If you're a smoker and you're reading this, try not to hate me. I come from a very "religious" region. I think that's the reason why the isle of the grocery store where you go to get cigarettes is always the shortest. Perhaps there's a stigma. I totally capitalize on that notion. I almost always go through that isle. The wait is shorter.
Well... another part of the fun for me is when someone who's actually in that line to buy cigarettes has to wait for the worker to ring up my $200 of groceries. It's like my payback on those rude people who smoke outside of doorways and other places where I have to wade through their toxins to get where I'm going. I make them wait. It's great fun.
I went grocery shopping yesterday and like usual I went to that isle to check out. There was a lady behind me giving me the stink-eye. I was hoping like crazy that she wasn't in the line to buy cigarettes. She had a baby with her. Lo and behold as I walked away I heard her telling the lady what kind she wanted. I'm SO HAPPY I made her wait all that time. I would only hope she doesn't smoke near her kid.
Well... I was wrong. The person at camp that seemed too good to be true wasn't. She was a real person. I have met her now and she befriended me on Facebook. She walked my kid to the car on the last day of camp so she could meet me. I emailed her later that day playing the role of protective mom and she passed the test with flying colors. It turns out that her mother is the head of the Grad Psychology Dept. at JMU. That's why she was there. She wants to be a Clinical Psychologist when she grows up. She's a very interesting person. She believes very differently that my family (or most people that I associate with) but seems to be a very solid person. I told her she's welcome to hang with my kid(s) when she's in town if she wants to. She lives in Charlottesville and is back and forth between there and Harrisonburg.
I have evidence of her movies. They're all independent films. The most recent one looks really good and I want to see it. It's about Child Protective Services. www.throughthecracksthemovie.com I think she plays the wild daughter of the case worker. It'll be interesting.
I have a good imagination. I was born with it. It's both a blessing and a curse to me.
The negative side of it has to do with how I'm perceived by others. In my mind I'm many things that I'm lacking in person. In my mind I have a fantastic personality. If everyone else knew me like I know me I would be the life of the party. I spend a lot of time hiding in my head with myself. I heard someone use the expression "running amouck in your head with no adult supervision". That totally applies to me. I consider stuff that I'm certain most people don't and have great fun thinking on these things. The trouble that causes is that I've become so guarded that the fun I'm having in my head doesn't translate to my face. If it did I would be smiling most of the time. I don't. I have this horrible mean look on my face. I hate it. Gratefully there are people who see through it and get to know me enough to discover that I am, in fact, sweet. I love those people. They are blessings to me.
The fun side of my imagination allows my world to be very large and full of interesting things. I love to notice details that generally aren't noticed. The other day I was on a walk with some friends and they were chattering away about some topic or another and I noticed a cat peacefully sleeping on the front steps of it's home. It had the most serene happy cat look on its face. It was awesome. I love walking in neighborhoods. There's so much to see. There are also sounds and smells. On the same walk with my friends I noticed the sound of water falling into the gutter. That's an awesome noise. It's like a baby waterfall right in your own neighborhood. Usually that sound is accompanied by a really fresh after the rain smell.
One of my favorite games lately is called "Out Of life Experience". It involves imagining your life on another street. I love choosing random houses and thinking about what life would be like if that's where I lived. You know how the street you live on becomes so afterthought commonplace? I take in all the things that surround the random house I pick and imagine me in the picture. It's great fun.
Intrigue: (according to dictionary.com) 1. to arouse the curiosity or interest of by unusual, new, or otherwise fascinating or compelling qualities; appeal strongly to; captivate: The plan intrigues me, but I wonder if it will work.
2. to achive or earn by appealing to another's curiosity, fancy, or interest: to intrigue one's way into another's notice.
3. to draw or capture: Her interest was intrigued by the strange symbol.
4. to accomplish or force by crafty plotting or underhand machinations.
OK... so the oldest is at a "Girls Leadership Experience Camp for rising 6th graders" this week. It's been interesting. To begin with, last week two of the leaders came to our house to interview my kid. I found that odd. Monday she didn't have anything unusual to report except she had met a really cool teenager named Maggie. Yesterday she came home with quite a story. Apparently this really cool teenager is: 16 (skipped high school because she's so smart and is in college), a supermodel (she's taught them how to walk all rigid and stupid), an actress who is in 3 soon to be released movies, has a boyfriend (who she showed them pictures of), had a photo shoot (in Harrisonburg last night and it cost $300), knows how to belly dance (and has apparently taught them some moves). And... to top it off she's a tree hugger and a vegetarian. That's all I can think of at the moment. I'm certain though there's stuff I forgot.
So yesterday evening the kid walked around really stiff, bellydanced when we "weren't looking" though we saw, and did lots of cheerleading jumps (Maggie is probably a cheerleader too though the kid hasn't said so yet). This morning she had a terrible time finding something to wear (moreso than usual) because "nothing fit" which is positively untrue. She finally came out perfectly matched including her shoes and socks (not something she usually cares to achieve). She brushed her hair perfectly (unusual) without being told to do it over and over again (even more unusual). It happened to be raining outside and she was really concerned that she might get wet and her outfit would be ruined (so unusual I think she's been inhabited by an alien). And, she was especially proud of the notion that I drive a Mustang and would be dropped off yet again in said vehicle. (not something she ever verbally states that she cares about)
Think with me here. Maggie is obviously fake! She is a made up persona. My daughter has fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Here's my prediction. When the girls came to my house to interview my kid lots of the questions were about qualities people have that make them good leaders, etc. I'm betting that they took all those answers (from my kid as well as the interviews from other kids) and rolled them into a persona that's all things to all people. They're totally selling this character and then they're gonna reveal that she's a fake and then psychoanalyze the damage to these poor 6th graders. This camp is through the Psych department at the local university.
I really hope I'm right. It's an awesome concept. It's really mean to toy with them like that but it drives home a very important point. Our society is driven by fame/success. Our society teaches that you have to be something you are not, that you have to be superhuman to be loved and appreciated. We learn to posture ourselves to fit into the mold society has created. When we do that we sell ourselves short. We ignore the actual things about us that can be the most useful to others. I've seen it done over and over again. I have had that conversation over and over again with my kid. In middle school they start learning to posture when they decide to subscribe to the well established caste system. They pigeon hole themselves into a group (punk, goth, popular, nerd, smart, jock, etc.) Several of my kids friends have already fallen victim. I keep coaching her to be herself, be herself, be herself, ad nauseum. So far, so good. She's drawn though big time. She wants to be famous. That's all she thinks about. I keep telling her the only way to achive what she's chasing is to work hard and be herself no matter what others think. It's a darn near impossible concept for a 10 year old to grasp. I keep telling her that as soon as she trades who she is to fit what someone else wants she gives up control of her own life. At that point the only thing she's ever gonna achieve is what someone else decides for her. It's so sad that so many people choose that route and choose it early.
This camp is supposed to be a life changing week about leadership. If I were 10, falling in love with a fake persona who is then revealed as a fake would totally get my attention. It would definitely make me compare and contrast real leadership vs. popular culture icons. I'll let you know how all this turns out. I for one am positively intrigued!
I went grocery shopping today. Something my oldest said the last time she went shopping with me kept bouncing around in my head. She told me that one of her favorite foods is instant mashed potatoes (know by me as spud flakes). I just can't get my head around someone preferring spud flakes over the real thing. She told me that she does love real potatoes too but spud flakes are her favorite. It's almost painful to think about. To me nothing says love more than real taters.
Real taters remind me of my grandmother's house. She was always in the kitchen making something delicious. If you wanted to visit with her you had to hang out in the kitchen. She always wanted to know "our order" when we first got to her house (as she was usually inclined to make at least one thing off everyone's list and would likely need to go to the grocery store). I without fail ordered mashed potatoes and black eyed peas. 99.999% of the time my wish was granted.
At home we ate lots of Hamburger Helper and hot dogs. We ate anything that was cheap and easy (including spud flakes). I don't have a problem with cheap and easy. There was just a big difference between home and grandma's house. It was at my grandmother's house that I experienced love from the kitchen. She didn't cut corners. Everything she made was the best of the best. I appreciated that and loved her for it.
I want to give my children the good stuff. I want them to experience love from the kitchen like I did. As I was thinking today about what the kid said about preferring spud flakes I realized something important. Maybe spud flakes for the oldest does equal love.
The universe let up and the power did come on yesterday before I got home. Moreover, my husband who is so very good to me was there already and cleaning. He's so wonderful.
The visit was uneventful. The case worker had fun visiting with the youngest. The oldest got mad because I banished her from the trampoline for the day for directly going against my wishes regarding what she was allowed to do on the trampoline because of an injury she got a couple days ago at school that left her with a pinky three times it's normal size. (Love run ons?) She went to her room and sulked the rest of the time the worker was there.
The worker and I had a quick conversation while the girls were outside bouncing. Again, I'm astonished at how clueless this worker is about permanency in the minds of my children. The girls have permanency in her head and she doesn't get why the oldest is so insistent that the adoption be over with. She doesn't seem to get that the children woke up one morning members of the family they were born into and picked up from school by people they didn't know and taken to live with more people they didn't know. They never went home again. She doesn't seem to get that they don't really understand the way us adults do why exactly they were taken. In fact, her mother told her during a visit that they were kidnapped by the state for no reason and are being held prisoners and that she was fighting to get them back. She doesn't seem to get why the children believe that if they can be taken from their family for no good reason (in their heads) once that it could probably happen a second time. The oldest has stopped asking questions like "If you get in a car crash will they take us away?" but I'm not convinced that she believes my answers. I don't think she gets the stigma associated with foster children where their peers are concerned. I don't think she gets how badly the children want to be legally part of a family where they are safe and belong. Right now they're in limbo. They know they aren't legally ours. Their parents are still out there wanting. For more than a year now my husband and I have been "foster" mom and dad. The notion they might go home was drilled into them for more than a year by the case worker. The same case worker talking to them once and saying "ok, now you're probably staying where you are forever but that's not 100%" does not establish permanency for them. They need real permanency. They want our name. That will do so much for them. They need closure. The case worker completely misses all of this. You should have seen her face when I told her the oldest asks about adoption every day. She said "Why?! They have permanency. They aren't going anywhere." To that I say OY!!! Who are these clueless people that work for the state? Haven't they been trained. I feel like they need a degree in child psychology. It would help them understand.
Here's her first lesson: According to Merriam-Webster - (I'm pretty sure that the phrase "but it's not 100%" would destroy any notion of permanency. How about you?)
Main Entry:
1per·ma·nent
Pronunciation:
\-nənt\
Function:
adjective
Etymology:
Middle English, from Anglo-French parmanant, from Latin permanent-, permanens, present participle of permanēre to endure, from per- throughout + manēre to remain — more at per-, mansion
Date:
15th century
: continuing or enduring without fundamental or marked change :stable
So there's a phenomenon that happens in my head when the case worker is coming for a home visit. It causes every fiber of my being to long for a "perfectly clean" house. NOW... is there really such a thing? I say no. Nonetheless, when she's coming that's what I strive for. Somehow I convince myself to believe that 3 dogs, 2 cats and a rabbit worth of hair as well as the googe of 2 children can be tamed. So I slave (literally) like my life depends on it so that when she comes my house is clean. The truth is that she doesn't really care. I could not clean one thing for a month and my house would still be pristine compared to where the children used to live.
SO...This morning our power went out at about 4:00am. There was a loud pop somewhere close outside and then everything went silent. When my husband woke up the oldest for school and told her there was no power she wasn't concerned by that at all. She just looked at him unphased and asked if he paid the power bill. It's always strange when stuff like that happens. My children lived so poorly before that very little bothers them when it comes to creature comforts.
BUT.... I'm writing this from work (slow day) all the while hoping and praying the power is on when I get home so I can clean. How mean would it be of the universe if this odd power outage causes me to be unable to clean before the case worker gets there? She will then see that we don't REALLY live in a pristine environment like I've lead her to believe all this time. My life will be over. (Hand to forehead very dramatic like)
As a person who appreciates order, I do not understand how my oldest makes it from day to day. She literally would forget her head if it weren't attached. She got very frustrated with me today when I refused to bring to school the yearbook she forgot. It was the ONLY THING she had to take back with her this morning. She had no backpack, no homework, nothing. She was aware she needed it. She was excited about yearbook signing day. Yet.... she left it at home.
I hate being a big booger. I really wanted to take her the yearbook. I called my husband (because he's in charge of getting her up and out in the am) to find out how her morning went. He reported to me that she had trouble getting up and had a horrible attitude all morning. She was mouthy and had trouble getting out the door on time. So, my decision was to not take the yearbook. She called again later to see if I was going to bring her book. I informed her of the decision to not bring the book and the reasons why. She just growled. She knows though. I REFUSE to fail her by not teaching her responsibility.
I spend lots of time trying to figure out what direction to go with her. She is naturally VERY ditzy. The blonde jokes were written before her time but very much apply. She is who she is. I don't want her to be something she's not. I don't believe, though, that her blondeness is a reason to be irresponsible.
She reveres her bio mom. Part of me thinks her ditzyness is her trying to identify with her bio mom. I have witnessed actual intelligence from the child. This is in direct opposition to what I've witnessed from her mother. Her mother acts oblivious. She hasn't taken once stitch of responsibility for losing her children. She believes she's being picked on by the state. EVERYTHING to her is someone else's problem. She's not responsible for anything. After losing her children more than a year ago she still is depending on other people for her own daily well being. She believes 100% that all she has to do is get before the right judge and she will be found innocent and get her kids back. It's all about other people and has nothing to do with her. That is exactly how my child acts. She is better than she was when she first came to live with us. Still though... when I have an opportunity to talk with her about what happened this morning I already know what she'll say. She'll say that my husband is overly sensitive. She'll say she didn't have a bad attitude. It'll all be about what HE did wrong. It won't have anything to do with her. I'm certain that she will say it was completely his fault that she forgot her yearbook. Her day will have been ruined because of him.
It seems to me that at no point does she actually think about what all she needs to accomplish. She really does just float through her day and depend on others to tell her what's next. It's positively annoying. It's also really scary. She can't expect to become a successful person without being able to take responsibility.
I admitted last night that I'm tormented by feeling like I don't know my rightful place. Like everyone else I have lots of roles to play. It may just be that I'm more personally diversified than I've ever been and unsure how to handle it. I feel though that when it comes to service I fall short. Either I really am missing something or I'm not giving myself enough credit. I'm totally unsure on this one.
As a Christian I have a strong desire to serve the Lord. As an over analytical person I have a strong desire to "get it right". There is no scriptural directive that I'm aware of that calls for us to "get it right". That notion in and of itself should be helpful. It's not though because God made me with my quirky analytical side for a reason. I can't ignore who I am. I think the problem actually lies with my understanding of the roles I already play. I keep thinking I'm not doing enough. Perhaps I am.
1) I am a child and sister. I have parental units and siblings to whom I'm responsible. Some of those relationships require more effort than others.
2) I am a wife. I feel like I have it very easy in this department because I have a fantastic marriage and a wonderful husband. We just don't have the issues I hear so much about from other married persons.
3) I am an employee. It's only 20 hours a week. I have a flexible schedule. I work for wonderful people. The job is very well suited for me.
4) I am a parent of foster children. This is the category that holds the most responsibility. This is also the category where I get the most well meant, yet unsolicited feedback from others. I do believe that it's something I'm called to/well suited for. I don't, however, believe that it's a higher calling. Kids are kids. Every mother has different issues. My children just happen to have a traumatic past life. I've heard lots of people say that it is my "ministry". I don't know that I believe that.
I don't believe that any of these things or even all of them together are enough. I should be serving in the church somehow. I realize there's a whole topic here that can be debated. We are called to serve people. We are supposed to take care of one another as well. Can both those be done outside the church (given I'm active and plugged in to a church)? I believe the answer is yes. I'm indoctrinated, however, to feel otherwise.
Thursday was the TPR (Termination of Parental Rights) trial for my kids' bio mother. It was grueling and annoying and weird.
I should be happy with the result, but I'm not. I'm left scratching my head over what that four hours was about. I'd never been in court for anything other than a speeding ticket. I was not prepared for the court reporter and the bailiff goofing off while someone else was testifying. I was not prepared for the lawyers of opposing sides yucking it up and telling jokes during a short recess. Those same people a few minutes later were ripping each other new ones. (So to speak) I was not prepared for the opposing lawyer making light of child abuse and suggesting that perhaps a "counselor put those particular memories (and all the very specific details) in the child's head".
I've been in a really weird mood. I've had no energy. Processing everything I saw and heard has affected me physically. I told a friend that I feel like I need a million hugs. In spite of the positive ruling I feel kinda like the rug has been pulled out from under me. The notion of an appeal makes me ill. I'm certain that it'll happen. I hope we're allowed to be there.
I have a friend whom I love dearly that has a HORRIBLE child. He can be sweet. I've seen it. BUT... he has a big, fat mean streak. The other day he told my daughter she's fat. She cried. He then for the rest of the night called her a fat cry baby. His mother isn't in denial but sticks up for him to a fault. I don't even tell her anymore the things he says. The last time I did she went and talked to him and he denied doing what 3 or more children reported he did and she believed him! OY! My children aren't angels but I don't pardon their behavior just because they assure me that the rest of planet is conspiring against them. My children are generally guilty as charged.
I had a conversation the other day with this same mother. I didn't tell her what was said, or by whom, I just said something had been said and I wanted to talk to her about helping me redirect my child. Immediately she went on the defensive (knowing guilt). I didn't mention any specifics. I pointed no finger. I simply asked her about one of the really sweet girls that's close to my daughter's age because I want them to be friends and this friend would know best how to accomplish that because she's great with kids. (ironic huh?) Anyway... she went on to say my kid says things too. I let it slide because I wasn't in the mood to be angry with my friend. I happen to like her a lot. So.. the next day I sent her an email and asked what my kid had said (in case I needed to speak to her about it). I was blown away by her response. I was expecting that she was going to say something snarky that perhaps my kid said after her kid called her fat and made her cry. But.. she said that she was walking out to the trampoline and witnessed my kid in a battle of words with an older kid. It went something like "You're a liar, nu-uh you're a liar, nu-uh you're a liar", etc. How dare she put my kid in the same category as her little monster for having a "liar" war. In my book they're very different.
The good news is that I'm proud of both of my kids for being able to endure the attacks of a vicious beast of a kid. And.. their credibility went up with me. They keep telling me that kid is horrible and is always mean to them. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I still will to some degree because his parents are wonderful people and I know they are aware and are working on his faults. But... I lean more toward believing what my kids recount about time they are with them. So far he's thrown mud all over my little one (she was wearing brand new clothes that were ruined), he shoved the little one into a tree and her back was tore up from the bark (he denied it) and has now called my oldest fat and made her cry (I didn't even bother telling his mother). Those are just the major offenses that I'm aware of.
So yesterday I went on a field trip with my oldest to the national aquarium in Baltimore, MD. It was way cool. We zipped around at the pace of a 5th grade attention span (rather quickly) oohing and ahhing at all the cool fishys. We then took in a cool Dolphin show. By then we had an hour and a half before lunch. I figured we'd go back and look again at the things I had a hard time tearing them away from the first time through. To that thought I got "But really we just want to go to the gift shop" from all three of my charges. So... we spent an hour in the big gift shop. After that hour two of the girls came to me and said "We want to go back to the other gift shop because they don't have what we want here." There were exactly three gift shops at the aquarium. I managed to hide only one from them. After our shopping spree we had time to take in one more small exhibit and then play on the escalators (up, down, up, down, up, down, etc) until time for lunch. They won't remember one thing about the aquarium but they can tell you where everything is in the two gift shops they spent most of their time in. They can also speak at length about how fun escaltors are. So, do you think we're from a small town?
My husband bought me for some holiday last year a digital photo frame. I had it on my mantle for a long time. My mantle is now overflowing. I decided to load more pictures on it and take it to the office.
I was sitting at my desk today looking at the pictures. All but one random picture of the rabbit are of the girls. We have had the girls 15 months now and I feel like it's been years. So much has happened. They've grown so much. Because of the pitiful state they were in when they entered our home, the changes in them encompass more than just height and hair style. I think that's why it seems like such a long time. Although they have the same names, most everything about them is different now. It's amazing what stability will do for a child.
I sat all morning being amazed at the difference I see. I was struck with the notion that I should look at my pictures more often. Snapshots are so telling.
I'm so looking forward to the day when I can look at those snapshots knowing legally they are mine and that I'll be able to witness them growing up. I look forward to them being Lewis girls.
Thursday is a big day for us. My husband and I are both going to court to hopefully witness their parents rights be terminated. It will be a very emotional day. I feel like I need to be there so when the girls get old enough to understand all that's happened I will have witnessed first hand and heard all the evidence leading up to them being mine. The powers that be have told us so little. I pretty much get the gist of what's happened. I want to be able to share with them accurately how things really were. They've been lied to in visits and have recounted what they've been told. I look forward one day to setting them straight. The oldest is aware she doesn't know everything and has pleaded with me to tell her everything I know. I won't do that until she's mine. She's convinced that her parents are saints, but her resolve of late is breaking down. I can't imagine what that's like for her.
If you're a smoker and you're reading this, try not to hate me. I come from a very "religious" region. I think that's the reason why the isle of the grocery store where you go to get cigarettes is always the shortest. Perhaps there's a stigma. I totally capitalize on that notion. I almost always go through that isle. The wait is shorter.
