I can't make this stuff up: vomit, printer derailment, broken fridge, etc.

I feel like a bad blog friend, and I'm sorry. The hectic pace of life right now is killing me. Understatement. I promise I'll get over to read your posts soon. I'm trying to stay afloat, but this week I made Rocky Road fudge bars, Peppermint ice cream cake, and I have the batter in the fridge for Chocolate Crinkle cookies. Plus I finished the ornaments I make for the tots. The older girls and I found gifts for two god children tonight (Wednesday). The rest will be gift cards. Progress. 

Tuesday night I stayed up too late to draft this post. I'd gotten my allergy shots, so I was groggy as all hell. Plus I can't sleep more than 6 hours currently - hey, 6 hours isn't all bad, but still. I'll take more sleep,  please. I wanted to go to bed. Then I realized that it was Tuesday, not Wednesday - and I was drafting a post a day early. Dummy. 

The latest: 

Saturday night, I was in my study begging my desktop to cooperate and print my envelopes. I struggle setting up mail merges. What can I say, I'm human and mail merges are angry little functions of a software that hates me for some wrong that I cannot account for. While I was in the study, a loud KABOOM happened. Everything from the study closet was falling to the floor. Guess what? The shelves ripped from the wall on one side and everything DID fall to the floor. 

Coach was good enough to move the boxes of photos and things up to our pit room. I'm hosting like 40 people for Christmas and who has time to rebuild shelves and figure stuff out? The weird thing is, this closet hasn't been recently loaded with more stuff. It's been bearing an incredibly weighty load for some time now, apparently. It just gave up. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, but I'm too exhausted to elaborate. 

Our room is pure chaos. I have bins of clothes (some from Curly, some from Aunt Leprechaun and other friends who were good enough to share hand-me-downs when the girls moved in) waiting for when the girls grow into them and I've run out of room in the basement storage room. 

Enter photo and memory storage from the study closet to the mix, and our room literally looks like we're moving, or we should consider moving. Remember, Ed uses our room as his work from home space, because no babies nap there currently. I mention this in case you'd like to add a card table butted up against my dresser in order to plug his computer into my big screen TV while he's working as part of the visual. 

Sunday evening, Coach's stomach started to hurt. He and Rae when down with a stomach bug. 

When vomit city hit, Coach opted to sleep on the floor of our room, so as not to contaminate me. Now there are blankets and sleeping bags tossed between the card table and the bins and boxes - well, it's an inviting space. Trust me. 

While Coach was writing in pain in bed after dinner awaiting the inevitable, we've all been there and it is the worst - right?, I printed off my envelopes. We'd planned to decorate the tree, but with Rae and Coach unavailable, we postponed. 

Kay was a little lost. She is a button pusher. I'll leave it at that. I was trying to organize the many photos I had printed to make the ornaments for the tots while I was camped out on the study floor feeding stacks of envelopes into the printer. 

Me:  WHY ARE WE STILL ON THE END OF THE ALPHABET? 

I paused the printing, and investigated. For some reason, that will forever frustrate me, my printer printed the same 100 addresses twice - skipping the last 150 addresses on my list. It was in the process of reprinting THE SAME addresses the 3rd time when I, a clever distracted girl, realized it. I've done mail merges many times. This was a new development. 

I had a box of extra envelopes in the study closet from a few years ago when my former ass-hole printer ate most of my envelopes. This would be the closet that recently crumbled in a jumbled mess. Can you believe that the box of extra envelopes was on a top shelf, clearly marked, unmoved by the tiny closet-quake? I printed my envelopes and went to bed crazy ass late. And when Kay arrived to argue with me about God knows what, my older kids summoned her to the family room. They knew there was a storm-a-brewing. 

I'm not crazy about the stockings. They're a bit
cheap, but they're fine. The girls were tickled
to come from from school and see that we had
new stockings that included their names. 

On Tuesday, I hung the stockings, but didn't have enough stocking holders even though I found my Target order and I purchased 2 sets of four last year. I only used 6 last year, so where were the other 2 hiding? They weren't in the bin. Did I throw them away? That seemed unlikely. 

Dec. 19th, Curly's 16th birthday - we finally decorated our tree. Most of the kids were present. 

I'm trying to forget the amount of time wasted spent trying to order another set of holders at Target. Out of stock. How far would I travel to pick some up? I didn't feel like spending $50 just to get free shipping. This was a debacle I didn't need. 

Guess what I found buried in the box of ornaments? The missing 2 stocking holders. 

Santa's workshop.

Today: I'm still frazzled. Feeling behind. But we have new stockings hung on our 8 stocking holders, the tot ornaments are wrapped and ready to distribute, and a few of the 8 (?) desserts are in my freezer for Christmas. Most importantly the puke issue didn't wipe out the entire fam. 

Oh - but wait, our set of fridge drawers in the snack bar between the family room and kitchen died. They beep incessantly unless we turn off the circuit breaker, so the family room is in hello darkness, my old friend mode. I'm hosting close to 40 people on Dec. 25th. Will the unit be repaired by then? Doubtful. Very doubtful. 

Oh, and Mini found a misspelling in my annual Christmas poem, so if you got one- please ignore it. I'm super bummed, but these things happen when you race the clock and your college kid who likes to read these things is too busy with finals to look it over before it's sent to the printer. *sigh  - the large font here? to demonstrate that I do know the difference between its and it's. 

Also, I'm tardy in thanking Engie for the lovely package filled with so many little treats. Fuzzy socks, cute notebook, great pens, hand lotions - she covered all the bases. It was so much fun to be a part of the exchange. Thanks to San for organizing and to Engie for the thoughtful gifts. 

Hard to see what these are - but they are
the tot ornaments before the
twine is attached. Mini photo collages. Most
 kids get 2, but the kids who started in
 November get 1 as I don't have as many
 photos of them. Besides, prove yourself
 worthy of two ornaments, please. 

So long as there is no more puking, I can manage anything, or so I'm telling myself that. Remember last year? I got covid 9 days before Christmas and I still hosted 36 people and made 8 million desserts. I've got this, people. 

I may have wept a bit trying to order a few online gifts yesterday morning, before I lost an appliance. I wish I had a more definite gift buying list  - one that I can stick to, and then feel done when all was bought. I don't feel done now and I doubt I'll feel done before the 25th. It'll all be fine, of course. 

I'd like to wish all of you a wonderful Christmas or whatever it is that you celebrate. I'm ever so grateful for you, my blog friends. You make me laugh, and you offer me such kindness and support. I so enjoy getting a glimpse into your world. I'm so grateful that you've chosen to connect with me. May your 2024 be filled with tons of comments, good health, and fulfilled dreams. 

Yours, 

Ernie (you might have to remind me to come back and update some of these posts when I take my blog off the privacy setting)

not sure what I'm shopping for, doc appointments x3, and wires crossed

Lad shared this photo with me of his 2
dogs to stick in the margin
of my poem. It is pretty darn cute. 

I'm a deal finder. A shopper. Need clothes? I've got 'ya. The trouble is - my bio kids do not need any freaking clothes, except Ed. He's a wardrobe extending warrior. He points out how he's had the same clothes for YEAR. New pants for him are on my radar. Mini needed business clothes for interviews. She picked some stuff out over Thanksgiving, so she knows what her gifts are. The bottom line is, I'm at a loss for what to get them. Without requests, I'm not feeling creative or overly focused on what to buy. 

I admit, I'm shopping for Kay and Rae - mostly stuff that they need, like metal water bottles, drawstring bags, overnight duffel bags, dress clothes, dress shoes, etc. I've ordered a game and a graphic novel and I bought a few of those coloring books - the nice ones with intricate designs that can soak up HOURS of time. The piles aren't equal (which is fine). I bought Curly a few tops today and I'm grumpy about it, because I feel like I'm in panic mode. Well, I AM in panic mode. I haven't bought a gift for any of our 9 god children. Deep breaths, deep breaths. 

We've talked about taking Curly, Reg, and the two newbies to Florida for spring break and putting plane tickets in their stockings. Kay and Rae have never been on a plane. But since I'm in panic mode, now there are other things under the tree which I was hoping to avoid by gifting flights, and I don't want to set ourselves up for EVERY YEAR IS A BIG CHRISTMAS WITH TRAVEL VOUCHERS, etc. for the little girls. Besides, who has time to shop for flights right now? 

Santa's workshop, aka Von Maur. I brought in
whatever packages I've purchased over the last
 week or two and had them wrapped on my
day off on Friday while I shopped for more
things. I love this complimentary service. 

I'm usually more organized than this, but November was lost to the basketball drama and the social worker interference. 

Last week I attended 3 doctor appointments. Monday:  epilepsy specialist. The man was amazing. I have a list of things to do:  bloodwork, neuro psych eval, get a copy of his MRI to send downtown, etc. Some of it will have to wait till after Christmas, see:  panic mode. 

I saw the GI for my SIBO follow up on Wednesday (more on that later) and my GP on Friday for an annual physical. 3 doc appointments this close to Christmas falls under:  it sounded like a good idea at the time. 

On Friday, I called Coach after I got my blood work done at my doc appointment. I  asked if he could grab the MRI CD from the local hospital for the epilepsy doc. I explained that he had to wait 10 minutes while they loaded it on the CD. I tried, but was unable to order in advance. They don't roll that way. He was happy to take that off my list, and he'd planned to leave work early. I was then free to head to Von Maur and get stuff wrapped, bought, etc. 

Oh, and after I left Von Maur, I realized I should've asked them to wrap one in birthday wrap. Curly's 16th is on Tuesday. Hello, exam week. All she wants for Christmas is to ace her exams. 

At home, I was confused when Coach handed me a flimsy envelope. Where was the CD? 

He'd texted me while I was shopping:  "MRI report?" 

Me:  YEP.

 Well, now he was like - "But you said YES, to the MRI report."

As in MRI report vs EEG test, not as in MRI report vs MRI CD. He hadn't grasped that this doc needs to look at the CD, not a paper report - even though I'd explained it. I felt like I was treading water. He plans to go back and do it and he didn't understand why I was upset, but I was like BECAUSE YOU COULD DO ANOTHER ERRAND FOR ME, IF YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO REPEAT THIS ONE. 

I sent my poem to the printer on Friday morning. Progress. This is the latest I've ever sent out my cards since the year Curly arrived on Dec. 19th. Her birth announcement/Christmas cards were delivered in mailboxes on Dec. 24th. 

the nerve of nit picking the babysitter

 The babysitting update:  Two new families started around November 1st. Reg didn't make the team on November 7th. I took my SIBO test Nov. 10th and had been without my antacid pills for 2 weeks. I was a hot mess.

The mom, Maggie (her kid is Brian, the tot who cried for 4.5 hours on his first day) and I really hit it off when we met. I'm  hopeful these little bumps will work themselves out. 

Maggie told me that 4.5 year old girl, Norie, doesn't like my basement. 

Me:  OK, SHE CAN PLAY IN THE FAMILY ROOM. 

*my mind:  WELL, EVENTUALLY SHE HAS TO PLAY DOWN THERE BECAUSE IT'S PART OF THE DAYCARE SPACE AND I SHARED THAT WHEN WE MET. *my basement is geared towards the 3-5 yr olds. They love it down there. It's comfortable and carpeted. 

Norie only comes on Thursdays. Brian is M,W, Th.

My gang combined with Becky's
gang at our fav forest preserve
last week when it was in the 50's.
In December!

I have 7 kids on Tuesday and that's been my busy day since mid August. Guess what? I now LOVE Tuesdays. No Brian or Norie. A relaxing day. 

At nap time the next Thursday, Norie and Caleb asked if they could play in the basement. They'd been in the family room for most of nap time. Norie assured me she wanted to go down there. 

That evening Maggie texted:  NORIE REALLY DOESN'T WANT TO PLAY DOWN THERE. SHE SAYS IT'S SCARY AND THEY PLAY DOWN THERE ALONE???

What? I texted her that Norie asked to go down there. Alone? Well, she was with Caleb and YES, THAT'S HOW IT WORKS. I'm not sitting in the basement watching them play, the same way I didn't sit in the basement and watch my own kids play. Also, it's nap time. I can find her a quiet nook, sit her on a sleeping bag with a pile of books or puzzles, and she can stay there till naps are done. There are options and I'm in charge of those options. 

This girl is a master manipulator. 

One day mid-basketball nightmare, Maggie texted:  DO YOU HAVE TIME FOR A CHAT? 

My gut was in instant knots. I wanted dreaded her latest gripe.

(she'd already pointed out that Brian hadn't eaten the apple she sent and she noticed that I hadn't cut it up. Um, everyone sends their kids' food the way they want me to serve it - so if he eats it cut , then cut it. He ate the entire thing uncut once. I've had toddlers eat fruit uncut before.)

(Our chat) Maggie:  Brian was starving when we got home. He was sobbing. So hungry. He eats a ton. He's not really eating much at your house. Here, he can go into the pantry and get food.

What? He's not gonna have access to my pantry. She told me her old sitter prepared the kids' food,. Old sitter'd ask them if they wanted mac and cheese or pb&j, etc. 

Well, Brian doesn't talk yet, so asking for meal suggestions would be interesting. Families bring their kids' food here. Comparing what I do to your former situation isn't helping. 

Bottom line:  I wanted to scream into the phone: 

IF YOUR KID IS HUNGRY, SEND MORE FOOD. 

Toddlers don't always eat what's offered. They change their minds. This woman is lovely, I promise, but she is exhausting me. 

A few weeks prior, a woman reached out to me on the FB babysitting page to see if I had space for her baby. I told her I had no openings, but to keep in touch regarding next year. I have a few kids going to kindergarten in the fall. 

I now have a waiting list. First time ever. I wanna say to Maggie:  Nit-pick  me? ME? I've been at this for 9 years. I have families that are crazy about me. I don't need any additional aggravation in my life. 

The Monday before Thanksgiving, I noticed that Maggie's husband hadn't paid me, which he does through Zelle.

I texted him:  Let me know if I missed something, but I don't see a payment from you for last week. Thanks.

Husband:  Just got out of town. Working on sending it. 

Huh? No apology? Might I suggest the standard and acceptable:  "Sorry it slipped my mind. I'll send it right now." It really doesn't matter that you just arrived out of town. I watched your kid/s Mon, Wed, and Thursday. You're 4 days late. He didn't send the payment till the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Come on. 

Do I look forward to retirement? Yep. Is retirement happening anytime soon? I've always said I'd try to make it to 10 years. Well, I'm gonna be working past that goal. 

the funny story, interviews, and what to expect when you're new to our family

This was confusing:  (this is the funny story I eluded to the other day) I was interviewed by a radio station at 6:30 am one morning two weeks ago. When I walked downstairs, Coach was in the kitchen.

Coach:  SO LAD CALLED. HE WAS INTERVIEWED THIS MORNING. HE SAID IT WENT WELL.

I froze. What now? He was interviewed? 

Coach saw the look on my face and was like WHAT? IT WASN'T A JOB INTERVIEW, JUST A CONVERSATION WITH A GUY WHO SOMEONE CONNECTED HIM WITH.

A wave of relief washed over me. I sort of had media on the brain after being on two radio shows and interviewed on two news stations so I thought Lad had been interviewed by the media. Sweet heavens, no. That cannot happen. 

*I'll come back and delete these links later, but since my blog is on private I'm sharing the links with you, my regular and wonderful readers. In the WGN live interview, I watch myself and holler:  

GO TAKE A NAP GIRLFRIEND. YOU LOOK TIRED. 

Anyway, Lad has things to say about the basketball situation. He's ready and willing to defend his brother. He's had some ideas about how to handle 'things,' shall we say. I explained my fear to Coach and he agreed after chuckling at my confusion. That would've been a disaster.

When Ed came home from his early morning workout, I repeated the 'Lad had an interview' phrase and Ed's face was instant panic. I was like same, Ed. Same. Then I explained that it wasn't an interview with the media and Ed was equally relieved. 

*****

A winter wonderland:  

Coach and I took Kay and Rae downtown to the KringleMarket and we had a lovely time on Saturday evening. It was chilly, but not as chilly as it could've been. The girls rode the Ferris wheel and drank hot chocolate and we bought them handmade ornaments. We sat inside a restaurant and ate an appetizer and I described the history of the Christmas poem. 

On the way home as we looked at the lights in the city, I told them the story of when Coach proposed. Rae asked me to tell her the story of my dress. Where did I find it and who was with me? It was a special evening. I felt like they were digging in, grabbing hold of our family history, and wanting to know the background of all things Shenanigan. Maybe wishing they'd been around to be part of past poems. 

Remember the movies I make for each kid when they graduate from high school? I've wanted to share those with the girls because they are so much fun, but I also fear that they'll feel left out. They aren't in those family movies, obviously. They weren't here for those family adventures. Will they worry what their high school movie will include? 

Then they asked about what Christmas would be like. It hadn't dawned on us that they weren't sure what to expect. Is there a big breakfast? We are hosting, but who will be coming? How dressed up do people get? How early will the other kids wake up (um, later than when they were little)? Do we eat before or after gift opening? Who brings gifts to the party? 

On Coach's side his sister asked what she could get them for our Dec. 23rd celebration, even though we only buy for godchildren. The girls don't have godparents yet. I was touched that she asked. I suggested that she get them each an ornament, because our bio kids have a million ornaments, but Kay and Rae have none. I don't know that anyone on my side will think to do something similar. My parents are buying the girls gifts. 

bummer mood, Christmas stocking dilemma, and who wants a card and poem?

(this early part has been taken down as it pertained to the issue we dealt with in December and our lawyer advised us not to post anything about it, sorry.)

****************

I'll soon share the babysitting drama that occurred at the same.exact.time as everything else. But, I have a Christmas conundrum for you and a funny-ha-ha story (I lied. I bumped the funny story to the next post. Sorry, but look at it this way - now you have that to look forward to and I forgot that I wanted to talk about my annual poem).

Christmas stockings:  When the kids were little, I bought Christmas stockings that I loved. I even bought an extra one just in case there were any more babies and then I ended up needing it. 

Sadly, something leaked into the storage room in the basement about 10 years ago and it ruined a Christmas bin. We had to toss the stockings. I bought new ones that I was not nearly as crazy about at Target. They're fine, just not my favorite.

Target 'meh' stockings. Bright colors,
adorned with jingle bells. If I find 2
 more like these, then I would be
 resigned to keep this version. 

Now, we need two additional stockings for Kay and Rae. What to do? I deal with a lot of disorder, but I do prefer our stockings to match. 

If I have to buy all new stockings in order to have them match (pretty sure that's the route I'm gonna have to take), where can I get stockings that are possibly similar to the OG stockings, which I think I found at Marshalls and I believe the tag said something along the lines of Amish this-or-that? I'm not interested in breaking the bank here. 

*updating to say that I think I might go with these. They're from Personalization Mall.  

By the way, thanks for your emails and for reaching out and for still reading. Much appreciated.

Please send me an email to (my real last name)clan7@yahoo.com if you are interested in receiving my Christmas card and poem. You can read about my poem tradition here. I'm trying to churn it out, but I'm having a hard time remembering anything funny or unusual that we did this year - so if you have any suggestions for any antics you think I should include, please remind me in the comments. 

undermine me, will you? And a November to remember

Before I explain the babysitting difficulties, here's another bump in the road that cropped up right when the basketball drama did. 

The fostering situation has not been completely easy-breezie. We weren't silly enough to think that it would be. Rae gave us a hard time early on. There was a day when Coach and I sat down with her to discuss a situation that had upset us. It involved her hanging with a friend we'd never met, and the two of them doing a sort of disappearing act. Afterwards she didn't appreciate being corrected. I got the standard foster kid lip:  YOU'RE NOT MY MOM. I DON'T LIKE IT WHEN YOU GET ALL PARENTAL ON ME. 

Reminder:  Rae's 12 years old.

When we sat her down, I was overcome with emotion. I told her how I'd been so pleased that she'd made friends and I'd spent my day off making a nice lunch and cleaning the house for both girls and the friends they'd invited over. 

And then #^&*$@*(!@  I felt like I got crapped on and I was worried when she and her friend didn't return from the park for 4.5 hours. (they'd walked to a gas station . . . A GAS STATION!) People, how did I not share this with you in the moment, because I'm very much an open book (as if you hadn't noticed) and this day was almost the death of me.

Anyway, somewhere in that Your Behavior Upset Me interaction, Rae apologized. She and I connected in a way that we hadn't before. She allowed me to hug her. Rare, hugging is not really a thing with her. Since then, we've had challenging moments, but they've been more like MOMENTS vs DISTRUBANCES.

She really appreciates my sense of humor. We've made strides. Easy? No. It's so much more possible to feel flexible and patient with a kid who you've connected with - a kid who recognizes that you care about her happiness and that you are doing things for her. 

I always assumed Kay, the 11 year old sis, would be easier. Nope. A month ago, I met with our family therapist, Cami, on my own. I described how it felt like Kay's main way to interact with me was to engage in an arguement. If I asked her to read - FIGHT. I pointed out how the school social worker, Bella, called me and left me feeling Weird. Upset. Agitated. She was trying to sell me on the merits of graphic novels. She told me she didn't think I understood the girls' trauma. 

What now? 

Cami pointed out that the school SW, Bella, had crossed a line. She was allowing Kay to form an attachment to her, which was interfering with her being able to attach to us. Bella should've been focused on school-related issues, but instead she was urging Kay to vent about us  while she cheered her on, pitied her plight with us, and made us out to be bad guys. 

On that Friday, I emailed the school at 4 am (this is when I wasn't sleeping during my prep for SIBO testing). The girls were not to see Bella until after our upcoming zoom, when we could determine Bella's role. 

The zoom was set for a Wednesday. A day or two before, Kay told me that she was going to meet with Bella. Huh?

Me:  HMM. YOU THINK? WHY DO YOU SAY THAT. YOU NEVER MENTION WHEN YOU ARE MEETING WITH HER. 

*I was unaware that Bella had told Kay that I'd put a stop to their meetings, oh - most of which happened during academic classes. This kid needs to be in class, but yet - Bella took her out of class WHENEVER Kay wanted her to. 

Kay opened her email and there were so many emails between the two of them. I sent her to take her shower and I started reading. 

Kay:  I CAN STILL MEET WITH YOU, WE JUST DON'T HAVE TO TELL ERNIE AND COACH. *this was long before I'd pulled the plug on it. What was even happening? 

I discovered that Bella had emailed both girls excerpts of my email to the principal. Unprofessional. I thought I might lose my mind. 

I was fired up.

There were a bunch of people on the zoom discussing Kay's academic issues. Basically as a result of neglect, Kay's academics weren't focused on. No one was paying attention to her reading. At our house, she wanted to only read graphic novels, but we found that she only looked at the pictures and wasn't really reading. Bella had been providing her graphic novels, knowing our rule was "2 regular novels, then a graphic, repeat, etc." 

Principal Awful:  EVERYONE IN THE BUILDING CAN SEE BELLA. IT'S A SAFETY CONCERN.

DCFS backed me up a bit, saying I could limit the groups Kay was included in. 

At the end of the zoom, the principal, who is a horrible human being - which is something I know from past experience, asked if we needed to discuss the minutes with Bella further. The DCFS social worker really tip toed around it, which surprised me because she'd been Hell bent about it when we chatted. I gladly took the reins. 

I.did.not.mince.words. I shared that Bella had undermined our parenting, that she'd crossed a line in sharing emails, and that she was jeopardizing the girls' placement in our home.

When I was done, Bella asked Principal Awful if she should speak to any of that. Awful just shook her head, lips pursed. As in, you best SHUT THAT PIE HOLE. 

A week or two later, the shit hit the fan. I overheard Kay on her zoom to her therapist. (she was being loud) Bella told Kay after our zoom, that I'd called her names. (nope. didn't happen), and that I'd made Bella cry. (or maybe Bella cried because she was in trouble. I think she's 23 years old) and that Ernie (spit my name like it was poison) wouldn't let her miss academic classes. Everything was my fault. 

What the actual Hell? I called an emergency meeting with the DCFS worker. She sat down with Coach, myself, and the two girls. She spelled shit out. She said she didn't want to hear about Bella again. Bella needed to stay in her lane. 

Me:  Kay, it wasn't me who decided you couldn't see Bella, it was Cami. Also, there is a team, a literal TEAM of people working on getting you to be part of this family. Bella is hurting that, while everyone else on the team is working SO hard to make it happen. 

We reviewed the topic in our family therapy session with Cami Saturday. Kay wrote Coach and I a note and taped it to our door Sunday night - like a few days ago, Sunday. It hit me right in the feels. 

That was long. Sorry. I've been dying to share, because this one chick almost undid everything we are trying to accomplish. Coach and I see the superintendent at the junior high tomorrow afternoon to point out how horrible this social worker has behaved. 

Nothing like fighting 2 schools at the same time. 

*****

In some time zones, this might be past 11/30th, but heck - it's November 30th here. I want to say thanks to all of you who took the time to visit and comment here. I've really enjoyed meeting new blog friends, and I love how my world expands and my circle of friends grows as I get to know all of you from your comments and reading your blogs. I'm so grateful to San for organizing and to Suzanne for explaining what NaBloPoMo was on her blog. I was unfamiliar and jumped on board in the 11th hour. If I ever do it again, I'm assuming I'll have almost nothing to write about. This November, a November to remember, was A LOT. I'll soon be back to my normal Mon/Thurs posts. Hope to see you there. I hope to be off of 'private' soon. 

Babysitting: full house, careful what you wish for

My daycare numbers were a little low for this school year. I knew I'd never be able to match the CROWD I had last year, but it was tough not to be earning the same income. I'm of the mindset - as long as I'm doing this, I may as well fill all available spots. 

Coach reminded me that the school year was going to be hectic with the two newbies living with us, so he told me to chill. I agreed, but I also pay the bills. 

One of our favorite things,
 playing at the park.

As the two girls settled into life with us, and one family opted out of care on  Wednesdays after realizing the work-from-home dad could grab them after preschool, I started searching for new families. (insert ominous music)

I met two families on the FB babysitting group. A grandma, who watches her grandson, wanted someone to sit for him twice a week. She used to babysit for teachers and hired me on the spot. She was flexible on what days she needed, so I offered her Mon/Wed -  my two lightest. 

I really liked the next family that I met with. They had a new baby and a 2 year old. They'd expressed an interest in just a few days a week, but during our meeting they were leaning towards 4 days. My Tuesday was already full. 

The next day the mom texted:  they'd be good with just 2 days. Next year she'd want 4 days. I knew they were currently using a commercial daycare. I asked her to call me, because it was too hard to inquire over text. 

Becky and I met at the
 park a few weeks
 ago, combined we
 probably had about
 12 kids. Enough to
 have lots of fun
 with my parachute, thank
 you FB marketplace. 

She wanted to use me 2x a week this school year, pairing me with a commercial center, because of her husband's travel schedule and her long commute. Next year she'd hope to work nearby and she'd need 4x a week. 

Hard NO. I was very pleasant and I appreciate that they liked me setup and my vibe, etc. But, I will not watch kids who attend a big commercial setting on the days opposite me. I will not welcome all.of.the.germs. I need to think of my other families. The woman was very understanding and if she can find a local teaching job, she'll touch base about a spot for the fall. 

I was bummed. I'd thought this was the answer. The next morning, a woman messaged me on FB. I msg'd back saying I DON'T DO FRIDAYS. She only needed Mon, Wed, Thurs. What the what? Those were the only days I could do. The stars were aligning. Hooray. 

She described her new teaching job, her three kids, and her LOVE for her former sitter (when former stopped sitting, this mom quit teaching and stayed home after the birth of her 18 month old). She couldn't imagine leaving her kids with anyone else, but she also wanted to get back in the work force. Staying home was harder than she thought it would be. The 18 month old needed care and on Thursdays the 4 yr old would tag along, because she had no preschool. 

We really hit it off over the phone. She came and met me, brining the little guy along. We clicked, she hired me. The end.

That neat and tidy wrap up was what I assumed I was dealing with. 

Silly, silly me. More to come. 

family. group chats. mind blowing.

The girls had no school
ALL WEEK. There were zoom
conferences on Monday and Tuesday. It's
been a LONG week. They aren't great at
entertaining themselves yet.
Coach and I took the girls
 bowling with Mini the minute she got
home from college Monday afternoon. 

Before I start filling you in on the bumps, the triumphs, and the frustrations over the last six months with the two newbies, I'd like to catch you up on ANOTHER issue. 

Yes, I'm a train wreck of late. As if you haven't noticed. There will be light-hearted posts . . . someday. I hope. 

A few weeks ago, I took a run on a Friday morning- my day off. I run past my parents' house. My mom was getting her paper. I stopped to chat with her. She isn't usually up so early anymore. *Alzheimer's. 

I told Mom I was gonna go visit Uncle M, my dad's brother who we moved up here from Texas in May. He's enjoying getting to know all of my dad's 22 grandkids, most of whom are local. Anyway, I didn't want to go visit at the same time as Dad. Spread the love and all that. 

Mom explained that Dad won't be seeing M, (this part is a little fuzzy and there are a lot of charades happening as Mom struggles to find the words. I'm guessing - she's nodding along) because in the middle of the night he had to drive himself to get a catheter put in at the urgent care. *Dad had been hospitalized for a UTI a few weeks prior. 

Me:  DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW? 

Mom:  NO, WELL I THINK MAIRE KNOWS, BUT I'M NOT SURE HOW.

I messaged my siblings while jogging home. *I'm one of 5. Marie lives in Milwaukee but comes to my folks' house a lot to stay for days on end and work from their home. Marie thinks she's an only child and the rest of us are just well-intentioned neighbors. Ann, my oldest sister, is the most controlling person alive. She's a nurse. My brothers are one and two years younger than me. They can do no wrong. 

Marie texts:  THAT HAPPENED A FEW DAYS AGO. DAD DROVE HIMSELF TO THE ER BECAUSE HE COULDN'T PEE AS A RESULT OF A PROCEDURE HE HAD DONE LAST WEEK TO MAKE HIS URETHRA BIGGER TO AVOID UTIs.

Turns out only my brother Mike and I didn't know. I usually shake it off, but this time - I couldn't.

My text:  I FEEL LIKE SO MUCH IS COMMUNICATED HERE (like what the folks ate for lunch - I didn't text that, but it's implied) WHY WASN'T THIS? NOT HAVING ALL THE INFO HAS BEEN PRETTY UPSETTING THIS MORNING.

Marie:  SORRY, I'VE BEEN REALLY BUSY AT WORK.

Me:  OH, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO BE BUSY. (I should've said:  it takes 30 seconds to send a text and what I wanted to text was if you're so damn busy at work then stop coming and living here so much of the week. Four siblings live in a 10 miles radius, and I can walk there).

Mike:  RELAX ERNIE, SHE SAID SORRY. I DIDN'T KNOW EITHER.

Me:  I'M PERFECTLY RELAXED. I'M JUST BEING HONEST. 

It was maddening to be left out of the communication. Pat's 2 cents was WOW, MOM'S STARTING TO STRUGGLE MORE. 

A week or so before turkey day, I asked my folks their plans. Ann was hosting them, Uncle Mike, and Marie/Marie's family. Pat was going to his lake house and Mike was staying home. Maybe my brothers had gotten invited by Ann, not sure. I didn't get invited. We'd made plans with Coach's side, but no one on my side knew that and still - crickets. Hmm. 

On Thanksgiving:  Pat texted me separate from the family group chat Happy Thanksgiving. I texted him back and then I texted Mike. The siblings always text in the group chat for holidays, and it dawned on me that my sisters most likely texted my brothers separately to wish them Happy Thanksgiving to avoid texting me, thus my brother's random text. 

Before I went to bed that night, I group chat texted:  I HOPE EVERYONE HAD A GREAT THANKSGIVING. Mike responded that he was bummed to have work the next day. My sisters? Radio silence.  

In August Mini went to the Art Institute of Chicago per Uncle M's request. My dad went and Ann took all of them. When Ann dropped Mini off at home afterward, she snarled at Mini:  SO WHAT'S THE STORY? HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO HAVE THOSE GIRLS LIVING WITH YOU? I MEAN I THOUGHT YOU ALREADY TRIED THIS. 

Uncle had been dropped off already, but Mini was STUNNED (I mean, not completely because Ann has a tone. She's entitled to information. Worth noting: she could've easily asked me as I'd just seen her a few weeks prior, but she didn't.) Dad was still in the car and he grumbled at her:  ANN! THESE GIRLS ARE DIFFERENT THAN THE LAST TIME. ERNIE'S TRYING. THAT'S WHAT SHE'S DOING. 

Neither sister has reached out, checked in, offered support or encouragement and (unlike most of you) they've known about the girls since days after they arrived. 

We take the girls to a family therapist to work on issues as they arise. I really like her. Coach wants me to make an appointment to go see her solo to talk about 1. b-ball  nightmare, and 2. my sisters. 

I plan to.

short but sweet: a post, a haircut, and THE info

I failed to mention that I'm so grateful that Lad decided to reconnect with us after the rocky summer we had when we let him know that the time had come for him to move out. He's been stopping by regularly, showing up for Sunday dinners, and supporting Reg (and all of us) in the basketball dilemma. 

Also, I meant to talk about how grateful I am for my NEW haircut. This was a long overdo appointment. When I got a text that Christina had a cancellation, I was thrilled that it worked with my schedule. Before she started cutting my hair last Friday, I poured out the updates as I hadn't seen her since May or June. I normally get my haircut every few months. I was not only shaggy, I was brimming with family news. Um, Mini's roomie almost died from a flesh eating bacteria, and then on and on. 

I like long hair. I want long hair to work for me. My hair is incredibly thin, thanks celiac. No amount of Nutrafol or anything will prompt it to fill in. The lighting in the dressing rooms at my fav department store are so unforgiving I cringe at my baldness. With long hair, I like that I can pull my stringy strands up into a clip when it's long. *Long for me is like an inch or two past my chin, so not exactly Rampunzel-esque. Christina does a great job of layering and tweaking my hair so that it doesn't look as awful as it otherwise would, which is why I pay her the big bucks. 

Christina's kids will one day attend the high school where my kids go and where she went. She was disgusted by the basketball story. While I was filling her in on everything, she cut my hair into the cutest, fluffiest, light-weight, curly hairdo. I've not worn my hair like this in for-EVAH. She introduced me to a new product:  IT'S A 10, VOLUMIZING SPRAY. It works wonders for me. While I miss my quick-up, hair-clip day, hooray for an unexpected new look. 

I was gonna write this info into a post, but I ran out of time and I'd written about my haircut . . . so I decided to show our family pic to demonstrate my hair - which I think is not easy to see in a picture of this size, but whatever.
In the front row next to Coach and I:  the girls.
As of tomorrow, they've lived with us for 6 months.

it's like buying a house and also NOTHING like buying a house & Tank's hilarious thought

End of April:  We met the two girls first, because their worker, Morgan, was available first. We drove about 45 minutes west to meet them at a Starbucks with Morgan. The Starbucks was doing employee training and they weren't gonna let us in. That was an interesting start. We got in, found them, but had to shuffle outside to complete our chat as the Starbucks was kicking everyone out. 

They seemed like nice kids. The younger one, Kay, wished us luck with all of our paperwork, then asked if they should call us mom and dad. Huh? The older one, Rae, didn't say much. It was hard to imagine being in their shoes. I mean my shoes were plenty panicked, but to be kids and to be separated from two older brothers, a mom, and to now not be wanted by grandparents - holy crap, that's a lot. 

About a week later, we drove into the city of Chicago to meet with the two little guys. I nicknamed them M & M, because their names both start with 'M'. No lie, these two might be the cutest African American siblings EVER. They were wiggly and giggly and made to fidget. We could barely get a look at them, because they were under the kitchen table the second we sat down. 

Their worker, Sarah, kept apologizing, saying they weren't used to meeting people. While she was talking, I was making my hands into puppets under the table. More giggling. 

I have no photo to go with this post. My
 not-quite-functioning phone takes
 random photos. This is Curly leaving over
 me and my phone snapping a pic. This
 is what I felt like -  as crazy as
 Curly's inverted hair. 

Their foster mom walked in a few minutes later. She sat down at the table and whispered in a barely audible tone:  what'cha doing under that table? 

Bam. They shot up into the seats across from us like little rockets. When I asked them a question, their silliness erupted again, until Foster Mom breathed:  You'll answer her questions. 

They nodded and told me their teachers' names and I offered them the coloring books we'd brought. 

On the way home, Coach was speechless. I gave him some time to process before I asked, SO, WHAT'RE YA THINKING?

Coach:  YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS? DID YOU SEE THEM? THEY'RE CRAZY. THEY WERE ALL WIGGLY AND EVERYTHING. WE'RE TOO OLD FOR THAT. 

Me:  COME ON. SERIOUSLY? I DO THAT ALL DAY. THEY WERE JUST EXCITED. THAT'S ALL. HOLY SHIT, DID YOU SEE THEIR FOSTER MOM. WHETHER OR NOT WE TAKE THEM, I WANT TO COME HANG OUT WITH HER AND LEARN HER MAGIC TRICKS. SHE'S GOOD. 

The next day Sarah called and I told her we'd met another sibling pair and we needed to decide. It was weird. I felt like we were cheating on them. She was understanding.

Coach and I spent the next week mulling things over. I convinced him we needed to meet M & M again to get to see them when they weren't so silly. We met them at a McDonald's playland. Girl M screamed so much in the play structure that she made other children cry. Yikes. We colored and played stickers with them in a booth while they ate. We chatted with Sarah about what they liked to do and their bedtime routine. We tracked them in the playground equipment and pretended to chase them, etc. We drove home and Coach said, MAYBE THEY COULD BE THE ONES. 

Sarah informed us they'd never had a family. They still had visits with their mom, but they weren't really connected to her. They didn't understand what it meant to be part of a family. I felt like they were in a good position to be adopted because they were so young, but Sarah was frustrated. She wished the mom had signed away her rights when they were babies, when she first admitted that she couldn't take care of them. 

To be fair, I wanted to meet with the girls again, too. Coach was out of town teaching a class, but I asked Curly if she'd come mini-golfing with me and these two girls that we were considering. 

* BTW, when we told Reg and Curly that we were meeting potential kids to adopt, Curly said  SERIOUSLY? I THOUGHT WE WERE DONE WITH THIS. 

Oh, brother. 

We followed the mini-golf with pizza. Curly agreed, the girls were probably fine. Although, what the hell? Why did they drag the golf balls across the putting greens with their club? How did they not know how to play mini-golf? 

Because they'd never been mini golfing. 

Coach and I had to decide. It was near impossible. I kept saying this was like buying a house, but it was also  NOTHING like buying a house. - it was like if we made an offer on one house and then heard about a different house going on the market the next day. One might have better square footage, one might have better appliances. 

Obviously this was so much more important, but it was just hard to know.  

We made lists and weighted each point. We talked till we couldn't talk anymore. It seemed Coach wanted the girls and I wanted the M & M's. I wanted a clean slate. There would be less to undo. Coach thought we were too old. I'm not gonna lie, this was like a unique and twisted type of torture. I ignored calls from the two different workers, hoping to buy more time. I worried about what Curly would want, considering she'd be living here with them the longest. 

I called the three college kids to give them a heads up. Ed thought we were plain crazy. Mini was on board, 100%. 

Tank:  OH, SO TWO SETS OF KIDS? SO, WE'RE ADOPTING ALL FOUR THEN? 

Sweet Jesus, NO. Licensed for 2. 

I called Mini and wept. I hadn't slept. I was wigging out. She talked me off the ledge. 

Mini:  WELL, WE AREN'T ADOPTING ANYONE BECAUSE THEY'RE CUTE. (good point). 

I told her I was worried about Curly and she said she'd handle that. She'd call her up and pick her brain. 

I kept telling Coach, THIS HAS TO BE IT. IF WE TAKE KIDS AND THEN WE SEND THEM AWAY AGAIN, IT'LL KILL ME. I CAN'T GO THROUGH THAT AGAIN. BESIDES, EVERYONE WILL THINK WE'RE ASS HOLES.

Coach:  IF ANYONE THINKS THAT, LET THEM TRY THIS. TRYING IS ALL WE CAN DO. LESS THAN 40% OF THE TIME THESE SITUATIONS END IN ADOPTION. WE'RE FOSTERING. THAT'S IT. WE'RE JUST GOING TO TAKE IT A DAY AT A TIME. THEN WE CAN SEE WHAT HAPPENS. 

Unlike the time with the two brothers (the autistic one and the six year old) when we used rock, paper, scissors to decide what to do, I made Coach call me over his lunch break and we tallied up our list and made our decision. Hardest day ever. 

What do you think we decided to do?

everything all at once - seriously: the TIMING, and more bad advice

I occasionally looked at websites posting info about kids who needed a forever home. We'd only consider kids in Illinois. In addition to the boys' issues being greatly underestimated, we'd gotten screwed because Indiana refused to pay for stuff since we were out of state. We were stuck with lots of bills. We had to pay our worker in Illinois to do maintenance visits. Eek, I don't want to think about the financial pitfall. Moving on. 

Curly climbing with
Larry and Harry at
 our local park. Hard
 to believe that was
 2 years ago, but also - it
seems like decades ago.

We'd been focused all along on adoption. You have to decide in advance if you wanna adopt or foster. There are different workers, different paths, etc. We steered clear of fostering, not wanting to become attached. We worried about our kids becoming attached, making it difficult to send foster kids back. That's the goal for so many kids and so many times that makes sense. Sometimes a foster situation turns into an adoptive placement, because rights might get terminated and the foster parents get first dibs on adopting. Still, that's a roll of the dice. 

I would occasionally fill out an online form when I read about a sibling pair that sounded like they might work for us. Keep in mind, the info I saw online was fluff. THEY LIKE SPORTS AND PIZZA AND THEY MAKE FRIENDS EASILY. 

Rarely did anyone respond. The workers can see our profile, so they might see that we said NO to sexual abuse (we felt ill-equipped for that and sadly SO many kids have that in their background), or they might decide we had too many other kids, or our location wasn't close enough to a community the kids were rooted in. Whatever. 

I got a call once about a girl who sounded EXACTLY like the boys. I took a pass. 

In the spring of '23, I started getting calls from workers about fostering.

Me:  Is the kids' goal reunification?

Worker:  No. 

She had no idea if parental rights might be terminated even though the kids had been in the system for years. I asked how many placements they'd had. She couldn't count them all. It was sad. Their current placement was ending and she had too many fires to put out on other cases, so she was just shuffling them along. Coach and I started talking about possibly fostering, since there seemed to be a need. 

Days later, I got an email from a worker who wanted to set up a phone call with us. I told Coach that our worker and I would handle the call. I assumed the kids would have too many issues, and I didn't want him to leave work early for nothing. 

The call was on a Thursday afternoon. It went really well. The kids' worker and I connected right away. The kids didn't have any issues. They'd been in foster care most of their lives and mostly it had been one consistent, amazing placement. The foster mom was retiring and the kids' mom was finally willing to sign away her rights. We could spend the summer visiting them, which was ideal for me because I don't babysit. The judge wanted a family identified, so he could move them into a pre-adoptive home in August. 

I texted Coach:  I THINK THIS IS IT. THEY'RE YOUNG. BUT HEY - CLEAN SLATE. 

The catch:  they were 5 and 6 years old. They were also boy/girl which would be tough with our bedrooms because they weren't allowed to share a room, which come on - I think they could share a room for a few years. 

Coach:  WOW- THAT'S REALLY YOUNG. DOES THE WORKER KNOW WE'RE OLD?

We agreed to meet the kids, leaving behind our false teeth, hearing aids, Depends, and walkers.  

Friday morning, our worker was coming to the house to review paperwork, etc. since we hadn't met in awhile. I missed a call while I was running. I called back, it was a DCFS worker. I left her a message. She called me back just as I was getting in the shower. 

Abby:  HI. THERE ARE TWO SISTER WHO NEED A HOME . . .

Me: OH, THANKS. WE WERE JUST MATCHED WITH A SIBLING PAIR YESTERDAY. AND WE'RE PRE-ADOPTIVE. WE DON'T FOSTER . . . 

Abby:  OH, THESE GIRLS NEED A PRE-ADOPTIVE HOME. THEY'RE GOOD KIDS, BEST FRIENDS, THEY DON'T HAVE ANY ISSUES. 

Me:  (I was hanging the phone up, but I stopped) OK, TELL ME A BIT ABOUT THEM, BUT LIKE I SAID - WE'VE BEEN MATCHED. JUST YESTERDAY.

I already felt loyal to the two little guys who I hadn't met yet. 

Abby:  THEY'RE 10 AND 12. THEY MOVED IN WITH THEIR GRANDPARENTS IN OCTOBER AFTER THEIR MOM WENT TO JAIL FOR DRUGS IN ANOTHER STATE. THE GRANDPARENTS AREN'T VERY GOOD TO THEM AND THEY NEED A PERMANANT HOME. (I asked about medications and diagnosis) NONE. 

They'd never been in foster care. 

My worker showed up and I told her:  YOU WON'T BELIEVE THIS. WE GOT ANOTHER CALL ABOUT 2 GIRLS. 

Ann: CAN YOU MEET BOTH SETS OF KIDS?

Me:  WELL, THAT'S MORE OF A QUESTION FOR YOU. WHAT SHOULD WE DO? 

Ann:  I'D MEET THEM BOTH AND THEN DECIDE. 

I feel that that was terrible advice, but alas - that's what we did. 

Thankful for: Halleluiah song, an oops that could've been worse, & meds

I'm pausing my story here till tomorrow. I feel like not everyone has time to read an ongoing saga during NaBloPoMo. Plus, it's Thanksgiving and I figured I'd write something a little light-hearted. 

I'm grateful for . . . 

I recently requested that Alexa play the song Halleluiah from Shrek. Alexa obliged. Then she proceeded to play a bunch of other songs, one after the other . . . WITHOUT commercials. I was confused, but delighted. The songs that followed were ALL great songs from artists that I enjoy, like Rusted Root's Send Me On My Way. I flipping LOVE that song. Ever since, when I ask Alexa to play Halleluiah from Shrek, the same thing happens. It's like a secret playlist. Made for me. With no commercials. Proof that it's the little things. 

Reg participated in a Friends-giving on Sunday. He was gonna bring mashed potatoes, which we all know meant that I was gonna make mashed potatoes. Then the host girl changed his assignment to green beans. I insisted he bring a tasty dish like my Sweet and Sour Green Beans vs a can of green beans. I assisted, but mostly he made it himself. Later he admitted that the teens really didn't eat it. Excuse me? Despite bacon and sugar, it couldn't compete with sides like mac and cheese. Anyway, I ate the leftovers Tuesday, and again last night while the fam ate the spaghetti and meatballs I made per Tank's request. As I was preparing to make a huge pot of S&S green beans for my SIL's house for today, it dawned on me:  I ate the friends-giving casserole, which wasn't prepared GF. Granted it isn't a ton of four, but OOPS. All that to say, I'm grateful it didn't make me sick.

I can never get it all
the way clean either.

After several phone calls and a week of waiting for them to figure it out, my super-strong SIBO-killing antibiotic has arrived. I plan to start Friday, because I want to enjoy an adult beverage, or several, today. 

I WILL be grateful if someone can steer me towards the world's best frying pan. I've spent a lot of money at William-Sonoma on a few frying pans in recent years. The coating on one is pulling away from the pan. Basically, neither is outstanding and they weren't cheap. Any recommendations? 

This is a close up of the edge
 of the frying pan. So frustrating.

I'm truly grateful for you, my blog friends. I love connecting with people from near and far, and learning about things in your world. I so appreciate your support, your friendship, and your presence here. Hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving, and if you aren't from the US - then I hope you are having a relaxing yet productive weekend.  

Larry and Harry, it wasn't all rainbows, just the ONE rainbow

We met L and H in January of '21. During the initial phone call when we learned more about the boys and their needs, I motioned to Coach across the room by running a finger across my throat, as in NO WAY. I'M OUT. THIS IS NOT FOR US.

Instincts. Trust them. 

Our worker convinced us after the call that although the boys had a ton of diagnosis and were taking every medication imaginable, they could outgrow some of it. Plus, with a stable environment, they could thrive. We followed blindly.

On a zoom, we met various workers and their foster mom, who'd had them for a little over a year. 

My first question:  YOU'VE HAD THESE TWO FOR OVER A YEAR. WE ARE WORRIED ABOUT ALL OF THEIR ISSUES. WE HAVE 6 OLDER KIDS AND WE HAVE TO THINK OF THEM TOO. WHAT WOULD YOU SAY?

Debbie:  OH, THESE TWO WON'T GIVE YOU ANY TROUBLE.

That is a direct quote. We took her words like it was bible and we agreed to meet the boys. We drove back and forth to Bloomington, IN where Ed was in college and met the boys, continuing almost every other weekend for months to get to know them. They had some struggles like weird food aversions and they were 2-3 years behind grade level, but they seemed manageable. Later we discovered that when more was demanded of them, like SCHOOL, they fell apart.

This was about the same
time that Finnegan, Lad's dog,
 moved in with us - Lad just
 showed up with him.
We've never owned a dog.
I'm allergic. I can't make
 this stuff up if
 I wanted to. 

They moved in with us mid July '21. They tormented us. Ambulances were called to the house. The older one wouldn't leave the bathroom at school. Debbie admitted he did that back in Indiana, and no one ever mentioned it. 

We tried EVERYTHING. Mini was reduced to tears one night at dinner. I was putting Harry in a takedown hold and hollering CALL DAD! TELL HIM TO GET HOME NOW. I NEED HIM. 

Mini:  I JUST CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE. 

We couldn't do it anymore either. Part of the issue was their ADHD meds. The ones they were on weren't really addressing ADHD. Turns out Harry didn't have ADHD, but it can present like trauma and Indiana misdiagnosed him. Harry flipped his lid, quite literally, once he was given true ADHD meds. 

We'd kept in touch with Debbie. When we waved the white flag to send them back, she said:  OH, I'M NOT AT ALL SURPRISED. THEY'RE THE REASON I QUIT FOSTERING AFTER 23 YEARS. THEY WERE SO BAD. 

I still remember where I was in the grocery store during this call. 

Me:  (I'd kind of gathered that she'd lied to us, but in that moment I got up the nerve to call her out on it) WAIT, WHY DID YOU TELL US THAT THEY WOULDN'T GIVE US ANY TROUBLE? 

Debbie: OH, BECAUSE DEPT OF CHILDREN WAS ON THE CALL AND I DIDN'T WANT TO GET MY HAND SLAPPED.

Me: REALLY? YOU DID A DISSERVICE TO US AND TO THE BOYS. THIS IS ANOTHER FAILURE FOR THEM AND IT'S BEEN IMPOSSIBLE FOR OUR FAMILY. 

I was dumbfounded. Indiana was mad at us for quitting. We tried to tell them that the boys needed to be separated. They were too much for one family. That ticked Indiana off. Then the boys claimed I hurt them. I was investigated. They interviewed all the families I sit for. Of course the claim wasn't substantiated, but EVERYTHING sucked. 

The boys LOVED our kids. Our kids, especially Reg and Curly, were incredible with them. We took them on a beach vacation and our hearts swelled watching our 6 kids ride the waves with the 2 boys.

We felt like shit when we bailed. The boys' level of care was truly severe and we'd always said we could only handle mild to moderate type issues. The night before they left, Debbie connected us to someone she knew who'd once worked their case. The new details she shared were eye-opening. The boys had survived unthinkable living conditions, raising themselves with a pack of kids in a legit drug den. 

It breaks my heart that they don't have a copy of the photos and videos we took of them, because Indiana stopped communicating with us. Shame on Indiana. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. We TRIED. When the boys moved in, Indiana suggested we just go ahead and adopt them right away, bypass the wait-six-months timeframe that's in place to assure a good fit.

Us:  HMM, NO. WE'LL STICK WITH THE 6 MOS PROTOCOL. THANKS.

Mid October '21, when I drove them back to Indiana a rainbow appeared over the gas station where I was meeting an emergency foster worker. I told the boys the rainbow was for them. It was a sign of hope. I told them that we'd always love them and we'd keep praying for them.

Last Christmas, Debbie let us know that she'd heard that Indiana DID separate the boys and that they'd been adopted into two different homes about a year after they left us. (before being separated, they'd been in like 5 homes the 2 months after they left us). They attend the same school and see one another often. We were so happy for them. SO HAPPY. We were bummed that the system had screwed with us and as a result other kids in need of a home were missing out on a potential family. 

Fun fact:  a few months after the boys left, our license was up for renewal. We were undecided, leaning towards NO WAY, but we decided to renew it  in Jan '22, because it was only $500 and we could wait and see vs having to repeat all the courses and stuff if we changed our minds later. 

Next up:  2 calls in 12 hours in April of '23. What? 

a needy kid is a needy kid

Click here if you missed the start of this story. I won't bore you with details of getting licensed to foster/adopt and finding an agency to work with and switching to a different worker after we met another family (Bakers) at our kids' school who loved their worker. We kept it all a secret, well - our kids and a few close friends knew.

This whole licensing process took YEARS. It wasn't like asking people for a recommendation for a good house painter. We couldn't grill people about how to go about this, what agency to use, etc. 

Oh, and we decided NOT to adopt internationally. That was hard for me initially, because the movie had sparked that vision. Some countries wouldn't allow us to adopt because of the size of our family and most of them had rules about us going there for weeks at a time, which seemed sensible of course, but impossible with our other kids and Coach's job. 

God places people in front of you at times. We wouldn't be where we are today without the Bakers, whose kids attend high school with our kids. We also met  Curly's new BFF at Irish dancing. That girl's family had adopted 2 girls from Ethiopia. The mom shared their story and I learned that they'd originally planned to adopt from Haiti, but they lost all the money they'd invested in the process when Haiti had a hurricane or something. Plus, the international process sounded like it took forever. We weren't getting any younger. 

Coach wisely said:  A NEEDY KID IS A NEEDY KID. LET'S ADOPT LOCALLY. 

Once I got word that our license was approved, I remember walking around the house organizing and cleaning, expecting the phone to ring ANY MINUTE. There are so many needy kids out there, we'll probably get a call very soon. I braced myself and that makes me laugh now. 

A blurry Curly and Reg playing
soccer with Harry and Larry. 

We met sibling pairs 3 times before we moved forward with the 4th pair:  two brothers (aka Harry and Larry) from Indiana in '21. I've written posts about a different set of brothers that we considered from Illinois. Their social worker mishandled that situation and it crushed me. She allowed them to be split up because their foster family only wanted the 4 year old and not the 10 year old autistic brother. That was the whole reason we'd been asked to take them, because the foster family said NO to both. But then the worker back pedaled. I think that foster mom begged and pleaded with her. We'd said we would take both of them, SO WHY SEPARATE THEM? 

There were other heartbreaks and mind blowing frustrations, but we had to trust that everything happens for a reason.

We had kids come for day visits and overnights. Each time we tried to imagine IS THIS IT? WILL THESE KIDS FIT WITH OUR FAMILY? It's a strange process - to put it mildly, because you don't know initially. I'm an ALL-IN type, or maybe you can call me a planner, so each time my brain started mapping out how things would play out.

Coming up:  a brief overview of the Harry and Larry saga. 

*****

Also, the school never responded to the lawyer's letter informing them that they put Reg on the team or we'd file a lawsuit in federal court. We are moving forward with the lawsuit. I feel ill. How can this be happening? It's so twisted and wrong. We've loved our school and been loyal and supportive of it for over 10 years. 

My SIL suggested that Reg think of it like he was injured and that's why he is missing his season. I was like WTF? I know she means well, but that's like telling someone whose loved one was just murdered to pretend they'd died of cancer instead.