (and denies it despite proof to the contrary) and is currently doing miserably in school (when he actually attends). He also isn’t complying with one other stipulation that I’m not at liberty to mention here.

This isn’t really my concern, of course, except that 15YO cannot visit with The Boys until he is meeting those requirements. Particularly the requirement of not having contact with his bio-mother and the other stipulation.

And, of course, The Boys want to see 15YO as soon as humanly possible.

Coffee and I can’t just spell out all the reasons why they can’t see 15YO at this time because that would open a whole new can of worms for The Boys that they’re just not ready to deal with at this point in time. We give them information on a “need to know” basis as well as an age-appropriate basis and, at this point in time, I’m not sure any of them would fully grasp the implications.

The other issue is that 15YO has not shown up for any previously scheduled meeting with The Boys – leaving them absolutely shattered. Four or five scheduled visits (including a birthday party that The Boys planned for him) have gone by where The Boys were left hanging with no call, no explanation and a lot of tears.

So, every day, Oldest One asks me if he can go on MSN to talk to 15YO and, every day, I have to say “no”. Then he asks when he can see 15YO and I have to say that I’m not sure because 15YO isn’t following the rules yet.

I feel like a big jerk saying “no” to what would seem like a reasonable request.

The thing is? I totally understand where 15YO is coming from. HE’S FIFTEEN, for pete’s sake. He has a girlfriend who he obviously wants to spend time with and he has a mother that he’s not supposed to see but who he regularly contacts because, well, she’s HIS MOTHER. He has a job that makes a bit of spending money and, really, HE’S FIFTEEN.

But I need to protect The Boys from heartbreak.

There are, of course, all sorts of underlying issues here – most of which pertain to why The Boys’ came into care.

One things that’s important is that The Boys not be in touch with their bio-Mom and we know, currently, that if all four boys got together, 15YO could then easily fill her in on where they are and thus allow her to show up on our doorstep, appear at The Boys’s school, or otherwise be involved in ways that she shouldn’t.

The social worker believes that bio-Mom would absolutely do that sort of thing.

So, will we ever be able to get The Boys together with 15YO? I don’t know. I really, really, REALLY hope so – for all of their sakes. And because I hate looking like the bad guy when I deny them access to each other (thankfully, for the time being, I can pass that ‘bad guy’ status on to The Boys’ social worker..)

And that’s the negative part. That’s the part that worries me. That’s the part that I’m dwelling on at the moment.

The good part is that The Boys were giddy about saying goodbye to their social worker and getting closer to “adoption day”. And Coffee and I are pretty close to the same level of giddy.

We’ve been talking about having an Adoption Party when things are finalized – a simple BBQ in our backyard with family and friends and well-wishers. It’ll be a chance for The Boys to meet all of the people who supported us in the adoptive process, who acted as references, who love us and who love The Boys by extension. The Boys are, rightfully, thrilled by this idea.

So the good totally outnumbers the bad by about, oh, 99%.

Little One: Mom, what do we say when we pass someone and we’re going really, really fast? Like 100! What do we say?

Me: Umm… Eat my dust?

Little One: YEAH! EAT YOUR DUST, CARS!

Me: No, no, we say “EAT *OUR* DUST, CARS!”

Little One: That’s what I said! EAT YOUR DUST!

Me: Okay. That’ll work, I guess..

Little One: We say it to trucks too, right?

Me: Sure, why not?

Little One: NO! We say EAT YOUR DUCK, TRUCK!

Me: Eat your duck? Are you sure?

Little One: YES! EAT YOUR DUCK, TRUCK! EAT YOUR DUCK! DUCK!

Seriously, I learn something new every day.

Today is the day that The Boys social worker comes for her final visit with them. After this, it’s just a matter of time before all the papers are signed and we begin the six month wait for adoption finalization.

Since the paperwork hasn’t been fully signed, yet, I’m not including The Boys’ names.

Somehow I suspect you’ll forgive me.

Read the rest of this entry »

Middle One: [dancing around and slapping hand against mouth] WAH WAH WAH I’M AN INDIAN! WAHWAHWAHWAHWAH!

Me, thinking to myself: Hmmm.. That’s definitely a stereotype and it’s not racially appropriate and I probably shouldn’t let him keep “wah wah wah”ing because I don’t want him to grow up to think “Indians” wander around doing rain-dances and wah-wah’ing. But I don’t want to make a huge deal out of this or overreact. He’s a kid. This is what kids do, right? Or no?

Middle One: WAHWAHWAH! INDIAN! WAH WAH WAH! I’M AN INDIAN!

He actually IS part Native. So I can’t say “Indians don’t actually DO that” because, well, HE IS AN “INDIAN” AND HE *IS* DOING IT. Crap.

We’ll be having some casual conversation about stereotypes, still, I think.

The alarm FAILED this morning and we all ran around like lunatics trying to get out the door at a reasonably-late time.

Little One was basically scooped up and tossed into the car with a bag of cereal and a box of juice for breakfast. He barely had time to smooch everyone and shout his 800,001 “goodbye! I love you!”s before Coffee drove away.

Oldest One trudged downstairs and ate his breakfast.

Middle One seemed to be the most unphased by the rush of activity and I was thrilled to see him sitting on the sofa playing his DS, quietly, while everyone else ran around.

I was thrilled, that is, until he noted that he had not yet eaten his breakfast. He “forgot that we eat breakfast in the morning” until I mentioned to Oldest One that he could put his cereal bowl in the sink and go put his coat on so we could leave.

Sweet merciful crap, kid! Put down the DS and EAT YOUR BREAKFAST.

Finally I tossed the two remaining kids into the car and drove them to school so they wouldn’t be late.

On arriving home I promptly slid on a patch of water on the floor – and my jeans ripped in the crotchular region.

So did some ligament or muscle in my ACTUAL crotchular region and now I’m walking funny without the joy of, y’know, a 12 hour sex-romp.

DAMMIT.

If I didn’t know better, I’d SWEAR it was Monday.

Middle One lost a ripped out his own tooth a few days ago. He placed it under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy who, like a dingus, forgot to claim it. She finally remembered last night and left $2. He suggested that when he’s in grade 3 he’ll get $3 per tooth because “that’s how the tooth fairy works”.

Good to know.

–

On Saturday, Jo and AMP came to visit when they found themselves in the KW area. The kids, as usual, were completely giddy to see humans other than their parents and spent much of the evening running around, screaming, dancing, tickling each other and being, well, KIDS.

And then Melle and Andrew appeared for the UFC-related festivities which completely blew any chance of the kids calming down.

I may need to rethink that whole “everyone comes to say hello when a guest arrives” thing and, instead, make it “everyone goes to their room and talks in a whisper when guests arrive” instead. (I kid, of course..)

All three kids have asked repeatedly when they’ll be seeing the last 5 visitors again – Aunt Lena, Melle and Andrew, Jo and AMP. Can we see them today? Tomorrow? Can we go to their house? Why can’t they come NOW? WE LIKE THEM!

We’re raising social butterflies!

–

Today I’m hauling Middle One to the dentist to get one of his spacers cemented back into his mouth. It “came out” when he was rooting around in there (for some inexplicable reason) and we want to get it back in before his teeth morph into something from the Big Book of British Smiles.

This kid has terrible teeth – some pulled, gigantic metal spacers all over the place – and he admits it’s because he just couldn’t be bothered to brush his teeth in the past. He was reminded to do it.. but didn’t.

Yeeesh. It’s a good thing that Coffee brushes with him at night.

–

And now it’s 10:12 and I need to grab something to eat before I leap into my car to pick up Little One from school. Where did the morning go?!

This song used to make me cry and cry and cry. I cannot explain it – the lyrics aren’t anything special. My Dad played it once in a while (on record!) and I’d get hysterical. I’m not talking as an infant – I was, oh, 10? 11?

Something about Waylon Jennings’ voice, maybe? The backup singers? Who knows…

Amanda
by: Waylon Jennings

I’ve held it all inward, God knows, I’ve tried,
But it’s an awful awakening in a country boy’s life,
To look in the mirror in total surprise.
At the hair on my shoulders and the age in my eyes.

Amanda, light of my life.
Fate should have made you a gentleman’s wife.
Amanda, light of my life.
Fate should have made you a gentleman’s wife.

It’s a measure of people who don’t understand,
The pleasures of life in a hillbilly band.
I got my first guitar when I was fourteen,
Well I finally made forty, still wearing jeans.

Amanda, light of my life.
Fate should have made you a gentleman’s wife.
Amanda, light of my life.
Fate should have made you a gentleman’s wife.

There’s a fresh new baby in the world… I won’t spoil the surprise by telling you his name or size or revealing any pictures, but OHMYGOD HE’S SO GORGEOUS!

Congratulations to Michelle and her husband Cat!