MIA for 23 years. Somewhat prisoners of war.

Well this will be interesting. Back in 2010, literally 13 years ago, i planned to pen an update sharing that we had initially planned to take two new foster girls, that didnt come to fruition because they were sent to another county, then we ended up taking two younger children and the bottom dropped out of our life entirely over the course. i'm not entirely sure I even mentioned being foster parents on this blog. I have a feeling this blog started (and stopped) in the only window of joy and normalcy we ever had. It was short lived.

Where I've been.....

I suppose I should explain the vicious abandonment of my blog....

1. Job search sent me traveling for several fruitless interviews between May and the end of June last year, when I was last present here blogging.

2. July 09 - took in a 6 year old child.

3. Decided to adopt the child and the biological sibling. (This is a very long story that must be confidential.) Freaked out at the thought of having two children to care for and a resume that remains rooted in a shrinking industry.

4. Applied to law school.

5. Got accepted to law school.

6. August 09 - Brought home the bio sibling of the 6 year old child.

7. 8 days later - started law school, with NO child care in place.

8. Learned that pre-school is not at all what I thought it was. There are huge waiting lists and expenses that are possibly bigger than the waiting lists.

9. Tried to keep it all together. Obviously, this left no blogging time.....

More to come.

Crash

Good morning Internet.

You may have noticed the prolonged absence on this blog. Please rest assured this is temporary, and normal posting will resume as soon as possible. Unless, of course, the main author's head does actually spontanously combust and thus render blogging impossible. The odds are not good right now.

Gosh. I guess I'll summarize in attempt to make this blog post less than twelve weeks long to read.

1. Sister got into a car wreck. (She's okay now.)
2. Grandma reached a point where she needs more support with things like weekly grocery shopping, etc. This is a pleasure, I assure you, and I am SO thankful to be out of a job and thus be able to be the lucky one to spend this time with her. (Unemployment is such a mixed blessing.)
3. My mother spend a few days in the hospital. Her heart can't handle her job. Her finances can't sustain the absence of her job. Everyone is full of fear and full of prayer with what will happen to GM. Whatever happens to GM will determine what happens to my father's job, and their entire retirement.
4. Aaron had a nasty class load that ended 48 hours ago. This kept me just as busy as he was. His summar load starts tomorrow night for him.
5. We helped friends move their stuff from Canada to the USA. Exhausting, and took way longer than expected.
6. My masters thesis has to be finished soon. I mean HAS to be. Or I don't get my degree without first retaking other courses. I graduate in August. You would not believe the workload I have right now, or the ridiculously short time I have to get it done.
7. Of course, I can't make a list of what's going on in my life without including the economy! and jobsearch! and financial worry! and stress. I have NO leads. I have LITTLE hope. I have LOTS of tears. This morning the news announced the unemployment in Michigan at 12.6%, and cited it the highest in the country. I thought I saw stats that it was over 13% a few months ago, but that may have been a different deal. Maybe one is state-wide and one is based on a national average? I don't know. Anyhow, the report of a current 12.6% status also advised we can expect to climb to 14% by the end of the year, and might even see 15% into 2010. What happened to the prediction that things were bouncing back? Hello, Obama? You there? We don't expect extravagance. I only want to work for a living as I've always done, feel a purpose, help feed and house my family, and not live in this brand of fear every day. Don't even tell me your posse can't fix this. Shut off the damn NAFTA pipe, place some proper tariffs on imports, use your "stimulus" ideas in ways that WORK, and get our economy back on track. This is an amazing country full of talent that can't be described in words, and we're falling apart.

Anyway. The next few days are going to be among the worst as far as crunch and workload. I don't know when I'll be back, but I know I will be back. And, hopefully, I'll be back with some sort of happy news to share, and a little less whining. Ciao, bellas.

Rough Weekend

Seriously, we're tired!

The fence is almost completely finished. One section (that has to be cut to fit) and the gates are left. That was a lot of work, and we are so grateful to have had help.

It's supposted to thunderstorm for the next several days. This means we'll probably leave the sections up that are just covering the openings on either side of the house so the dogs can use the yard without tethers. (And I can open the door at 4 am when there is whining, rather than put shoes and a coat on and go traipsing through the woods in the middle of the night with leashes.)

The case of the missing poop bag, a lost key, and tug-of-war

I have (had?) a key. One little key on it's own little ring. I grab it when I walk or run. If I have no pockets, I clip it to the end of Kenzie's leash.

Today I had pockets. Plenty cold enough for a coat this morning. The key went into the pocket with the empty poop bags.

We set off jogging down the street.

Kenzie picked her spot to poo. It was bagged. Jordy picked his spot. It was bagged. We set out on the rest of our jog with both bags in the hand that held Jordy's leash. 3/4 of the way through our journey, I noticed only one poop bag was in my hand. I decided to go run the loop again alone after the dogs were inside, because they both seemed tired, and were about 30 minutes past breakfast time. We all walked up to the front door, and, my key was no longer in my pocket. ???

We retraced our steps, pausing at each place we pulled out poop bags to use, and could not see the key. The dogs were NOT cooperating with the search efforts.

I brought them back home and stuck them in the neighbor's yard so I could run and search myself. I found the missing poop bag, and picked it up, but did not find the key. Releashed the dogs, brought them into our yard, and began to formulate a plan... Kenzie would not make it all the way to my parents after already having a decent length jog. I could not leave either dog on a tether unsupervised. (They can get hurt on those things. Truthfully, I hate those things with a passion and can't wait until we never have to use them again other than when camping.) I sat in the sun but still shivered. I'd worked up just enough of a sweat to now be freezing cold.

Eventually, I decided to take just one look around the house at the windows in case we left one unlocked, which we typically never do, but thankfully we did. The screen wouldn't come all the way out so I had to shimmy up underneath it and backflip into the house. (Wouldn't you love to see pictures of THAT? It was ridiculous.)

Before scaling brick and vaulting my body through a window, the dogs were making great use of their time in the yard. Jordy has started a bad habit when we walk him without his gentle leader and he decides it should be play time. He tries to grab hold of the leash and play tug-of-war. We redirect him and discourage this. Tug-of-war is a challenge over a piece of property, and the dogs can't be allowed to challenge humans. (They are so big and strong, the rules have to be strict, or someone could get hurt. They have to be good citizens all the time.)

But that does NOT mean they can't play tug-of-war with EACH OTHER! That is perfectly allowed. Although, I prefer they not use Jordy's nice leash...

Me: Hey! Uh-uh. SHhhht. Shht. Halt! Kenz. Jordy. Drop it.
Me: Kenz!! Jordy! Uh-uh! No! Drop it! Leave it!
Dogs: Fine. We'll use a STICK for our fun game. :o) And when it breaks in half, we'll lay and chew our respective halves. Go climb through a window, lady. We're hungry.

Two days late....

I know, I know. I was supposed to be back here Monday. And it's Wednedsay. To offer a follow up on the hot water tank drama, and reveal if Easter actually happened. Cut a girl some slack. Monday morning, my little brother packed up his car and took off for a friend's cabin in Standish. He broke down in Bay City. I went to help get his car towed back home. My mother took a separate car up, and shuttled him and his girlfriend the rest of the way to the cabin, so they could still have their vacation with the group. (The car situation wasn't likely his fault.) Then when I finally got back, we scrambled to Lowes to order up a fence. Yesterday I spent the day cleaning up from Easter, visiting with the friend who gave us her dog so they can move to China and not have him stolen for meat, and then running out to a meeting for foster parents. This morning I woke up and the cold I caught got the best of me. I moved pretty darn slowly for several hours. This is the sickest I've been in a long time.

So. On to the good stuff. The plumber came on schedule. They sent a female plumber. So of course, it got fixed. (Hee.) She was familiar with this problem and knew the ultimate fix for it - an entire new gas valve. The gas valve is the portion of the tank that has the design flaw and thus the ventilation problem. She said she's never seen one of these get a whole new valve and break again. An hour and a half later, we had steaming hot water, and were very happy.

Easter went fabulous. The night before, my grandfather fell at the grocery store and broke his arm. The hospital coldn't set the bones. He needs surgery. So he wasn't feeling good. Everything else went smoothly. I even found time for cute little placecards for everyone.

Happy Easter, Internet!

However you choose to spend this day, have a safe and happy one, and I hope you are surrounded by people you love.

xoxoxo

Scraggley

I'm seriously overwhelmed. Not a single room of my home is clean right now. I have a broken closet door. (Possibly two - unless the other one just came partially off the track again.) If the previous owners of this house ever show up again to try to paw through the mailbox I may have to take aim and shoot. It may not be so sweet of me to say so, but they were/are animals. I have not met a single neighbor on the entire street that cared for them one bit. I believe every single one complained directly to them or to the city at one time or another, at least once. The best story of all was when I finally me the legal owner of the house behind us. (She had two renters in there, whom we knew and absolutely loved, but they moved out, so she was cleaning up the yard and I went to say hello.) She said that these people NEVER ONCE cut their lawn, and what grass they did have was taller than a six foot man's kneecaps. They used to gather in the backyard, blare Arabic music, and dance together in the tall grass. Of course this story didn't surprise me after hearing so many others and seeing the condition of the neglected and abused house. But it was at least funny. Most of the stories were NOT funny. Like the youngest girl sneaking in and out of the windows and breaking piece of the window frames, because she weighed 400 lbs. The stories the inside of the house told were worse. Holes in every door and every doorframe from huge brackets for padlocks. Holes in every single wall standing. A kitchen cupboard charred from an oven fire. Urine infested carpeting. (Which was torn out immediately, before we even started working on the house, much less moved into it.) The most famous neighborhood story was a time an abmulance had to come to the house. Many believed the elderly mother had fallen very ill, as she was known to not be well anyway. What actually happened was her daughter got angry and pushed her down the basement stairs. Can you even believe it?

Anyhow. They were evicted and the house was foreclosed upon. They were not left homeless. It was a scheme from the beginning. The eldest son of the family got his name on the title, refinanced this house to the hilt, used cash from this house to build a much larger house in Macomb Township, and then they just stopped paying on this house until they had to move out. Then they all moved into the Macomb house and presumably live happily ever after. Many of them are on Social Security. It's a sad and irritating reality. We bought the place about a year or so after they left. The water lines had been blown out and winterized, and the utilities shut off. We could not be sure if things like the hot water tank or the dishwasher worked. As the luck with this house would have it, they did not. My parents bought us a dishwasher for our Christmas gift in 2007, and after washing dishes by hand for almost a year, I was as grateful as a human can be for anything. The hot water tank we struggled along with for awhile during the initial work on the house. (It was broken, but would heat a small amount of water. You'd get half a bathtub full before it came out ice cold, and it never got hot. Lukewarm at best.) Aaron was working down in Ohio so I made do with what I had.

We finally installed the new tank in August 2008, and had piping hot water for the first time. I could take a real bubble bath. It was blissful. Four days ago, there was suddenly no hot water. Oddly, the pilot was out. We relit it. It was reluctant to get going again. We got one more tank of water, and it was out again. Same deal repeated - relit, got one more tank, and it went out. Only then, it wouldn't even relight.

A bit of research showed that this is a common problem with this model. A short bit of reading and a call to Whirlpool revealed that Whirlpool has a "workaround fix" for this known design flaw rendering this particular model tank useless after 7 - 12 months on average. We paid $20 in overnight shipping for the "free" parts. Aaron spent almost four hours working on it the day the parts came. The parts did not help anything. Further research on the Internet revealed that these workaround parts have not worked for most people, and when they do, it's only for a short time, then the tank is useless again.

Whirlpool and Lowes have both known about this problem for FOUR YEARS. And they still sell them. One site on this problem had 40,000 hits.

We got a hold of Whirlpool once more and told them we were just taking the tank back to Lowes for a refund. They suddenly sounded interested after not being very helpful for several days while we bathed in water boiled on the stove and swore we'd never, ever, ever, buy anything made by them again. To know a product is bad and not recall it might have some sort of legitimate explanation. To continue manufacturing and selling a product for four years knowing it's defective is nothing short of criminal. And that's clearly what they've done. Lowes has offered full refund of purchase price for those willing and able to drain the tank and transport it back to the store. But why they are still purchasing this model to sell is beyond my understanding.

Whirlpool offered to send a plumber to our home. What this will achieve, I have no idea. There is a ventilation problem in these tanks. I am unclear as to whether they think this plumber is capable of magic, or plans to rebuild the entire tank, or plans to replace it (which I doubt.)

Now the worst case scenario, we welcome the plumber, who is receiving a paycheck for coming here, which supports him, his family, and the economy. This problem is certainly not his fault. He confirms he can't fix it. We drain the tank, take it back to Lowes, get a refund, run to Home Depot, buy a GE tank, come home, and install it. We'll have water by noon tomorrow either way.

However, I've not washed my hair since Tuesday. I'm looking scraggley, and I am seriously low on patience and grace. 20 people are coming for Easter dinner on Sunday. I haven't even grocery shopped. I'll be back here Monday if I survive.

The day's drama part duex.

So. I found those credit cards in less than five minutes, thank you very much. I guess the improvements in organization have really made a difference. This is a much needed boost of encouragement to keep going and finish making the house perfectly organized and easy to maintain before I go back to work. Assuming of course that I go back to work. Soon.

I found the cards, got online, registered and activated the new account number, and paid the $6.82 full balance. The due date wasn't until April 6th, but I couldn't see that until registering the new account number. So all was well. Until, I went on to pay the other credit cards.

And there on a differend card was a charge for Macafee. $42.39. We haven't had Macafee in over a year. Thus began the long drawn out process of calling and explaining to someone in India that I do NOT have a Macafee account, and someone has used our account number.

It turned out to not be fraudulent. It was a mistake, but not a case of stolen credit card numbers. They put through some sort of "auto re-enrollment" for our service that ended over a year ago. Nobody could explain how or why this happened. They seemed rather puzzled by it. But it's fixed. And now, at 11 am, I can go start the millions of other things I wanted to have done by lunchtime.

Please let me go back to work soon. This staying at home stuff sucks. If I had a baby here, it might be a whole different story. But it's just me and the dog. And a whole lot of organization to do. And floors to clean. Etc. etc. Today is also cat box day. See you all tomorrow.

Race against the clock.

And for today's drama, we have a credit card issue. I hate drama. And being that I went through the whole identity theft thing years ago and know the panic and fear involved, I really hate any issues relating to credit cards, bank accounts, etc.

It really all starts a few weeks ago when I casually opened an envelope containing two new Citibank cards, replacing our old ones. I thought these were just cards to replace ours when they expired. This happens on a fairly regular basis, and I thought nothing of it. I stuck them in the office, somewhere, and forgot about it.

About a month later, I got a call from a weird number with a 904 areea code. I ignored the call, googled the number, and it was Citibank's fraud line. Panic swept over me with a blanket of paralyzing fear. I called the fraud line back, and while looking at my account summary online, asked why they'd called. The woman was eligible for nomination to one of those Darwin awards. Completely stupid. She eventually said, "well, we're contacting you today because you have a $6 balance." WTF? I asked if the balance of $6 that she saw there showed past due. It did not. I informed her that I was looking at my account on the screen at that moment and it showed a zero balance. She was confused, fumbled around a bit, and I told her I'd call the 800 number and see what I could find. She was happy with this idea because it offered her a chance to avoid anyone expecting her to really think and so advanced problem solving, like read notes on an account.

I called the 800 number. By this time, I'd also noticed that the main screen online also told me that my card had been called in lost or stolen. Not so, I thought. It's in my hand. The guy who answered was far more competent than the looney in the fraud department, and he read through the notes, found out why it was hotlisted, and explained it had nothing to do with me, per se. They had a group of hundreds of accounts that were somehow "compromised." Coincidentally, this same thing just happened to our debit mastercards at the bank.

But here's the thing. Because I'm so responsible and organized and have kept the office sparkling since I last cleaned and organized it, I have no idea where I put the new cards. And, the payment (which apparently is $6 total) is due on either the 3rd, 4th, 5th, or 6th. It always falls on one of those days. Today is the 2nd. If that bill is due on the third, and I don't get the new account number registered today, it will be late. I'm never late. I'm disorganized as heck these days, but I'm never late.

So today, I'm on a quest to dig up those darn cards that I stuck somewhere for safe keeping. Wish me luck.

Wordless Wednesday

Okay, I know this is supposed to be wordless, and these here are words, but I don't want y'all to think I'm loopy and forgetful when in fact I'm just behind in life. I was supposed to put pictures up last Wednesday for Amy, so she'd feel better about her bird's nest. Those pictures I spoke of? They live on an external hard drive, where all my photos should live. Well, life gets in the way. I haven't pulled out the external hard drive to back up the year of photos on this computer much less to pull the pictures I had in mind to show Amy. Next week.... Hopefully....

Double edged sword

Ever get yourself into a situation where you are damned if you do and damned if you don't?

We're in one now. It's a small one - not a very big deal, but yet, we're in one.

We were a two-dog household. Our chow-chow came up to Michigan shortly after Aaron did in 2002. He was fine being the only dog. But we had to go and mess everything up, and get a second dog in 2005. Mackenzie. This ridiculous idea was discussed that we should be a two-dog household. I was younger and stupider then. I had no firm grasp on how reality dictates that we all have limitations to our capabilities.

Anyhow. Hurley, our beloved Chow, passed away last October. He was 16 years old. This is ancient for a Chow. Evidence of a good long life.

The addition that hit the household in 2005 has not recovered. We gave her weeks, then we gave her months. She's a Shepherd. A herding dog. Who had never ever to our knowledge been the "only dog" in her household before Hurley died. If we leave for too long? And she's home alone? Diarrhea for four days minimum. If we leave twice for too long in that four days? Diarrhea in the house.

She's 140 lbs. Imagine the mess.

There are so many things that have come to pass and given way to an easier, less stressful lifestyle. We no longer have to watch Kenz when she goes outside, despite having no fence. She never leaves. In fact, if you forget about her out there, which I often do, she'll whine at the back door and eventually make her way around to the front, hoping you might notice her there.

She has no desire to wander, only to be where her humans are.

And here's the problem. I need to go back to work the minute someone gives me an offer. I'm hoping to go back to school in May for a doctorate. Aaron works full time, of course, and also goes to school full time. In a matter of months, we'll be in a situation where we both have 14+ hour days, with stops home in the middle of work and school, and every time we come home, there will be a mess to deal with. Also, our dog will be miserable.

Sounds like an easy problem to solve, right? Get her a friend. I wish it were that easy. We are finally in an amazing place, where our one single dog fits in the back fo the jeep. We not only can run off and go camping, but we have extra seats in the vehicle too, for friends, or stuff, or eventually a carseat. Another dog changes all of that. We may have no choice but to put a fence up, stat. And that costs money. Food costs money. Vet bills cost money.

So we either take the financial risk and get another dog, or we take the risk of making our poor dog more lonely and more miserable and ruining our laminate floors. Getting rid of Mackenzie is not an option. She's family, and we love her.

Of the choices we have it seems best to get another dog, although I use the term "best" loosely. And, if we are going to introduce a new dog into the family, best to do it while someone is home all the time. How would we possibly change direction and bring home a dog when we are both working and going to school? That wouldn't work. We'd be in a world of trouble if we got to that point and didn't have things resolved somehow.

So over the weeks we've discussed that a dog will find us when the time is right. Someone who needs a home and fits into our family.

We went to the St. Patty's Day parade downtown, and Aaron was enamored by the Wolfhounds. He used to have one named Bob. A mix, actually, but quite a bit of him was Wolfhound. He really did have a fight with a real wolf at one time, and won, but that is a story for another day. Bob was a great dog. One of Aaron's favorites for sure.

So Aaron got home from the parade and spent some time over the following days reading up on the breed and whether or not there is a rescue spot locally that takes them when they need to be adopted out to new homes. There were none locally. No special rescues he could find. And, they only live approximately 8 years. The loss of Hurley is so fresh still that the idea of only having a dog for half the time that he had Hurley is inconceivable. The Wolfhound idea was put to rest.

And then, out of nowhere, an e-mail came in about a dog that needed a home. We get lots of these, and try to facilitate and pass this info around as much as possible. But this one sounded really interesting. This dog is a runner. He has his own champion chip. His owner runs 10K races with him. It's a male, which works, because we have a very alpha female, and another female would surely be problematic.

This dog is about Hurley's size.

And, it's a wolfhound mix. It has the same wirey fur and frisky look to him that Bob had.

He's been to puppy school and graduated. Fully trained. Knows over 25 commands. Two and a half years old - so he's still got a bit of puppy in him and will be resilient to the move.

Aaron brought it up somewhat gently. I thought it would pass. But he talked about the dog for two and a half days. I finally called. We're going to meet him today. His humans are moving back to Europe, and this guy can't go with them. He's free to a good home.

We're packing Mackenzie up in the Jeep and taking her out to meet this dog. They don't live close. We're all going to have a nice walk and see how the two animals interact. I have a feeling it will go very well, and we'll end up with this dog. It's a risk. But so is leaving Mackenzie alone and going back to work eventually. If the dog works out I'll just have to pray extra hard that I get a job sooner than later. Or, even better, that the darn condo sells in the next couple months. I can't ever remember having this much to pray for at one time. It's exhausting.

Spring winds of change

A friend said to me yesterday, "you can't save the whole world."

I've heard this before. And each time I've heard it, I've had the same immediate response resonate through my mind. "I'm not trying to save the WHOLE world, just a piece of it." And I moved on thinking that I was just misunderstood.

But I happened to have been reflecting back on much of the past year in particular at the time of this conversation, and all the sacrifice and difficulty that has been caused by many of my efforts to save just a piece of the world were front and center on my mind. And it hit me yesterday. My friend didn't misunderstand anything. Neither had anyone who had come forth with similar messages before her.

When I try to play too many roles for too many people, no matter how hard I've tried, I can't play all of those roles very well at one time. When I was a full time student and full time employee, I missed many family activites. So the role of daughter, sister, grandaughter, neice, etc. suffered. When I'm trying to be a foster parent to a child who's behavior should have landed her out on her bum months and months prior, and the screaming and throwing things and general tantrums make my home miserable for everyone, I'm too drained to be a good wife, or anything else for that matter.

My priorities have always been dictated by who or what needed my attention most urgently. You could call it a "fire fighting" approach. Foster kid melting down? Handle it. Dog whining? Run and let her out. Birthday party in 20 minutes? Run to Target and get a gift and a bag to stick it in. Husband seems like he wants my attention? Run from laundry machine to sit with him awhile, fold towels while I do. This reactive method of living isn't really living. It's just "getting by." It's tiring, and it makes you feel terribly exhausted and unhealthy.

Meanwhile, all the priorities that are important to me but not screamingly urgent never get taken care of. I don't do anything for my church anymore. I hardly visit my grandparents. For years, most dinners came out of a restaurant's kitchen because my reactive state of being finds the shortest path to rectify a problem rather than calmly plan and execute. Believe me, when you take on too much, there is no time to plan meals, grocery shop properly, and cook.

And then there are the PROJECTS! The dozens of projects that I've either wanted to do or signed up to do and I never get to. I told my grandmother I'd redecorate her kitchen years ago. I still haven't done it, but I swear I haven't stopped moving since. I still need to finish unpacking, clean and organize the basement and garage, etc. etc. And of course, there's the whole "getting back in shape" thing that always seems to go by the wayside because there are too many other issues demanding my time.

New priorities. I'm a wife, daughter, sister, granddaugher, neice, neighbor, friend, member of my church, and homeowner. I'm going to try to focus on just that for a bit and see if I can catch up and get things together. This isn't going to be easy. I find myself still checking e-mail three times an hour hoping the kid is okay, and thinking about whether or not to consider fostering someone new soon. But I have to get my life in order again before I can be of much use to anyone.

I have to learn to be a little bit selfish with my time and take better care of myself, and to focus on the tasks that have gone undone for far too long. I'm starting with giving up the computer ENTIRELY for a four day weekend. And when I come back here to this place on Tuesday, I hope I'll be able to say that I've caught up and I'm on track. Then I hope I can stay there, and not continue to take on far too much and struggle.

Fostering

I was just thinking about a comment from CJ. She mentioned that she "missed fostering." And it got me thinking.

We weren't really fostering.

I mean yes, we have a license, the kid came via the foster system, caseworkers, therapists, licensing teams, and heaven knows who else were in and out of our home constantly. But yet, our situation wasn't a real foster situation.

When we met this kid, she was 16, emotionally underdeveloped, deeply scarred, scared of everything, but sharp as a tack (or so it seemed.) She had a 4.0 GPA, and wanted to go to law school. She and I had so much in common as far as interests go, that it was FUN to work with her. Her situation was so unfair that we had to do something about it. We actually looked into adoption first, even though she'd be an adult in only two more years, because she so obviously needed a family. But we found out quickly that fostering was faster, free to us, and offered her far more support than the adoption system would. Literally, she would LOSE many benefits from adoption. She gets this special tuition incentive plan, certain things covered in her life through Youth in Transition funds, etc. etc. Foster wasn't the intent, it was simply the tool to acheive the means, which was to get her in a safe home.

I didn't deal with any bio parents or visitation. I didn't run her to the DHS office across town on a regular basis. We didn't have any of that, because she's a permanent court ward. There was no fear she'd disappear, because there was really noplace to disappear to, and no parent(s) out there to suddenly get his/her/their crap together and get her "back." She was intended to just become family, settle in, and stay forever. Somedays she wanted that, some days she didn't, and some days she had no idea what she wanted. I can understand some of it. I explained to her before that when you marry into a family? It takes months if not years before you really feel at home there. While she felt at home in our house and with just us, she felt awkward around the whole clan. She felt as if she didn't belong. And that is the theme of her life. She feels as if she doesn't belong anywhere. She was not willing to give it time. One of her biggest and most frequent complaints was that she felt nobody accepted her. Now in fairness, I'm not sure what she expected from anyoen to feel "accepted." Because our families were incredibly gracious to her. Nobody missed giving her a Christmas gift or a hug or an opportunity to be part of whatever was going on.

I wonder about true fostering. About the process of opening your home to a TEMPORARY situation, and caring for an innocent one until he or she can go back home again or forward to a "forever family" that will adopt. Of course the county has already asked us about it now that it's public knowledge we have an empty house. They need help. But I'm not sure about this right now. I'm exhausted, and my life is in shambles. This was way more work than I ever expected. I think we just need a break from everything whether we go back and do anything more with it or not.

Makin Babies

No, not us. The Internet. Because Amy shares ideas that are more fun than laundry.



Make your own babies at www.makemebabies.com

Accountability

It seems to be such a black and white situation. People either have it or they don't. A few of these kids I've come across have a fairly firm grasp of it. Some have none. The one who just flew this coop had none.

Everything was always someone else's fault. And when she did take responsibility for something in her heart, and speak about it, it was never anything of value to take responsibility for. For instance, she felt horribly guilty for seeking help when she'd been sexually abused. She took full responsibility for "causing" the state workers to intervene, and she took full responsibility for "causing" a court hearing and all sorts of other activities. She can hardly talk about it, the guilt is so thick.

But then we have even the simplest things that she can't ever seem to stand up and own. Her chores were the dishes and running the vacuum. Not a bad gig for a girl her age, eh? But she'd avoid it like the plague. That part I understand. Often I avoid chores like the plague. We all probably have those times. But then a time would come when someone was coming over, or even might come over, and if she was nowhere to be found, or moving slow, I'd have no choice but to step in and take care of it. This wasn't confrontational. I just got it done and expected she'd step in next time and do her thing. If you knew how much turmoil this kid caused, you'd understand we really avoid the nitpicky stuff becoming any sort of issue. I don't want to hear her whiny crap about dishes when I have to deal with her deciding that since she's possibly only 6 months or so from bagging a new boyfriend, she should probably get on birth control so she's ready. There were certainly always bigger fish to fry. Anyhow, on those occasions that I'd step in and do the dishes? So they were done? She'd feel some guilt that it was obvious she had not taken care of her responsibilities and she had no way to blame the situation on anyone else. See, if I hollered at her about the dishes? She'd be too busy seething with anger that someone dared yell at her. So she wouldn't care about the fact that she hadn't done what she was supposed to. The only thing of issue would be that someone got angry at her for what she felt was no justifiable reason.

She failed a few classes her first semester of college. The reason? She decided the online format of these classes was too much work, and was unfair. Nevermind that she quit doing the work three weeks into the eight week class. It wasn't her fault.

She got a job when she was 16, and needed a bank account. I told her why she should use a credit union, and how it would benefit her in the long run. I got papers for her, and in the meantime, she ran and opened a checking account at a bank. How she managed to do this at 16, I don't know, because a 16 year old cannot be part and parcel to a contract of any sort. Every check or swipe of a debit is a contract. The agreement between the bank and the account holder of a checking account is a contract. But I digress. I asked her several times how she was going to maintain her checkbook and balance her account, because she had no access to a computer, could not receive mail from a bank where she lived at the time, and was spinning out of control with this newfangled debit card. She insisted she'd be fine. But when she overdrafted countless times, and the bank finally closed her account, it wasn't her fault. They should have TOLD her the rules, not just showed them to her on a piece of paper she had to sign.

When she lived here with us and decided she might need a credit card, I told her she should not apply for anything while she has the checking account problem on her credit, because it will cause another hit to her credit, and a denial, neither of which help her situation. Sure enough, only a matter of months go by before Chase sends a letter saying thanks for her interest in their platinum mastercard, but no thanks overall. I ask her why she deliberately did exactly what she was told not to do, and her response? She didn't seek out the offer - it came right to her e-mail box. So it isn't her fault. All she did was fill it out. This particular one I couldn't even respond to. I was too busy thinking, is she this stupid? Really? I hollered at her good for not following directions, a skill that most six year olds can master but she struggled with daily at 18.

She ran into the stop sign at the end of our street. We reminded her you have to drive according to the conditions outside. She insisted that no matter what the weather, you should be able to drive 25 in residential. It wasn't her fault. It happened because there was too much ice, not because she drove too fast on it and couldn't stop.

She hit a parked car in an parking garage. It wasn't her fault. They parked too close to her car, so she "had" to hit them in order to get out and leave.

Our microwave broke recently. She's being told constantly to watch how much money she's blowing daily, and save some. (Which she simply cannot do.) When several days went by, and she was running out and spending money on at least two meals a day from drive thru windows, we reminded her that it costs a lot of money to do that. She replied that it wasn't her fault she had to buy food at fast food places because our microwave broke, so she couldn't "cook." I suggested a turkey and cheese sandwich, or maybe eating dinner with us as I'd asked her to do a few times and saw no interest, and she just left the room.

Nothing can ever be her fault.

Without a doubt, even her choice to run away will somehow in her mind be our fault, or the "system's" fault. Maybe both. But definitely not hers.

Packed

The foster kid's stuff is packed and ready to roll. That was a heartbreaking task, really.

Now on to catch up the rest of the house....

Brownies & Coffee for Breakfast

The struggles that have been going on in my life are starting to come to a close. Most, if not all of them, I could not discuss openly on the Internet.

But here's a synopsis.

My mother lost her job. It was a very unfair situation. She had a mock grievance process available to her, and she used it. She is not represented by a union, unfortunately, and the grievance process they have does not typically reinstate people who are discharged wrongly. In her case, it was so blatant, that she was reinstated with full back pay, and an apology. But, going through the process nearly killed her, and thus broke my heart in the process. If anyone reading this thinks unions have "had their time" or actually are a detriment to society, I have two things to offer to you. First, you are almost guaranteed to have never been part of a union that you needed. Second, you are almost guaranteed not to have a firm understanding of exactly what the union was formed to do, and the purpose it has served for people who now work in the NON UNION PRIVATE SECTOR. Like me. (Well, when I'm actually employed, that is.) Big business has put many stigmas out there that people believe, and those people don't realize how they are hurt by the whole deal. I beg you all to question this, and seek answers for yourself. I have formally studied labor relations in a non-partisan program - simply because it fascinated me. I was a believer that unions were becoming "old news" before I went through this program and was enlightened. That, with a better understanding of how an "economy" works, changed my personal view, and then made me angry that the media and businesses have the power they do to change the stream of information to the public. This is America, and it's supposed to be home of the free and the brave. Not home of the censored and belittled.

Anyway, she got her job back.

My sister came to me with a legally charged issue that she needed help with, and I was able to give her some help. That issue isn't fully resolved yet but I believe it is very close. She's not in any trouble. It's really one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of. So that is close to resolution.

I've been in the midst of struggle with our foster child. This has been the biggest strain on me for some time now, and the biggest cause for my being pulled away and not being able to write what I needed to write on here. She ran away on Thursday, and is staying in an undisclosed place with a "friend." One of the details in this situation has rendered her beyond our trust, and she will not be allowed back. For any of you who know anything about this particular young person and what we've gone through on her behalf, you know that's a big deal. I have kept a basic paper journal over the course of time. That information will likely get published at some point.

The therapist who is hired to do in-home therapy with the (former!) foster child came over this morning - he was far more worried about us given the situation than he was worried about her.

So here I am in my home that I love beyond measure, with only my husband and our pets. Relieved from the hardship and struggle that has been so prevalent in our home. Relieved from the worry about my parents' financial status. Peaceful. Happy. And not sure if we want to do foster anymore, or at least for a while. We need a break. And yes, breakfast is brownies and coffee. Life is good right now.

One request - please visit www.momentswithmoriah.blogspot.com (sorry I can't remember how to link) and leave love for this family if you have time. Now, I'm off to visit all my favorite blogs and see if Amy has started painting. Ciao everyone.

Wordless Wednesday

Apology. And a robin.

I've been MIA from writing for days, which should be a rarity if ever an occurrence at all. It's partially due to being very busy trying to help Aaron wrap up the tail end of his semester here. (I should say midmester - his stints are 8 weeks long each.)

But more influencing than busy days around here is a lack of anything positive to think about or write about. It's been a time of serious fear and worry. It's not as though these problems and fears are so personal that they can't be shared. It's really more that there is no humor or hope found in their descriptions. It isn't worth the time to write them and risk spreading dread. Also, it's not even as though I'd want to reflect back on those words later on this blog. I can promise you that when this time passes, most of it I'll prefer to forget the finer details of.

I know that's vague, which might be annoying to readers. I'm sorry for that. What I will say is that we're an entire family, all of working class people, and the economy in the Detroit area is really, really bad. Going through some of this myself is one thing. Watching my parents get touched by it is something else. It's devastating. And right now, every one of us is in fear of one kind or another.

And then right behind the fear and worry is the guilt that we are all still living under roofs with running water, heat, and electricity. The news this morning showed footage of these various "shanty towns" where newly homeless people have moved into tents. Tents! This took my mind driectly to a family I've known for a very long time with three young children who just lost their home. They live about four or five miles from us.

Just now I peered through tears into the backyard and saw the first robin of the season! Spring is here 11 days early for me.

I got a picture of it. I'm not sure if it's really visible in the picture or not, but it sat there while I snapped a shot.

Isn't it funny how little messages of hope come right when you need them the most?