meeting Doodie, the best photo ever, and a painful HEADS UP

I've thought of a few other adventures that took place before the boys moved in. 

A few weeks before I stayed with them in the hotel in Indiana, Coach, Curly, and I were supposed to meet Debbie half way. We ended up sitting on the expressway for over an hour in the same.exact.position. There'd been an accident on the other side of the interstate. Loss of life. It was incredibly sad. 

Fortunately, Debbie agreed to meet us at our hotel rather than sit at the halfway spot and wait. We appreciated that so much, and Curly was so relieved. The next day we took the boys to a water park. It was a fast 24 hour visit, but they had a blast. Fortunately, so did Curly. 

It was a hot sunny day and we had little info on this park, so we got there early in case they shut down for too many guests. Nope, they let in everyone and their brother. If you are keeping a tally, you can count Indiana as a state that likes to pretend there's no pandemic. 

Our kids had participated in visits whenever possible, often missing out on something at home. They rose to the occasion regularly. Sometimes I gave them a gentle reminder about how much their presence meant to the boys, and also how much we were banking on their feedback. As in, we need your input. 

At the water park, Larry made a friend. This was typical. Larry made friends at every park, playground, or beach we visited. 

Larry could kind of hold his breath in the water, but he knew no strokes. I tried to show him how to blow bubbles, kick his legs, then add  arms. The basics. I'm no Michael Phelps. We were in the main pool. Coach had taken Harry on the lazy river or something that Larry didn't want to do right then. And Curly was free to do whatever she wanted.

He and I played catch with a ball we'd brought and occasionally I gave him pointers on how to swim. It didn't take long before a little boy came over and asked if he could play catch with Larry. Larry asked me if it was OK. 

Me (to myself): You mean, you want to play with a kid your age and you expect me to just lean up against the side of the pool and catch some rays instead of trying to create fun out of a game of catch in a crazy crowded pool where I am constantly worried that I might accidentally hit someone with the ball, or you will, and one of us will get a nasty glare, I mean - I guess I'm OK with it.

After the boys played catch a bit, they came closer to me. Larry had a question.

Larry:  This is my friend. Can you teach him how to swim like you taught me? 

I never saw this kid's parents and I have no idea how you let a kid who doesn't really know how to swim just wander off to do his thing at a crowded water park, but there are lots of different parenting styles, I guess. 

Me:  Um, sure. What's you name, buddy? 

Boy in need of swimming lessons:  Doodie.

 

compliments of YARN memes

Above is a GIF from Caddy Shack. If you are unfamiliar:  it's a Baby Ruth dropped in the pool. The rest is history. Someone, who doesn't watch their kid in a water park, named their kid Doodie. 

I asked him to repeat it a few times, so I was sure I wasn't CALLING him Doodie without just cause. 

Anyway, I provided Doodie with a few basic swimming lessons. He would 'perfect' kicking or blowing bubbles and splash right back over to me and ask for his next assignment. He was quite pleased with himself. He and Larry splashed around in their new mission to swim like champs. It was pretty sweet. 

When we left to meet Debbie again, Larry said something along the lines, SO THAT'S YOUR POOL THEN? Poor confused boy, who wasn't allowed to leave Indiana with us, thought that was going to be our regular, daily-pool hang-out once he officially moved in. We were like, nope. Our pool isn't that busy - wish we had slides like this, but we have a high dive and a low dive. It's also a lot less crowded. 

The other visit I failed to give a shout out to was back in April when Larry was celebrating his 9th birthday. We drove in for the day and met him at an indoor adventure place full of bouncy houses, video games, gross pizza, people who looked like they hung out in those venues too much, and most likely lots-0-germs. Nary a mask was worn, except by us. 

Anyway, Curly was the only one planning to go. When we were literally walking out to the car to leave, Reg walked into the kitchen. We'd already begged him to come. It was more fun for Curly to have a buddy along and we commenced with our begging. Reg wanted to play basketball outside all day - an almost 8 hour round trip drive did NOT appeal, but we pointed out that it was a rainout. We reminded him that Debbie had the keys to the school she worked at. She'd let us go there to shoot hoops after the germy-kid-place. 

A nice gym. All to ourselves. Reg threw on some clothes, brushed his teeth, and hopped in the car. Curly squealed with delight. 

Curly and Reg ran around the germ-infested-joint and helped the boys get as many tickets as possible so they could eventually pick a really lame prize. Then they found the basketball shooting game. Um, Reg and Curly broke the record and got to type their names in the register thing - Harry and Larry were impressed and overjoyed. 

Debbie's 3 yr old granddaughter, who she is raising, was there. She is super shy and kept begging Debbie to take her on the bouncy houses. I gave Curly a nod and soon granddaughter had Curly wrapped around her little finger, or vice versa. 

Afterwards we went to the school and basketball was played at nauseum. We drove home with a sweaty, smelly Reg. He and Curly chuckled about little things that had happened during the visit. 

The highlight:  we gave Larry his gift. It was a pop-up soccer goal and a mini b-ball hoop for over the door. We'd talked about signing them up for local soccer league and they were pumped. B-ball is Larry's favorite thing in the world. 

I also made him a photo frame. I took a handful of photos since we'd met the boys and organized them in a collage. I made sure each of our kids was represented. It was a last minute add on, but it turned out cute. 

I wish I could share the expression on his face when he opened it. His face went from: 

OH, A GOAL. OH, A BASKETBALL HOOP. WOW - LOOK AT THIS!

I happened to snap a picture of him opening the frame and I captured his face. Priceless. 

Heads up:  not gonna lie, these happy memories are hard to share. I wish I'd posted them in real time, but I wanted to be SURE this was a go before I opened up about our journey. Things get incredibly difficult later. It is REALLY hard for me to look back at all of this knowing what lies in wait for us. Sometimes writing about it is therapeutic and sometimes it's just a struggle, but I don't want to delay the rest of the story either. I wanna wrap it up. I'm in a pickle over here. I so appreciate everyone's support, but I also feel like I'm stringing you along on this hopeful ride that might not turn out the way any of us dreamed and I feel unjustified in accepting all of your praise. Not that we weren't doing EVERYTHING that I'm describing AND THEN SOME, but it feels odd to hear how overjoyed everyone is that we are accepting the boys into our life (even though that is exactly what we've done) . . . because you all happen to be a little behind in the reality that is currently happening. I'm going to leave it at that for this week. 

more bullet points, therapy, and a new perspective & a real time, never ending issue

That title up there was initially MORE BULLETS, etc - but I opted to change it lest you'd think things had taken a violent turn. 

* Therapy:  I have to be there. The boys each attend on a separate day. She is planning to create a bond with me and each boy. This woman came recommended by Alice, my worker AND by the therapist that Coach and I met with when Lad was really struggling. We'd shared our plan with the therapist we met with to advise us on how to proceed with him, and she'd told us this woman is the most respected in the field. All she does is work with adopted children. She specializes in TBRI (trust-based relational-intervention). 

* Logistics of therapy:  I pick Harry up early from school on Thursday, my day off of babysitting. Then Coach has to be home at 3:00 for an hour  between patients to be sure someone is here when Larry gets off the bus. Harry and I usually get home at 4, unless there's traffic. The appointment is about 13 minutes away, but it's all expressway - throw in an accident and we could really be late. I pick Larry up early on Wednesday, and Coach has to high tail it home by 2:30 in order to cover my babysitting gig, and to be home for Harry who gets off the bus at 3:05.

Sound confusing? Somehow I grasp it, but I swear to you 

every single week, Coach asks if I need him to be home at a set time on those days. A few times, my high school kids have had a half day - so he was off the hook. A college kid might have been home once. My dad came and sat on the deck watching Larry play till I got home once. I can't believe how often Coach dodges the bullet. Once I even agreed to take Larry to his office, in the wrong direction, so Lar could sit there and color or read or do homework and Coach wouldn't have to leave the office. Then after Harry's appointment, we drove past our home in order to go back to Coach's office and collect Larry. I did that once. Never again. Every time I complained about having to be home, I was like UM, MY ROLE IS BIGGER THAN YOURS IN THIS THERAPY THING. I'M NOT SITTING IN A WAITING ROOM- I'M PART OF IT. GOODNESS, DON'T ASK ME AGAIN IF YOU HAVE TO BE HERE. 

* Coach talked ages ago about changing his work schedule. His work said OK - but it wasn't going to change until October 11th. Once that happened, this begging him to be home wasn't going to be an issue. He was going to be home in the evenings for the entire school year. Like by 3 three days a week, and 6:45 Tuesday and Friday. Fridays didn't matter, no homework, no hard core bedtimes. Perfect.

I don't have many photos for this post, but Halloween is almost here and can I get a show of hands for anyone else who made a kid a Chewbacca costume at his insistence (even visited the fabric stores in order to select the right fur fabric) and then end up having Halloween land on a day that was 95 degrees out? My friend was the room mother/classroom volunteer, so she was at his kindergarten party. She called me afterwards and asked if I was trying to kill my kid.

* Therapy itself is 50 minute of play therapy. Um, my aching knees. I work out, but some of the stuff we do on the floor with legs crossed kills me. I've played Twister. Walked across a room balancing a balloon between my cheek and a boy's cheek - like the Tango. I've learned how to do a mean pillow sandwich (think back massage in the shape of adding mayo, pickles, any imagined food item - then place large pillow on top and then gently laying on top of that), played numerous games of Chutes and Ladders (happens to be one of those games we never owned when I was a kid and I thought all those that had it were SO lucky), and colored with gel markers.

* A recent session with Harry: It was more talking than playing. My knees rejoiced. Harry had been acting up at home and at school. I let Pam, the therapist know before his session. Not typical acting up, but really disruptive behavior. She talked about control and how it was probably hard for him because he was used to doing whatever he wanted. Even being at Debbie's house, that was different rules than what was at our house. Debbie was more lenient. She wasn't having them read regularly or bathe daily. Fast food was a norm. Harry was quick to say DEBBIE TOOK GOOD CARE OF US. Pam and I agreed, it wasn't wrong - just different. It was change. It was a lot.

Then he talked about how he'd leave the house to follow Larry around when he was REALLY young, because no one watched what he did when they lived with their folks. It was a dodgy place to live and they were often left on their own to fend for themselves. He told us that once his dad locked he and another couple of kids who were all living together out of the house overnight. He was probably under 7. His grandma took in he and Larry for awhile (Larry talks about this too - saying he was fed good meals there and she cared for them - she gave them baths), but then the dad came and took Harry back to the drug den where he lived so he could take care of the other kids, specifically the infant twins he and his new drug addict wife had just had. Harry pulled his hood over his face and tugged on the strings during the session. He wept. 

* TRBI class taught by Pam that was supposed to happen Sept 25th was postponed until mid October. This class, that both Mini and I were planning to take this semester and Coach would take it next semester, is taught to parents with kids who've experienced trauma. They need to be parented differently. Coach and I felt we were doing our best, but we were probably doing 'it' wrong as these guys needed something different. 

It was around this time that Larry started giving us a very difficult time. Pam suggested I meet with her on my own, instead of bringing a boy. I did that. She had some handouts for me about the TRBI method and we reviewed some stuff in order to get a crash course in stuff she thought might help. 

* Then she leaned across the table and told me:  THESE BOYS ARE ONE OF THE MORE SEVERE CASES OF TRAUMA I'VE EVER DEALT WITH. I'M NOT SAYING THIS PLACEMENT ISN'T GOING TO WORK. BUT YOU AND COACH NEED TO DECIDE. THIS IS GOING TO TAKE YEARS OF HARD WORK. THESE BOYS SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN PLACED WITH A BIG FAMIY. THEY SHOULD BE WITH A FAMILY WITH NO OTHER CHILDREN SO THAT THEY CAN BE THE SOLE FOCUS. 

Ouch. My head spun. My gut ached.

* That's a thing - NEED A FAMILY WITH NO OTHER CHILDREN. During the process, we got that response a lot when reaching out about various sibling pairs. Unfortunately this little office that was handling the boys' case heard the boys' request to be placed with a large family and they said OK, HERE YOU GO. The boys wanted to be with a big family because they were raised in a drug den with 7 kids total. All really young. Harry was the oldest and he was 7. Why hadn't Indiana opted to match the boys with what they needed NOT what they wanted? 

Coach and I pressed onward. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Separate, real-time, unrelated issue:  My in laws, who I've mentioned here before, drive me nuts. They think they're the spiritual advisor that each of us is just begging to have intercede for us. I used to call my MIL to fill her in on what the kids are up to. I stopped after the email a few years ago:  we needed to be reading the catechist regularly. We needed to be sure each college kid had one at school and was reading it regularly. Birth control was a sin. Their own good friends thought they'd done everything right since they'd sent their kids to Catholic school. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IMPLIES, THAT THOSE OF US WHO AREN'T SENDING OUR KIDS TO CATHOLIC SCHOOL ARE NOT DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT.

At any rate, they are maddening. For 25 years, Coach has basically instructed me to hold my tongue. My voice won't do any good. They're set in their ways. BUT I'm no sheep. And for 25 years that has driven me insane. Coach now sees the error of his ways, but the damage has been done. I've told him that I will no longer be responsible for my responses to them. I will not seek his permission to share my thoughts. 

As for me, I don't find the pandemic to be the least bit political. It's a pandemic. Vaccinate. Hope it gets better. Enough. My in-laws disagree DRASTICALLY.

They sent about 10 emails yesterday. How the covid vaccine can do such and such to adolescent males. How this atheist is now a Christian because of such and such. I don't read the articles. This is just from the titles.

Finally I replied to all:  

IS THERE AN UNSUBSCRIBE BUTTON ON THESE? PLEASE. 

My SIL responded later:  down at the bottom of the page. She was referring to the unsubscribe on the articles which was not what I needed. These articles didn't arrive in my email directly. They come from Thing 1 and Thing 2. 

I was tempted to leave FIL email address in
 here and urge all of you to forward him
crap that would drive him up a wall.
 Think leftist, liberal stuff.

I was like, HUH? Nope. I'm referring to opting out of their emails. She was like, OH, IT'S CALLED THE DELETE BUTTON. I just don't get why no one can tell them to stop. 

Not sure if my in laws got my message, but if I get another unwelcome email forwarded to me from them I think I'm going to have to call them up and have words. Not sure what it is about me. A character flaw? But I don't like to pretend that I'm OK being pushed around or preached to. I have a strong faith. Back the hell off. And we don't have to practice our faith the same way. I don't tell you how to be a good follower.

Friends, 

Think end of your rope. What would you do? Admittedly when life becomes stressful their crap really gnaws at me. But I feel I've been quiet too long. Open to suggestions.

a helluva way to mend ties with a neighbor and bullet points of issues (PLURAL)

Pace yourself here. It's long. I know. I don't intend for you to read it all at once. I'm posting again tomorrow and again on Thursday, I don't blame you if you wait to comment. It's a lot. You might not even finish all of it this week. No hard feelings. It's a lot of info, but I'm trying to catch you up. 

Harry learning how to use tape to make
 cool designs with chalk - he's playing
 with a neighbor across the
street who is in his class.

So very sorry I didn't share with you as we've gone through the process, but it didn't seem fitting at the time. Too hopeful and jinx-ish, if you get me.

* August 20th the boys had physicals at our pediatrician's office. I'd called in advance to let them know some of the boys' history. They reached out to the boys' social work office in Indiana and asked for medical records. I asked for a medical file. Jo, the boys' worker, told me that she couldn't share it because it had info about their biological parents. 

Me:  who the hell cares? You think I have time to flip through that huge file to see what those people were like?

At the appointment, I had no file and the doctor's office NEVER received it. The doc was frustrated. As was I. THEY WOULD BE WITH US FOR ABOUT 8 WEEKS BEFORE I FINALLY GOT A COPY OF THEIR MEDICAL FILE. THIS HAPPENED AFTER I SENT AN EMAIL TO JO AND JO'S BOSS DEMANDING A COPY OF IT. I LET THEM KNOW HOW COMPLETLEY UNACCEPTABLE IT WAS THAT I DIDN'T HAVE ONE. 

I told the pediatrician what meds they took and I asked her if they could refill them. She said she couldn't. I'd have to take them to a psychiatrist.

First time I'd heard this. I had a top notch therapist, whose waiting list we'd just gotten off of. The pediatrician gave me a list of psychiatrists to call. The therapist made some recommendations. 

Riddle me this:  how did Indiana send us the boys and not let me know in advance that they'd need a psychiatrist? (um, that word sucks to type).

This is a few of their pill,
 but not all of them. It looks
 like we are running a pharmacy.

* The boys were on quite a few meds. My worker, Alice, came to check on the boys a few times a month per the contract. She informed me that the meds they were on were pretty heavy hitting drugs. When we ran out of a medication, initially I had my pharmacy call Indiana's pharmacy to get a refill. Then one day, Jo let me know that the Indiana doctor wouldn't call in any more refills. I started to sweat.

* I had yet to find a psychiatrist. And that was taking up so much of my time. I heard things like WE HAVE OPENINGS IN DECEMBER. or NO LONGER TAKING NEW PATIENTS. or WE ONLY SEE PATIENTS OVER THE AGE OF 13. I could NOT believe how long it took people to respond to me, or how many times I never got a call back at all. 

I accidentally called a psychologist one day. She was very nice. I needed a doc who could prescribe meds, this wasn't going to work. I told her how that it was our hope that one day they wouldn't need this much medication. The doc told me that most likely some of the medications were overkill. The system does that to be sure that a kid has enough meds to keep him chill so that his behavior doesn't ramp up and cause him to lose his foster placement. She gave me another number to try. No go.

* All you can eat. The boys' appetites were sometimes larger than Coach's. It was a sight to see. Most likely a result of their background. It was pure disfunction. I'd give them a healthy portion of a meal and they'd woof it down and ask for more before I'd even sat down. I started asking them to wait until we'd all eaten our first helping. They did. Then they wanted more, and more, and sometimes more. After a few weeks of this, I finally cut them off after two helpings. I offered applesauce or more salad or bread and butter. They were eating more than they needed, trust me. I wasn't starving anyone, but good grief we could've sat there and watched them eat until they vomited.

As with so much of this, unscripted. Winging it. Hoping for the best. 

* Adding the boys to our insurance was another headache. Coach's company said we could add them, but getting the insurance peeps to figure it out was another thing. They kept emailing Coach saying they needed a copy of an adoption certificate. Um, that won't be available for about 6 months. This confused them. I finally told Coach to send me the email. It was time for Big Mama to step up to the plate. Watch out insurance-run-around people, I'm not here to play. I told guy #1 to grab his supervisor and I'd give him the 411 on the deal. That guy was like WELL, WE NEED A CERTIFICATE. I told Coach to reach back out to the owner. 

The same woman that left Coach a voicemail in a nasty-ass, tired-of-you, not-about-to-help you tone, called him back. Mr. Owner had gotten through to her loud and clear. Figure it the hell out. When she called back she was nothing but sweetness and how-can-we-help. In reality, Mr. Owner wasn't pulling any extra strings. Coach's work covers what we were doing. They just needed nudging. So wrong. 

Why was everything so hard? Remember earlier in the summer, I'd already gone round and round about the school about their grade. I'd said THESE BOYS ARE NO WAY GOING TO BE READY FOR 4TH AND 5TH - THEY JUST FINISHED 1ST AND 2ND. PUT THEM IN 3RD AND 4TH AS WE AGREED. I DON'T CARE WHAT STATE LAWS SAY. THEY ARE THE EXCEPTION, NOT THE NORM. NOT ONLY WERE THEY ILL-PREPARED ACADEMICALLY, THEY WERE STUNTED EMOTIONALLY AND SOCIALLY. 

Funny aside:  When I was on the phone with the vice principal, Harry came running inside to say a lady on the driveway wanted to talk to me. I grimaced. I peeked outside and saw that it was Jane, the neighbor that hasn't spoken to me since Tank was about 10. The one who yelled at me, claiming I'd told everyone that her kid had issues or something. That never happened. Turned out she was really upset that Tank had been invited to a friend's lake house and her kid hadn't. It set off a shit storm. 

The woman standing on my driveway was Jane. She hasn't been friendly to me in probably about 9 years. I cringed, thinking the boys had ridden their bikes on her lawn (something we kept explaining was not really done in polite society - use the dang sidewalk). I was ready to get an earful. I asked the vice principal to please hold. Then I waved to Jane and sort of motioned to the phone at my ear like - I HAVE TO TAKE THIS CALL, Jane waved and said:  I HAVE A COUPLE OF BAGS FULL OF CLOTHES THAT A FRIEND GAVE ME. WONDERING IF THE BOYS CAN USE IT. 

You could've dressed me up in little boy clothes and dipped me in shit and I would've been less surprised as I was by this. For real. It was a moment. I managed to say, SURE, THAT WOULD BE VERY APPRECIATED. She marched down to her house in the culdesac and came back with said bags of high end clothing. 

* I finally bit the bullet and got the boys appointments with a psychiatrist who my friend who also adopted recommended. This woman, Dr. Bernie, was on the list from the pediatrician. I didn't want to use her because she charged $400 for the first 2 hour appointment. Each kid would need a 2 hour appointment. She also didn't mess with insurance. I could submit receipts, but I wouldn't be getting an insurance discount. I just chalked it up to another expense with this whole ordeal. They probably wouldn't need to be seen often - not like the therapist, which is every week. 

Once I zoomed with the psychiatrist, I loved her. Sweet, caring, patient woman, Dr. B. I joked with my friend that I'd pay $400 for this doc to chat with me for 2 hours on the regular. Totally worth it. Have I mentioned that I'm a chatty Kathy? I also joked with this friend, that I felt I owed her LOTS of backpay for all the 2 hour 'sessions' when I'd unloaded on her and she hadn't billed me. She assured me that as an introvert, she'd rather listen than speak. 

Am I alone or is talking soothing to anyone else, like she wasn't even my therapist, she was just asking me about how the boys ended up with us, etc. - especially  talking to sweet older women with a wrinkled forehead out of concern and total interest and focus and a delightful accent, I think she's from the Philippines. 

grad party, vacation, college drop off in 1 week, some meltdowns & PHOTOS

Remember when I went to the party at Aunt Leprechaun's lake house and there was no party? Well, that was the DAY befor
e I was leaving to live in a hotel with the boys. I HAD SO MUCH TO DO - MAKE MEALS FOR AT HOME AND TO TAKE ALONG, PACK STUFF FOR THEM TO DO, LEAVE LISTS FOR MY KIDS SO THEY KNEW WHAT TO DO WHEN I WAS GONE, ETC. 

Can I get a NO WONDER THAT WASTED TRIP MADE YOU LOSE YOUR MIND amen?

We plugged along with the boys showing them the ropes here. Coach and I divided and conquered to read with them daily. Our kids took turns listening to them read, too. It wasn't their favorite thing (the boys or my kids), but we made it work. Once Mini called out:  OK, WHO WANTS TO READ WITH THEIR FAVORITE SISTER? I laughed. 

Getting pasta made for
 the big party. Never dull.

They wrote in their journals, responding to prompts I gave them, and as we got busier doing fun things the prompts became "TODAY, I . . . " - and they responded with what they'd done.

Mini decorated the dry erase board
 with a caricature of Tank.
She had a big fan
observe her every move
- to the right.

Saturday, August 7th we hosted Tank's grad party and introduced the boys to relatives. We were a tad nervous. This might end badly. We'd dealt with some meltdowns along the way. We also wondered if they might feel overwhelmed. They had an absolute blast though, playing nonstop. They started to meltdown when at long last we called them in to get ready for bed. I gave Coach an OH SHIT look - as in, here we go.

We gave them 15 more minutes. That helped, but we still got attitude when we finally pulled the plug. I pointed to the clock and then to the bedtime routine listed on the fridge, which had become a necessary visual after some bedtime fits by Larry (the younger and typically better behaved guy). 

Me:  ACCORDING TO THIS, WE LET YOU STAY UP PAST YOUR BEDTIME, BECAUSE IT WAS A PARTY. NOW  YOU NEED TO GET SHOWERED AND READY FOR BED. ALL THE COUSINS YOU WERE JUST PLAYING WITH ARE LEAVING THE PARTY BECAUSE THEY NEED TO GO HOME TO BED TOO. 

While Harry was in the shower, I took down the globe in the boys' room and showed Larry where my brother, Pat, was. He and his family were in Ireland. They took a plane across an ocean, etc. We looked at other places, like Florida, which is where Debbie had just gone on vacation when I hung out with them at the hotel. 

The globe cast a spell on him and the bedtime concept no longer set him off. Bullet dodged. 

The older boys drove separate
and weren't there the whole time.
This is Reg flipping kids
 off of his shoulders. 

Sunday - as in the day AFTER we hosted a party - we left for vacation to a house near the beach in South Haven, Michigan for 4 days. I'm not gonna lie - it was a great time. We had a blast. The kids enjoyed hanging out on the beach. At one point, Coach and I stood at the edge of the water and watched our 6 kids tossing Harry and Larry in the air, putting them on their shoulders, and jumping in the waves together. We were in awe. It was something to behold.

How many kids can fit in a hot tub? This was
 a big hit at the last minute rental house.
 We'd hoped to do a short vacay, but it
was tough to find a place to work with our dates.
Someone must've cancelled this Airbnb
last minute. Score. It was perfect for us.  

Back home Wednesday, we switched gears and packed Tank for college. We left with him on Friday. If you are noticing a pattern of HOW CRAZY A WEEK THIS STRETCH WAS, then you aren't missing a thing.

Thursday, the night before we drove Tank, Coach was at work. I made chicken tacos for dinner. Tank and I scheduled one hour to review stuff on his list and get everything ready for the car. Between his jobs and his friends, he is hard to nail down. Harry didn't like the chicken tacos. We'd had them before and he did OK with them. Instead of eating them this night, he kept swiveling his head watching Larry enjoy his dinner. It made Harry crazy. As if Larry eating well was making him look bad. He wouldn't even try a bite. 

Finally I called out:  HEY REG, WHY DON'T YOU HAVE LARRY (who was done eating) GO PICK OUT MOVIES TO BRING IN THE CAR. I THINK WHOEVER EATS WELL CAN WATCH A MOVIE WHILE WE DRIVE.

Harry had been fighting with me about dinner for so long, that movie idea suddenly got his attention. 

Harry:  CAN WE MAKE A DEAL? IF I EAT HALF MY TACO CAN I WATCH A MOVIE IN THE CAR? 

I agreed. 

Understand, I'd already offered to re-heat it.  He'd wasted so much of my time. I was frustrated. I'd already told him he wasn't going back outside to play after dinner. It was shower and bed for him. I knew he could eat that dinner as he had before. It wasn't necessarily his favorite, but that's the way it goes. He thought that since he FINALLY ate a few bites, he could go outside, etc. I was like NOPE. GAME OVER. 

I sent him up to shower and go to bed and he screamed and hollered at me,  interfering with my ONE HOUR with Tank. Tank was not having it. He walked into Harry's room and screamed in his face to get in bed. Pretty sure that's not an approved method for these two boys, but at this point I needed to get ready to leave in the morning. The girls were staying home with Ed and Reg. It would be Tank and the boys and Coach and I in the minivan for 6.5 hours. We were waking up early. I was at the end of my rope. 

The college drop off went fine, but Tank's anxiety made him a little on edge. He barked at the boys as we set up the room. Tank's roomie wasn't there yet. When he arrived, the boys blabbed the stuff you don't share:  THIS BED HAS A BROKEN LEG, IT WIGGLES - SO WE SWTICHED TANK'S MATTRESS TO THAT ONE. OH, WE MOVED THE FRIDGE OVER THERE SO IT'S NOT ON TANK'S SIDE. 

They weren't picking up on our facial cues to shut the pie hole. Ah well. They had a few things to learn. 

Token Dwight tapestry.

Coach and I ended up knowing SO MANY people in town dropping off kids at Creighton. My sister, Marie, texted me - her college roomie who lives in Colorado was there. I texted her and we planned to meet. I hadn't seen her since Marie's wedding like 27 years ago. We had more invites to go hang out at a bar then we EVER get when at home. 

I urged Coach to go out with his college buddy after we got the boys to bed in the hotel. I was SO tired from the week we'd had that I honestly couldn't move. Coach took a pass.

 Just before we fell into what felt like a coma sleep, I told Coach:  YOU KNOW THERE ARE PEAKS AND VALLEYS TO THIS PROCESS. I'M DEFINITELY FEELING LIKE I'M IN A VALLEY HERE. WE APPEAR TO BE ABOUT THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO BROUGHT A 9 AND 10 YEAR OLD TO COLLEGE DROP OFF. UGH. WHAT HAVE WE DONE? WHEN WE COME BACK FOR FAMILY WEEKEND, WE ARE GOING TO GO OUT WITH FRIENDS AND LEAVE THE BIG KIDS HERE TO BABYSIT. 

Stay tuned:  tomorrow I'll try to share some bullet points. There are some rough times ahead.

THEY'RE HERE, unscripted, & a few of the funniest moments

Relieved that these faces that I made
on their photo aren't creepy.
Their hair had
grown in since their
 not-allowed-visit haircuts.

Their first night, I made their favorite dinner, pizza casserole. My mom brought over a bundt cake, from Nothing Bundt Cakes, to welcome them. The next day a dear friend brought over another bundt cake. I've never been more sad to have celiac disease. We took them on a bike ride after dinner to wear them out a little, shot some hoops, and got them ready for bed. Coach had repaired the bunkbed, so all was good. 

I just found this pic of
what the top bunk
looked like when it was
broken. We'd pushed
the mattress part back
 into place sort of. 

Just before that bike ride (Coach and I walked - it was  just around the block), I told them I was busy working on Tank's grad video for his upcoming Aug 7th party and when I was done I'd show it to them. I knew they'd enjoy it. 

Larry:  ARE WE GOING TO BE HERE FOR TANK'S GRAD PARTY.

Me:  YES.

Harry:  ARE WE GOING TO LIVE WITH YOU FOREVER?

Me:  THAT'S THE PLAN.

Harry (responded in a blink, no hesitation):  WHAT IF THE PLAN CHANGES?

Me:  WELL, WE'LL JUST HAVE TO WORK TOGETHER TO MAKE SURE THAT IT DOESN'T CHANGE.

Hello, unscripted. We knew there was a 6 month trial period, but the boys probably didn't know that. How could they? Too much stress. I had no idea if I'd said the right thing ON THE SPOT. As we walked Coach and I spoke to each other with our eyebrows and eyeballs and all other facial-twisty parts. I was unaware so much could be said with our facial expressions.

It translated to:  HOLY CRAP? DID I SAY THAT RIGHT? YEAH, GOOD JOB. DID YOU SEE HOW FAST HE ASKED THAT QUESTION? SHEESH, THIS IS HEAVY. 

The next day the boys met with the tutor in the morning. Hello, hit the ground running. Have I mentioned that they were over 2 years behind in school? At 8 and 10 years of age last year, they'd been in 1st and 2nd grade in Indiana. Oh, also I realize that I left out that the time we had them here for the unapproved visit in May, I asked the school to let them tour the school. The school was like SORRY NO VISITORS DURING COVID. 

I laced up me boxin' gloves.

I was not asking them to walk around for hours and not wear a mask. These weren't mainstream kids moving into the neighborhood who wondered what color their gym was. These kids suffered from anxiety and it was our hope that our wonderful district would show them around briefly so that they'd have a visual and be less freaked out. I ended up calling the superintendent and the school agreed to let the boys have a brief tour just before I drove them back to Debbie. 

Note:  I had an understanding with the former superintendent. He and I were on the same page. I'd spoken to him when the school stuck Tank in a lunch with no peers because he was in special ed for math, etc. I was not thrilled to have to work my magic on a new guy, but old habits die hard and I got him to see the light.

I digress, back to their first day:  I brought the boys to the pool in the afternoon. They were in heaven. The next day, back to the pool and we went to Kohls and bought socks. Turns out I can't handle crap socks and crap shoes that are several sizes to small. We were at the mall by the 3rd day buying new shoes. I stopped in my tracks when I realized the boys weren't behind me anymore. Turns out, they didn't know how to approach the escalator. Goodness. 

Hmm, if only I had
a colored pencil.

Day to day:  Harry was putting up a fight about eating fruit. Larry would occasionally refuse to go to bed. We dealt with their stuff, but things seemed to be moving along just fine. I joked with my friends:  THE LENGTHS I WILL GO TO IN ORDER TO SPEND TIME CHILLING AT THE POOL AGAIN - only now, I had to be sure not to nap. These guys were not great swimmers.

Remember my school supply post? It might make more sense now - I was shopping for these boys too, and the shelves were empty. I was thrilled to find so much stuff in our basement.

A few funny stories I've been DYING to tell you:

1.  At the week long, not-spa stay at the hotel, I asked the front desk why my room wasn't getting cleaned. They were like:  OH, WELL YOU HAVE TO ASK NOWADAYS TO HAVE IT CLEANED. 

Me:  OH, OK, WELL WE'RE HERE ALL WEEK, SO PLEASE ADD US TO THE NEED-TO-BE-CLEANED ROOMS.(I was very nice, although that's not coming across here). 

We left the room. When I got back there was a note from the cleaning staff. It read:  WE CHANGED PILLOWCASES AND WE CLEANED THE SINK AREA (or something to that effect) AND WE PUT YOUR GRANDSONS' TOOTHBRUSHES IN PLASTIC ICE BAGS SO THEY WOUDLN'T GET CLEANING CHEMICALS ON THEM.

GRANDSONS? 

I texted a photo of the note to Coach along with: So that's what we look like, or at least that's what I look like, a GRANDMA. What have we done?

2. About a week after the boys arrived, Tank came downstairs in the morning and was like: 

Back in Feb we rearranged
 Lad and Ed's room.

 UM, WE HAD A BIT OF A SITUATION LAST NIGHT. I GOT UP TO PEE AROUND 2 AM AND I FORGOT WHAT ROOM I WAS SLEEPING IN. I ENDED UP GETTING IN HARRY'S BED. AND I FELL ASLEEP THERE UNTIL I HEARD HIM ARGUING WITH LARRY. I GUESS SINCE I FELL ASLEEP PRACTICALLY ON TOP OF HIM, HE WENT UP

We bought a mattress for the extra bed.

THE LADDER TRYING TO GET INTO THE TOP BUNK BECAUSE HE WANTED TO SLEEP WITH LARRY. I WOKE UP WHEN I HEARD THEM ARGUING AND WENT BACK TO MY NEW ROOM. OOPS.

I was like WTF? I let Tank know I was not buying it:  UM, I DON'T THINK FOR A MINUTE THAT YOU GOT UP TO PEE. I THINK YOU GOT PICKED UP TO GO TO A GRAD PARTY LAST NIGHT AND THEN WHEN YOU GOT DROPPED OFF AROUND 2 AM YOU FELL ASLEEP IN YOUR OLD BUNK BECAUSE YOU WERE DRINKING ADULT BEVERAGES AT SAID GRAD PARTY. 

I bought the extra bed frame at a garage sale
 FOREVER AGO. It freakishly matched
 the other two boy beds in that room with
lockers that were gifted to us by two
 different families a long time ago. They
 weren't even from the same manufacturers, but
 they looked incredibly similar. I stuck
 the frame in the basement in case we ever
 felt one boy needed his own room-
then we'd have 3 beds to match in the
 ginormous room. Adoption was no where
 near my radar. I was just totally aware
the boys would want matching furniture.
OK, I liked matching furniture, Silly. 

Tank (with a shrug):  UM, WELL. I HAVE TO PRACTICE FOR COLLEGE.

Me:  NO YOU DON'T NEED TO PRACTICE DRINKING FOR COLLEGE. PRACTICE DOING YOUR OWN LAUNDRY MAYBE. 

Fortunately the boys found the 'TANK FORGOT WHAT BED HE SLEEPS IN BECAUSE THIS USED TO BE HIS BED' story funny. DCS was not alerted that a brother tried to sleep with one of them. Sheesh. Can you imagine? 

The next night when I put them to bed, Tank wandered in and pretended he was tired and was going to get into the bottom bunk. His performance received high marks from Harry and Larry. Life with Mr. Funny guy. 

That's all I got for this week. Busy baking and cooking for our tailgate at Ed's college. And dealing with a new kid getting dropped off at the daycare, because while all of THIS was happening, nothing will just stand still. As much as I begged it to. More next week. Enjoy your weekend. 

a John Hancock, welcome to the **** show, & 'the' call (new bits since yesterday)

* I was going to post this yesterday, but in the interest of HOLY LONG POST, BATMAN . . . I broke the post up in two pieces . . . here is piece two along with a funny video that relates to yesterday's post. Introducing ticklish Mini:

Another thing that happened while in our not-a-spa hotel room in June:  I was trying to get Harry to eat fruit. He'd not been exposed to fruit before entering foster care, and after he spent over a year with Debbie in foster care - still wasn't expected to eat fruit. Larry hadn't eaten fruit either, but he soon discovered a love for strawberries. Larry would also eat apples and he'd try just about anything. On all of our visits to them, we'd packed some fruit for lunches so that they began to grasp that this was part of a healthy way of eating.

At the hotel, I gave Harry the choice of what fruit he would eat at lunch. I gave him an incredibly small portion. One day I discovered that he'd put his fruit in the pocket of his shorts and told me that he'd eaten them. When I discovered it, we talked about lying and the importance of telling the truth. I asked him if anyone had ever lied to him and how that made him feel.

Harry:  Yeah, my parents lied to me. They told me that they'd see me again. 

In case you are just joining, or in case I haven't shared - the boys went into foster care and for about 6 months, I think, they still had visitation with parents, when they showed up. Ultimately the mom and the dad voluntarily signed off to terminate their parental rights. Of course this was the right thing to do, since neither were in a position to care for their children.

Well. Harry said this through tears. He and I both cried. I hugged him and told him how sad that made me feel. I validated his feelings, but that didn't feel like enough.

Also, the boys laughed or something at one point and I commented on how much metal/wire was up in their mouths. 

Larry:   Yeah, our parents didn't buy us toothbrushes, so we had to brush our teeth with our fingers. They could've gotten us back. They just had to fix the stuff they were doing wrong, but they didn't fix anything so they can't get us back. 

Coach and boys messing around in the
non-spa, unheated hotel pool. That's
my toe - happy to stay far away
 from the unheated pool.

He said it so matter of fact. I don't think that made it hurt any less. I'm sure that they were told this in therapy so they would understand that it wasn't their doing, etc. Harry still struggled with guilt. He blamed himself for them going into care. Debbie said that when the dad visited him he told Harry that it was his fault. That's a lot to carry around as a kid. 

Tip of the iceberg. 

 JULY:  As soon as I got back from Arizona in early July, I started constantly asking Jo when we might be able to pick up the boys. Indiana was waiting for a guy to sign the contract, and that guy went on vacation and no one knew when he would be back. 

I can't make this stuff up. 

I hatched a plan with Jo and Debbie. If we got word that we could come get them, we would drop everything and come. When we drove Ed back to school mid August, we would get the rest of their stuff then. 

Late morning on July 21st, 

Jo called and told me we could come pick them up. 

Contract (that our worker said was one of the worst contracts ever. She apologized that she couldn't get them to budge on anything) was signed. I called Coach. He shuffled a few patients around, stopped home for a lunch I'd packed for him,  and started driving. 

Coach and Larry
racing on scooters.

I stayed home and rid the house, particularly the upstairs, of the WELCOME TO THE SHIT SHOW vibe that we were dealing with. We figured it might be nice if we lead with more of a WELCOME HOME feeling. 

Coach said the pick up wasn't easy. The boys were upset. Larry wouldn't get out of Debbie's car. The boys later told us that Debbie had complained openly that she didn't have enough time to gather their stuff. I'd spoken to her a few days prior and told her that we'd grab them last minute, if that was OK with her. She said SURE  -she'd start packing. 

Me:  Anything of theirs that's kind of beat up, you can toss. I have a bunch of Reg's old clothes saved, and I like to shop, so we'll fill in wherever they need stuff.

Debbie: She's is raising a 3 year old granddaughter because her daughter flaked out. She has a very messed up back and needs surgery. She was in constant pain. Coach even looked at her x-rays to see if he had another opinion. He's helped many people avoid surgery. He looked at her x-rays and was like, NOPE. GO UNDER THE KNIFE. Additionally, she was also going through a divorce and she works full time. She wasn't hoping to keep the boys any longer than necessary. They were tight with her. As much as we knew they wanted to live with us, this was going to be tough. She was the first person who ever cared for them in their lives, but she was not an adoptive parent. Who knows what they were told the last few days as we were begging Indiana to sign stuff and let us bring them to Chicago.

I was bummed that she'd told me she was poised and ready to move them quickly. She admitting that she was ready to move them along, and was barely sleeping because of her back, etc. Why put a negative spin on it for the boys? 

Curly playing with boys at the beach
 4th of July weekend - just
before the fire alarm.

They hadn't opened a book all summer and were stuck at her sister's house during Debbie's work hours. The sister was a grouch, according to the boys. They had nothing to do at her house. We were like DANG, LET'S GET THEM HERE AND HAVE THEM MEET THE NEIGHBOR KIDS BEFORE SCHOOL, PRACTICE READING, GO TO THE POOL, PLAY BASKETBALL, GET ON A DECENT SCHEDULE, ETC.

Let me point out one thing here:  WE WEREN'T EXCITED TO GET THEM BECAUSE WE WERE ALL GOING TO HUG IT OUT AND ALL THEIR TROUBLES WOULD GO AWAY. WE WANTED TO GET THEM SO WE COULD DIVE IN AND GET STARTED AT THE TOUGH ROAD THAT LAY AHEAD. THERE WAS WORK TO BE DONE, AND I'M NOT ONE TO PROCRASTINATE. PLUS, I DON'T WORK IN THE SUMMER.

Are you ready for the next chapter . . . the boys living here? If you had people move into your house (even if you knew they were coming and you could only control so much because of SO MANY BODIES) would you describe your place as SHIT SHOW or WELCOME HOME? 

a b-day, &falling on deaf ears: edited down

Because life continues while I try to catch you up on the adoption journey, I must share this before I proceed: 

Inside the flap it reads: 
 Now Lad has a brother.
Hello, let's not gloss
over the cute photo.

In my former life, I made cards. This was
 before the internet offered
 cards cheap and fast.
 

Note:  I drew the pumpkin and fence on each card before mailing it out. There's a lift the flap here . . .see 2nd photo. I cut everything out with an exacto knife. Let's not talk about how long it took me to get the words on the back of that flap to line up on the cards before I printed them.

1. Today, 10/18th Eddie turns 21. 

This kid is a gem. He's incredibly responsible. He owns his mistakes. (I can barely do that now, let alone when I was in college). He works his butt off. He's the risk manager for his fraternity, because as a freshman they all recognized his 'dad' like quality. He says it like it is and isn't afraid to say what needs to be said. He's a loyal friend and amazing brother. And mostly, he's always in my corner and enjoys spending time with me (assuming none of his buddies are available). We are all going to his school on the 23rd (Lolo's wedding day - Woot woot! Suz's daughter) to tailgate for a game. *Lad just said he might not be able to get off work. Grr. 

Inside the card . . . my photos
are off topic a tad,
 feeling nostalgic here with
 the homemade
birth announcement.

2. Mini makes too much ear wax. 

PRESENT DAY:  I'd never even heard of such a thing, but now I wonder if it's a trait from Coach's side and if this might explain why he sometimes doesn't hear me.

Anyway, she has to get her ear wax vacuumed out four times a year. Her last appointment was in the summer, I told her to put a reminder in her phone so we weren't trying to score an appointment in the 11th hour when she'd suddenly become deaf. That's what happens. The wax gets so bad that she essentially becomes deaf. 

Shocker:  she never put a reminder in her phone. 

Last week, she came home from school and said that her wax had gotten bad. I stood in my kitchen and tried to remember what month it was, how long ago our last appointment had been, etc. 

Thank you, hectic life of late for allowing me to lose track of EVERYTHING. Can't even blame covid. 

Mini (speaking really LOUDLY):  I rubbed at the side of my ear and I guess I made it all get stuck together because now I can't hear. 

Me (shaking my head):  I told you to keep track.

Mini: WHAT?

Me: (eye roll - reaching for the phone to see when we could get her in).

Over the next few days, Coach and I would be in the middle of some pretty deep conversations about some adoption related issue. How should we handle this? How would this play out?

Enter Mini, unaware of a conversation, let alone a heavy conversation, speaking loudly about something like:  OH MY GOSH, TODAY IN CLASS  . . . IT WAS SO FUNNY. or HEY, CAN SOMEONE DRIVE REG IN THE MORNING BECAUSE I WAS SORT OF HOPING . . . 

Me:  MINI, WE WERE TALKING.

Mini:  OH SORRY. I CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING.

Nothing like a little comic relief while we were stressed out. 

+++++++++++++++

I woke up this morning and decided that I'd made this post INSANELY long . . . Nicole was a brave soul and still read it and commented, but I've edited it to put the next half up for tomorrow. Trying to think of the people who might not want to come back here if they don't have time for crazy-ass-long posts. And I don't blame them. 

June: not-quite-spa week long getaway

During a team meeting in early June, Jo casually mentioned that Debbie was going on vacation the end of June. The boys would go to respite care for the week. They said these things as if Coach and I were not their soon-to-be parents. We were like, WAIT WHY CAN'T THEY JUST COME HERE?

Jo:  No, the paperwork isn't complete. The boys can't cross state lines.

Us:  MAKE AN EXCEPTION. THIS IS CRAZY. THEY SHOULD BE HERE. WE WERE TOLD APRIL. THIS IS JUNE.

This was the kitchen. I had to keep
 filling up the cooler with ice.
 No space in the tiny fridge. 

No exception would be made and Coach and I started to consider staying with them in a hotel just over the border of Indiana in Merrillville. So that's what we did. It makes me tired right now to think about how we pulled that off. I made a butt load of meals. Packed a cooler and a couple of boxes full of other food. Some meals were for this house and some were for the hotel. I brought books and journals and beach stuff and scooters so they could come on walks/runs with me. 

OMG how they loved the beach
and playing in the waves.

We took them to the beach twice that week. On our first visit, the water was off limits because of rip tides. Coach handed them the bag of buckets and was like JUST PLAY IN THE SAND AND NEXT TIME WE CAN PLAY IN THE WATER. Larry looked at him blankly:  I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO?

They'd never been to the beach. 

Coach took a few days off that week and he drove back and forth to work from Merrillville and I stayed the entire time. Curly came back with Coach for the 4th of July weekend. Remember the hotel fire alarm getting pulled? Well, we had two boys to corral while Curly tried to escape, gripping her air mattress. 

Mini helping Larry
watch fireworks.

At least by now I was smart, whenever I called a hotel to make a reservation, I asked IS IT TWO SEPEARTE ROOMS? It was. The mini kitchen was a joke. It was a microwave and a tiny fridge. I'd pictured more of a full size fridge and a stove top, etc. Like an actual mini kitchen - not a college dorm room. The hotel had an outdoor pool. That was the selling feature for me. At least we had something to do on the days when Coach was gone with the car. I'm shuddering trying to recall how I survived. 

I made them read a ton every day. Plus they wrote journal entries. Then we did fun stuff. Pool most days. When Coach was there with the car, we drove to parks and played basketball. I went for walks with them on scooters. At night I read Misty of Chincoteague to them. Great classic book about siblings catching a pony and entering it in a race. 

Lego central.

When we did our learning stuff, I took on a squeaky voice and called myself Mrs. Peabody. Mrs. Peabody's motto:  PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT. They found it hysterical. I tried to keep things fun. Oh, and we brought buckets of Legos and some other toys and coloring books. 

I guess this is as close to a summer house as I will ever get. Not close. It was a crap hotel with a crap excuse for a kitchen and a bathroom with a door that was tough to open and close all the way. The place had a weight room and each morning we would go downstairs and eat the complimentary breakfast and haul some weights up to our room. I carved out space in the bedroom to do my FB videos while they played in the other room. Then we'd venture back down to the workout room to return the weights. 

Curly practicing
 for Nationals.

The boys wanted waffles for breakfast. The waffle machine was all set up but there was no batter. Our second morning, I asked the head kitchen lady if they'd have the waffle maker up and running at some point. People, this woman was a saint. She went to a neighboring hotel - like I said, she was the kitchen boss lady but little did I know that she was in charge of more than one hotel kitchen. She brought the boys back waffles and then she got the waffle maker going for the next morning and every morning after. How great is a kind person who goes that extra mile?

Screenshot of our
 makeup lesson on duo.

One night I sat in the lobby while the boys were in bed and Coach was in our room. I did a duo call with the girls as our family friend came and gave them a tutorial on how to do Curly's makeup at National Championships. The girls recorded the lesson on an iPad and Mini took notes. The day after I returned from Merrillville, Curly and I flew to Arizona. 

Yep, definitely tired just thinking back on it. 

signs you've outgrown a bunk bed and a sneak visit

Well, finally a funny bit. Not gut splitting, just comical:

I reached out to the boys worker, Jo ( I may have named her something else, but I'm being lazy and I'm not looking back). It was early May. We hadn't been able to visit for several weeks, maybe over a month. We did a zoom visit with them in there, but Debbie let them take her phone and they bounced around with it like they were in a bounce house. I said I wouldn't do that again. Is zoom sickness a thing?

I asked Jo if the boys could visit? I can't remember the details, but I suggested I pick them up/meet half way on a Wednesday and return them on a Friday or Saturday. Coach was heading out of town for the weekend to teach, so we thought they could come midweek and tour the school. 

Jo said no, they couldn't afford to miss school. They could come for the weekend, but I reminded her without Coach there it wouldn't work. 

NOTE:  SHE SAID THEY COULD COME, JUST NOT MID WEEK.

I reached out to Debbie, the foster mom, and said, no go. Debbie thought it was dumb. They could miss school. It was the end of their school year (they finish like mid May - what?), so there wasn't much teaching going on. She and I decided we'd work something out the following weekend. 

Tank was graduating, but we decided to make it work. Coach picked them up and for the 2nd time ever they stayed at our home. 

The night before they arrived, Reg went to bed. Ten minutes later he peeked around the corner, apparently in  his underwear. UM, MOMMY, I NEED YOUR HELP. 

Working off a little energy in
 the yard after the long drive.
How nice that this photo 
was naturally blurry. 

He'd climbed into the top bunk as usual, and the bed collapsed - into the lower bed. This was the bed that we were going to have the little boys sleep in THE NEXT NIGHT. 

Me:  HUH?   *&^%#@!**^#@#

One boy would have to sleep on a mattress on the floor and the other in the lower bunk until Coach could secure it for their second night. 

The visit went fairly well. I asked them if they wanted a haircut so they could look like Reg. They were all about it. Looking back, I probably shouldn't have cut it SO short. I motioned for my kids to be approving and they gushed about the boys' new look, then they pulled me aside and said WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? In a word, it was extreme. 

Visit to the zoo.
Pre-scalping haircut.

We left them home with Reg, who was studying for finals, when we went to Tank's grad ceremony. We didn't have tickets for everyone anyway. They weren't well behaved for Reg - claimed the movie we'd put on didn't work and begged him to play Nerf guns. We weren't pleased with them. 

During this visit they asked us if they could start to call us mom and dad. We said yes. We soon regretted it - kidding, sort of. Holy HOW MANY TIMES CAN I SAY MOMMY OR DADDY Batman? They were excited and we took that as a good sign, even as we took turns leaving the room in order to faux bang our heads on the wall. *note:  They called Debbie Mom or Mimi, so this throwing the mom word around was more like calling a female at their school 'teacher' - there wasn't a lot connected to it. Yet, but we had hope. 

The next weekend was Memorial Weekend. We invited them back. They were super excited. An hour before I was planning to leave to pick them up, Coach and I had a zoom meeting with the team. 

Jo:  OH, BY THE WAY. I SAW THE BOYS AND THEY SAID THAT YOU CUT THEIR HAIR IN CHICAGO, ERNIE. 

Me:  YEP, I DID. WHEN THEY VISITED LAST WEEKEND.

Jo:  I DIDN'T BELIEVE THEM, BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THAT VISIT AND YOU CAN'T PLAN VISITS WITHOUT ME. 

Me:  OH, SORRY. I THOUGHT SINCE YOU SAID THEY COULD VISIT THE WEEKEND BEFORE THAT WE WERE ALL GOOD. I THOUGHT THE ICPC WAS ALL DONE.

Mini and the boys, that 3rd
 kid isn't one of ours,
although the numbers are
 getting mighty high
over here and sometimes
it's hard to tell. 

Debbie:  YEAH, SORRY. MY FAULT. I THOUGHT THEY COULD JUST VISIT THERE NOW.

Jo:  EVEN THOUGH THE ICPC IS FILLED OUT, THEY CAN'T COME FOR VISITS WITHOUT A COURT ORDER *here's where we pause and notice that the weekend before she was going to let them visit without a court order, confused much?*

Me:  Well, I'm leaving in less than an hour to come and pick them up for another visit this weekend. Do you have time for a court order?

Jo:  Oh, let me find out. (pause for a moment) No, they can't visit even with a court order. They can't come this weekend. *So the time when she was going to let them visit but Coach was going out of town would've been a no-no, so she clearly didn't understand the rules either.

Jo agreed to go see the boys and explain the mix up herself because we all knew they'd be disappointed. 

We continued to pester for info on when we could move them here. We wanted time to get them adjusted over the summer when I wasn't babysitting and before school started. Sometimes things make too much sense. 

Debbie called me one day and told me that she was instructed to find childcare for the summer. I was like WHAT?! Why couldn't they just come here? Debbie is great but she was working and was solo and wasn't having them practice reading or writing. They did more screen time then they would've done here. Meanwhile I had a tutor lined up for them. Two times a week. Basketball camp. A local pool membership- the real deal, not even the racoon spa. This was so frustrating. 

More tomorrow, unless someone says - STOP, I CAN'T READ THIS ANYMORE. IT'S TOO MIND BLOWING.