Other People's Kids

After Action Report

2011-10-23T19:23:00.000-07:00

I don't think we'll be doing foster care for the foreseeable future. We have enough of our own problems right now...though I have hope that The Wife and I can work through them. "Pixie" was our last foster child for awhile, though. And I hope "Pixie" the best, and last heard she's doing better in her family environment. I've heard mixed results on the others we tried so hard and sunk our lives into so deeply. Some have been good. I hope we had a hand in that. Some have done not-so-good. I hope we didn't make their situation worse.

We might do foster care again...but I don't think it will be at least for another couple of years. So let's consider this a MAJOR hiatus. I'll continue this blog if such time comes as it makes sense. Until then, I'll be focusing on my own child. Panda. And The Wife. That's all that matters now.

Checking In

2011-07-28T17:06:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I haven't been posting in awhile. Nothing to post, at least foster-related. We're on a sabbatical from fostering. The good news is, I am currently in week 5 of my last 8-week course for special ed. I'll be taking a break after that from school to build up some more money to finish, but the only thing that will be left is a semester of student teaching. And then I'll be eligible to be a teacher. Special Ed, Emotional and Behavioral disorders. I fully expect that the first words out of my first student's mouth will be "physician, heal thyself". And I guess they'll probably be right, to a degree.

I did give the address for the blog to my current professor, and she claims to be suitably impressed with my archives here. I was inspired to give the address out to my class. I guess I'll see if any of them feel that the hours I've spent dumping my guts into this thing have been worth it...but I know that if I never wrote about another child, perusing the archives and remembering "Angel", "Pixie", and especially "Josie"...well, you can't buy those kinds of feelings with money. Not even in a Las Vegas hotel at 2 in the morning. I HELPED those kids. Whatever mistakes I've made before that or since...with those kids, I was the good guy.

And I think I will be again. I certainly can't promise anything, but within the next year or two perhaps, we may be in a position to reenter the foster wars. Right now our beautiful Panda will be three years old on September 2. We're focusing our energies on making sure that she has everything she needs. Right now, that may include a stick to fight off her grammy's incessant hugs and kisses. But once she's in school and we're moved to a new town (and county and possibly state) and we get a bit settled...well, things could get boring again. And we could get stupid again. And then, of course, the natural thing to do is start fostering again.

I'll never get the need to work with kids out of my blood. Never. Thanks, Mom.

Big Change Completed (mostly)

2010-12-13T14:54:00.000-08:00

Okay, so we now own and have moved into our new house. There are still some things at the old house, but we could probably get the rest out in one solid day's effort if we had to. I LOVE the new place, and all that remains is to get the old place sold before we go bankrupt making the payments (given our now-lower income). But once the old place is sold, our expenses go lower than my expenses have been since probably the beginning of my career.

I also should mention that "Pixie" is back with us, and has been for a couple of months now. Apparently going home didn't work out as well as hoped, and they placed her back with us to re-try the going home thing. She has been WONDERFUL. She treats Panda so well and Panda and the Puppies love her so much, it's like she really IS part of the family. I can't really detect any sign of any of the usual disorders (ADHD, ODD, etc) and she truly does seem to be a very normal, very likable teen. That's wonderful for us...though it does make for boring writing.

I suppose she does lose points for being a Packer fan while having grown up in Minnesota...but then, nobody's perfect, right? On the other hand, she plays basketball for the school team, so I get to give her coaching advice. I'm currently trying to get her to understand that anything the ref doesn't see isn't a foul, but she seems to be a little slow that way. My philosophy is that if both you and the person guarding you don't walk away with some bruises and maybe a little blood on you, then you didn't leave it all out on the court.

When I start teaching, I'm guessing they probably don't want me to coach basketball. Ah, well.

Big Change

2010-09-19T17:44:00.000-07:00

As planned, the house emptied out of kids at the end of August, and we have been reevaluating things. One thing we've wanted to do is downsize our mortgage...and in my case I'd like to get out completely from under it if we could. Well, turns out The Wife, who earlier was not ready to move, is now sufficiently recovered from our last move 5 years ago to do one more.

When I was looking through the local listings, I noticed two that seemed way too good to be true, at least on paper. I thought about them for a few days, reviewing the listings several times a day and forming my mind's-eye picture of them. I finally broke down and showed them to The Wife, asking her if she would go and see them with me. She's done this dance with me before, and she knows that if I can just get out and see them, she will be able to argue me out of wanting to move again. She agreed to go see them, and we had a showing of each of the two houses on Friday.

The first one turned out to be mostly a dog. One of the "2 bathrooms" was a toilet, sink, and shower in the corner of a basement that even I would have a tough time spending a lot of time in. The Wife probably couldn't even live in the house just knowing that that basement was under her. Sigh. I knew that at the asking price, it was just too good to be what I hoped it would be. On to the next house, which was only slightly more expensive with a smaller yard and very close to the center of our little town.

But a funny thing happened at that showing.

The worst impression I had of the place was the first instant I saw it. I suspect the same was true of The Wife. The more we looked at it, the more we liked it. Huge kitchen, HUGE basement that is unfinished but not at all musty or otherwise distasteful. HUGE 2.5 car garage. HUGE master bedroom, bigger even than the one we have now. Nice room for Panda. As an older (1913, I think) house, it had all kinds of nooks and crannies. Incredible number of windows to let in all sorts of light, just like The Wife likes. Roomy kitchen and dining room, and a living room that might be even a bit bigger than our current one, with an alcove on one wall surrounded by windows. Unkempt but very nice perennial flower beds. Officially 3 bedrooms, but we could pretty easily call it 5. Part of its life was spent as a top/bottom duplex, so there is a kitchenette upstairs complete with cupboards and so on.

It's right across the street from church, across the street from tanning & beauty salon, 2-3 blocks from the video store, Pizza Ranch, Subway and the grocery store. Walking distance from pretty much everything. Corner lot, and couples with small children for neighbors. A small yard, which may make it less ideal for the dogs, but mowing and snow removal will be much easier and there IS room for a run for the dogs as well as a place to set up a play set for Panda.

The price? Slightly less than what our equity would allow us to walk away with after selling our house, paying the realtor and closing costs, and so on.

By the end of the first showing, we were in love. Turned out Mom & Dad were paying us a surprise visit Friday night, so we called and had another showing with them. We fell more in love, and the folks liked it too. We stewed until this morning.

We found a way to get the cash fronted to us until our house sells, and at 11:30 this morning we put in an offer. There is already another offer on the place, and the bigwigs at the local bank (who owns the property) will be considering both offers tomorrow. The other one is contingent on financing and we're offering very close to the asking price (which is a little over 2/3 the assessed value of the property according to county records) so we're feeling pretty good about our chances. We should hear tomorrow afternoon what's going to happen.

We still plan to foster, but it may take a month or two to get the new place into shape for it, get inspections done, etc. It'll be nice that we'll be on city water and not have to worry any more about doing well tests, and it'll be nice for the kids to be living in town where they'll be closer to their friends. Of course, that also makes it easier for teens to sneak out and get into trouble with their friends at night. But all in all, I'm REALLY hoping this goes through. I've been dreaming for many years of living in a house without a mortgage. Looks like this just might be my shot at it.

Instability

2010-08-06T22:04:00.000-07:00

I've learned a lot about "Marcus" over the last month or so since I've been home. He has absolutely no words, nor seemingly any desire to start using any. His only vocalizations come when he is "stimming" (self-stimulating, which in his case usually involves jumping up and down with his arms raised in mild cases, or loudly shouting "eh!" when he's really cranked up.) He is usually a sweet kid, very affectionate toward both The Wife and me (especially me...his father was his primary caregiver at home), he loves to feel whiskers and has no compunction about feeling the face of any man he happens to meet, he loves spaghetti as I do, he's very gentle with Panda and she loves him.

Nights are not as good as days though, and sometimes they are downright bad...sometimes he seems evil at night to a tired parent who is ready to get some sleep. As I type this, he is peacefully out, but last night we were not so lucky. My first clue that something might not be right was that after listening to the shouted "eh!" for a couple of hours, things were suddenly VERY quiet. TOO quiet. Uh oh. Walking back to his room, I hit a wall of what can only be described as shit-stink. Crud. I jumped over the safety gate that keeps him in his room, and sure enough, he had his hand down the back of his drawers. He looked quickly around guiltily, and equally quickly he pulled his hand out and put it in his mouth.

Nearly retching, I grabbed his hands and kept them both away from his face and his drawers. A look around assured me that there didn't seem to be any "stuff" around on the floor, the dresser, his bed, etc. I carried him into the bathroom. He's between 50 and 60 pounds and this is not a trivial thing, but I was...exercised. Very motivated to try my best to make this a teachable moment if I at all could. Plus I was revolted.

Much, much, MUCH scrubbing later plus a pull-up change, he was fit to try bed again. After an hour or two more of "eh!" he finally fell asleep. The Wife has been very grateful to have me home (she dealt with this stuff alone for a month or two before I lost my over-the-road job) and I don't blame her in the least. I even took care of the kids this morning while she slept in a bit. No, I'm not the Best Husband Ever...quite the opposite sometimes. But I do have my points at times.

Anyway...the episode I describe was one of the milder ones. Except for the eating part...that was a first. But the cleanup wasn't as bad as several of the others. But it had gotten better...and that's what's bothering me, and what has me thinking, and what has me drawing parallels with other kids we've had.

Foster kids generally come to our house, especially in the current climate of the social work pros, with the idea of eventual reunification with their biological family. The prevailing wisdom seems to be that it is best in almost all circumstances for the child to live with their biological parents. While I can see the impulse in that direction, I disagree...but the other thing is that budgets are under even more than the chronic strain they are used to and let's face it, we are expensive. It's not just the foster care "reimbursement"...there are all the appointments. My Lord. "Marcus" has appointments several days a week, and some of them are over a hundred miles away. Mileage adds up, too. And there are many people involved in his care. Us, his guardian ad litem, the PATH worker, several people from his county, his geneticist, his regular doctor, his dentist, and so on.

All that, I guess, to say this: he has recently begun the "final stretch" of home visits that, if they go well, will pave the way for this reunification. Now let me be clear: his parents clearly love him. They have not abused him, and I'm pretty sure they would do anything they could for this little guy. That's not a problem. What IS a problem is that I really don't know if they are ever going to have what it takes to give this child the care he needs. From what I've seen and heard, it's questionable whether they are the sharpest tools in the shed to begin with, and even a seasoned parent might have trouble with the issues we're faced with daily.

And we were making real headway with "Marcus" before these visits started. He had settled in very gradually but pretty nicely. He was learning new skills (eating by himself with a fork was a big one), going to sleep VERY nicely at the appropriate time, his "stimming" was gradually disappearing, and it was getting easy to love this little guy. Immediately after the home visits started, all the progress we had seen reversed itself. Not completely, but very noticeably so.

This isn't just "Marcus", either, and it's been a problem with nearly all the placements we've had where reunification was a realistic possibility. Long-time readers will recall the issues we had with "Josie" (still one of my favorite foster kids of all time)...those got a LOT worse when the county started to push constant home visits. Same with "Tammy". And the rest.

When I was a kid and it was my folks doing the foster parenting, it was much more usual that there would be a visit every month or two, for a day or two. Now for "Marcus" we (or a PCA) are expected to drive this child an hour one way, wait for 2+ hours and then drive home. As a reward, we get to be kept up for an hour or two while a child yells "eh!" and watch him eat his own poop.

I've been contacted by people who are considering the possibility of being foster parents, asking me what it takes. What it takes, is to read this post and still want to do it. If you think you can handle this stuff, knock yourselves out. We are. But then...some people think we're crazy, and they're probably right. People will think you're crazy too. Be ready for that.

The Great Smoke-Out

2010-08-03T19:14:00.000-07:00

Last week, we had a fun incident. "Elaine" decided it would be a great idea to smoke in the bathroom in our basement. This is a bit of a surprise, because we didn't really know her to smoke. Furthermore, we haven't had this problem because when kids insist on smoking, we tend not to make a big deal out of it. We just provide a coffee can on the deck and tell them to keep it out of the house. The Wife has made a specialty of complaining very vocally about how their clothes and hair smell, but we don't forbid it.

It was a little more disturbing in this case in that she pulled "Pixie" into her shenanigans, and 13-year-olds are pretty impressionable, especially when a 16-year-old brings them into their confidence. We do NOT want "Pixie" learning to smoke on our watch.

Well, I've described in the archives many of the projects we have pursued on the way to completing the basement. There are only three left. We need to install a wood stove. I need to put up some shelving in the storage room. Oh my goodness that's right...I also need to finish venting the fan from the bathroom to the outside, instead of into the furnace room as it is now.

"Elaine" wasn't aware that the fan was not fully installed yet. It was not difficult to tell that someone had recently been smoking in the basement, but she steadfastly maintained her innocence to The Wife. Later I broke her by the expedient of warning her that if she had any other smokes she needed to turn them over, or I would be finding hard work for her to do if we found them later.

"Elaine" has pretty much given up on trying to make it work here, and is spending all her time trying to figure out ways she can spend as much of her remaining time as possible at her grandmother's, where it sounds like she can do mostly as she pleases. Recently her grandmother let her go to a concert, where she decided she needed to be in the mosh pit. She got head-butted in her eye, opening a large gash that bled all over her dress. She showed her masterful decision-making ability by staying for the rest of the concert because she didn't want to miss the last band, presumably bleeding all over herself and everybody else for an extended period of time before going to the hospital and getting three stitches.

That one will boomerang out of her grandma's and back to either residential or foster care again...I just hope nobody gets hurt in the process....especially "Elaine" herself. There's a lot of good stuff in that one...she just needs the structure that apparently the powers that be aren't willing to provide for her at this point. Seems like kids need to be at least 90% wrecked before someone notices that maybe they're not in the best situation and gets around to helping them for real.

Time With "Elaine"

2010-07-29T19:40:00.000-07:00

I had to take "Pixie" to town to an appointment and "Elaine" decided to tag along. I didn't mind...I like both of these kids a lot and it was a good chance to spend some time being the dad.

We dropped off "Pixie", and along the same block were several shops. A thrift shop, a couple of antique places and so forth. It's a tourist town. So we decided to just browse some.

Let me first of all say that I strongly resent finding a Kiss album in an "antique" shop. Okay, so it was vinyl. But "Love Gun", while it may be a classic, is certainly not antique. Ditto for Bon Jovi's "Slippery When Wet". For cripe's sake, people! These guys are still doing concerts! Though, it wouldn't surprise me if one or two of the Kiss guys take geritol...

Anyway, after taking "Elaine's" jokes at my expense and having a generally good time poking fun at some of the old stuff together, and after her being a good sport and going into a book shop with me, I let her drag me into a teen fashion place. We tried on glasses...I don't think I would make a good-looking teen girl, by the look of me in those glasses. She had a fit over some "Boyfriend Watches" that were labeled "Trend Alert!" Personally, I don't think I have a use for a watch that has a "jelly band", whatever THAT means. As we left, the only other male in the place was leaving too, with what looked like his wife and little girl. He looked at me and muttered "was that as much fun for you as it was for me?"

While I'm guessing that I felt about the place about like he did, in my case it was totally worth it. It's important, if you want to develop a good relationship with a kid, to sometimes do things that the kid wants to do, and to at least ACT like you're having a good time. They know well enough that you're not going to have as good a time as them, but they tend to appreciate the effort, and it ties you together. It also makes it easier for them to feel like they really should do things with you that they DON'T want so much to do if they know that maybe next time there will be something in it for them.

Give and take. Sharing things. Building relationships. Those are, after all, the things that we wanted to get out of fostering, yes?

Kid: "Pixie"

2010-07-27T20:36:00.000-07:00

The latest addition to our family is a 13-year-old girl. She just got here yesterday so we really haven't had much to judge her by yet, but so far all seems pleasant. Tonight she spent a bit of time with The Wife watching TV, and even took my usual role of getting a snack for The Wife in bed. Hmmpf.

"Pixie" and "Elaine" seem to get along very well together, watching the same kinds of movies and liking the same kinds of music. They even look a bit alike, in a way. Tonight they came to ask if they could bring the portable DVD player into their room to watch so they wouldn't have to lay around in the next room (their own private living room with a 50" plasma-screen TV). Apparently they're equally lazy as well. The answer, of course, was "are you kidding me? Get out of here."

I haven't yet read "Pixie's" file, but I'm told she has quite the depressing history. She doesn't show it at first blush...but I hope we're able to gain her confidence enough to help her out with the things she needs to work on. She is only slated to be with us for a month, but that could change. In any case, The Wife is known for working well with teen girls. From my own observations from being in the trenches with her for a few years now, I'd be more likely to say she works miracles with them. I definitely married above my level.

Kid: "Elaine"

2010-07-26T16:39:00.000-07:00

I should have introduced "Elaine" before now...she's been with us for months. However, she has been very smooth to have around and frankly doesn't provide juicy material very often. Still, she's come to be an important part of the house and deserves recognition.

"Elaine" came to us from a girls' home, and is currently destined to go live with her grandmother. She is very much a typical teen, who likes softball, guitar hero, boys and shopping. We haven't had any major issues with her, and don't anticipate any in whatever amount of time she remains with us.

Ebb and Flow

2010-07-25T11:36:00.000-07:00

The Wife, as I have said before, is the heartbeat of our household. We'd be completely lost without the energy and effort she puts out each and every day...especially days like today and yesterday, when I've been fighting a splitting headache and am not much help. But Panda and the various kids that come and go make up the rest of the body of the place, and we've had a fairly interesting group this past week. One 16-year-old girl who I have not introduced--but who has been with us for several months (she is about to leave us, it looks like)--is here, along with another 16-year-old girl who was here for the last week for respite from one of our colleagues' house. They are both good kids and have had a lot of fun together and with Panda. We also have "Marcus", of course, plus his two PCAs have been in and out, one of which is a virtual member of our household already being the son of a close friend of the family and the other of which is new to us but seems very compatible with us.

All these people along with the usual pets have combined into a very nice unit for a week, issues with "Marcus" notwithstanding. It works out that way sometimes. You get a glimpse of why you wanted to do this, and a peek at the sort of fine people the teens could grow up to be if only they listen to at least part of what you're trying to teach them.

Plus, there was spaghetti. No week is a total loss if there was spaghetti.

Tomorrow we are supposed to be receiving a new 13-year-old girl, who is scheduled to be staying with us for a month or so, until school starts. Should be interesting to see what she's about. I know her age, gender and first name, and that is all. Life is nothing if not dynamic.

What if You Don't Like the Kid?

2010-07-24T20:30:00.000-07:00

People get into fostering because they honestly love kids and enjoy having them around. They want to help them. Foster parents who get into it for another reason (money, a sense of "civic responsibility", or whatever) invariably flame out inside of a year or two. You have to love the kids, period. Nothing else will do.

However, we are human, and humans run into other humans that they simply don't like. Other times, you can like another human, but then that human does something that causes you to not like them anymore. This can even happen when there are good reasons for the thing that person did to make you change your mind. It can be a disease (alcoholism, autism, retardation, tourette's, or what have you) that you fully understand and that the person has little or no control over...but still you just can't work around it for whatever reason.

We have experienced this a couple of times since we started fostering, and it is brought to my mind by the "potty issues" we're having with "Marcus". These issues are something he can't help and we're working with him on them, but they are causing us to honestly not like him, and in some cases dread even dealing with him. After all, how many times can you slap a kid's hand away from digging between his legs while he's on the toilet before you start to get squeamish about taking his hand, hugging him, and being intimate in a parent-child kind of situation? The sanitary aspect of it alone is enough to make you want to avoid having him spend time with your own child.

You can start out with the best of intentions and have a fair bit of experience and still begin to resent having to clean up human feces time and time again...not only from his pants and clothes which is pretty natural, but from the bedclothes, bed, floor, dresser, window, walls, and everywhere else he can reach. Not to mention his face, hair, ears, nose, mouth and every other part of his own body. Something inside me is beginning to revolt at the idea of keeping on with this if we don't see some sort of improvement soon. We may have reached the outer limit of our expertise.

I'd be interested in hearing from anybody who has had to deal with this kind of problem on a protracted basis. We've had kids spread feces (and even in one case blood) on the bathroom wall and of course we've had kids mess in their pants, but I've never, EVER, in my life as a foster parent or my earlier 11-year stint as a full-time foster brother, had to deal with an issue of this kind quite so severe. And The Wife and I are starting to get tapped out for ideas. I'd love to just zip the kid into a ziplock when we put him to bed, but something tells me The Powers That Be would frown on such a course of action.

Comments welcome.

Changes

2010-07-23T11:37:00.000-07:00

As regular readers know, I was studying to be a special educator last fall. I continued that until this last spring, when I had to withdraw from school to be...a trucker. Yes, I got my commercial (class A) license, and went over the road. This was necessitated by a combination of the facts that I had lost my contract in software, there are not many other opportunities in that vein in rural MN, I didn't want them anymore even if they were there because I'M SICK TO DEATH OF WRITING SOFTWARE, and I needed a job that had health insurance. Trucking seemed like a good idea at the time, at least until I could figure something else out.

I started in early April and went until late June, at which time I had Two Very Bad Days. Accidents on two back-to-back days, mostly due to a faulty trailer. Of course, that's my fault too, because I should have caught the problem(s) and refused to pull the trailer. Needless to say, I lost the job, and am now back into the routine of life at home, looking for something different.

I've applied for things as disparate as "research associate", shipping/receiving, and terminal operator for a fertilizer company, but just today I mailed a resume for secretary/special education for the day treatment school down the road. That's the only job I've applied for that I have a real interest in, and I'm REALLY hoping I get an interview. I'm now scheduled to finish school at the end of fall semester 2011 (I restart where I left off in November) and I would LOVE to have an "in" in the local district. It has health insurance, even if it doesn't pay that much. I'll take it if I can get it.

Kid: "Marcus"

2010-07-23T11:17:00.000-07:00

"Marcus" came to us some time ago, but I've only gotten to know him in the last few weeks since I've been home again (more on that later). He is nearly 4 and, by the best guess of those who know, autistic. He doesn't talk. Or rather, he doesn't speak. He does make certain things known very well, like for instance when he's unhappy about something. Specific communication is challenging, but the broad strokes of how "Marcus" is feeling at any given point isn't very hard to decipher.

"Marcus" has "potty issues", especially at night. In fact, without trying to get too graphic about it, he is also something of a sculptor. He also enjoys some...uh...UNIQUE facials. Yes, it's that bad sometimes. Enough so that we have done away with the carpeting in his room in favor of washable stick-down tiles. Only one incident since then, and it was a LOT easier this time, if not any easier on our stomachs.

Still, this little boy is often fun to be around. We're likely to burn out over the long run given his many, many, MANY special needs (including at least one appointment in distant towns every single day) but we'll see how long we can last. People like him used to be immediately referred to institutions I suspect, but with budget cuts and so forth I guess they put the B team on the field. That's us.

From the perspective of a person who is studying special education, "Marcus" is a fascinating case study. I would guess he is about at the developmental age of 18 months or less in most ways. Absolutely no toilet training, no words, and very into immediate gratification. His parents clearly love him dearly, but have great difficulty meeting his needs. I can't say I blame them.

As I currently understand it, we are to have him for at least another month or more.

News From the Past

2009-11-30T19:21:00.001-08:00

I'm truly enjoying my selected course of study. I started school in September, a 20-month course in Special Education with a specialization in Emotional and Behavioral Disorders. Because it's not enough to just be able to come home to foster kids swearing at me...I want that same privilege ALL DAY LONG. Heh. Anyway, I've finished 2 classes and will finish the third, and the first semester, around Christmas time. So far, I'm maintaining a 4.0 average, with a decent chance of continuing that through my current class. Next semester I begin my "field experience", where I get to spend an hour and a half per week in an actual special education classroom assisting the teacher. I'm really looking forward to it.

But the reason for breaking blog silence at this time is that we've had our first news of "Angel" pretty much since she left our house. We had thought the system had swallowed her whole and we wouldn't be hearing from her again. However, The Wife was at a class (which she described to me on the phone half an hour ago as "excellent") and she ran into "Angel's" guardian ad litem. Apparently they had a very nice talk, and The Wife got an update on how things were going.

Our intution about her language skills turns out to have been sort of vindicated. If you recall, she had little to no English, which was perhaps the biggest component in our frustrations. She had no other language either...except that it turns out she did. We called it...well, I can't give her real name, but we called it [her name]ese. Call it Angelese. She used consistent words and syntax to mean the same things...it just wasn't English. She is at the same foster home she went to from us, and it sounds like they have done great work for her. She now has better English and it sounded like while she isn't at age level in a lot of areas, she's at least on the road.

The guardian at litem also said that she "constantly" uses us as an example of foster parents who were failed by the system. "Angel" was with us two months. We were promised home aides and other support inside of two weeks and never saw any, plus we couldn't get a county social worker on the phone, so I concur with her assessment wholeheartedly. After two months of The Wife and I basically being under 24/7 house arrest because we couldn't leave her alone and there was nobody else around to provide respite, we made the reluctant decision to bail out because if we didn't, we ran the risk of permanently burning out on foster care. That's a risk we weren't willing to take.

The bright side of this is that we now know that at least one person appreciates the effort and sacrifices we made for "Angel". For one thing, the guardian understands the position we had been put in and sympathizes. She told The Wife that in speaking to people, she often points to our situation as one that can't be allowed to happen to foster parents. I hope she speaks to many, many people. That was hell, and the more who know about it the better. At least some good came out of it.

For another thing, I think "Angel" had some influence on my eventual decision to become a special education teacher. I think she would provide enough material for a book to someone lucky enough to work with her professionally as an educator. I'm really, REALLY wishing that she was with us now as I go though school, so I could reference her learning and behaviors in my papers and discussion for class. Plus, as I mentioned many times in the archive, it was definitely not all heartache and pain. I had some truly joyous times with her in my household, and she was truly a character. Mom still mentions the time she stood up at the supper table and gave us all a full sermon in Angelese.

Another great thing is that while the county was completely unresponsive to our needs at the time, The Wife's incredible efforts in getting the proper assessments done and services in the pipeline seems to have panned out nicely for "Angel's" new foster home. It sounds like they got the services they and she needed almost from the get-go, and it has made the difference. She now has a stable and loving home. And that's really what it's all about, right? Also, we spent a LOT of money on that little girl, and had a birthday party for her at which we made sure she received a lot of great gifts. She came to us with nothing, and left with many clothes and toys to call her own. Apparently that has not gone unnoticed, either. We did not make money on that placement. We usually don't...but that's a subject for other posts later, perhaps.

I'm suffering from a lot of guilt though, though, in spite of everything. What if we could have just held out another couple of weeks? It sounds like we were SO close. We REALLY didn't want to "abandon" that little girl...we just didn't feel like we had any other choice. It was either terminate the placement or put ourselves at legal risk for not following the letter of the rules. And we truly did not and do not feel that we were given a fair shake. I have a lot of anger about that to this day. I clearly remember feeling for awhile after that like we were the only ones who cared about that little girl. And that made it all that much harder to let her go further into a system that had failed her up to that point. I can say that that was one of two low points in fostering where we nearly flamed out entirely.

I hope sometime that I have the chance to speak to that guardian ad litem personally. I have many questions about how she saw our part in that mess, and how "Angel" is doing. I'd love the chance to see "Angel" too, and see if she remembers us. She could be a really sweet little girl, but she also had a LOT of anger which came out in completely inappropriate ways. I think I'll pray for her tonight. I hope she is and will remain well.

I have no idea if I'll be posting anytime soon or not. I have to do a lot of writing for school, and that seems to relieve the itch quite a bit. But I do know that I'll return to regular posting at some point. I still have to get the poison out somehow and school won't last forever. I still feel as though I have one or more books in me, and once I start teaching I suspect I'll have a steady stream of great material. Hope all is well with my old readers that happen along and see this, and I wish you a happy and contented Christmas season.

Past, Present and Future

2009-06-26T19:56:00.000-07:00

I'm going through a change in life. Weird, since I just went through a major change 4 years ago, buy hey, that's what life is like, right?

Anyway, I'm writing this to let any readers I have left that I'm mothballing this blog for awhile. I do have good reasons, though, and I don't know that it will be forever. I just thought you might appreciate a heads up on my plans.

I've been doing software development for 17 years now. It's a good career, and it's served me well. However, it leaves me a little cold and frustrated these days. Nobody really cares about my work except me, and it won't leave any lasting impression in the world. In that respect, my part-time work fostering is far more meaningful than what I spend my days doing, often for 50 or more hours a week. If I'm going to be pulled away from my wonderful family for that big an ongoing chunk of my life, I'd like it to mean something big to somebody.

So I think soon I'll be going back to school, probably 100% online if I can manage it. I want to become a teacher at the high school level, or possibly junior high. I've spoken with a few people about it, and they all seem to immediately feel like I'd be a natural at it. I've done a lot of work in Boy Scouts and in fostering with this age group, and I have a special love for kids that are having problems of one sort or another. I really like it when I can legitimately feel like I've made a positive difference in someone's life. The best way I can see to accomplish this, given my skill set, is to get into special education.

One of the people I spoke with was a fellow foster parent who is also my wife's supervisor at a day treatment school (who is also a recent PhD in Psychology or somesuch) and who has hired special ed teachers for the school. She seems to think I could do this, and said she would consider hiring me after I get the proper certs and stuff. Of course, she takes 4-5 teenage girls at a time, so she's probably certifiably insane herself, but that's another story.

I figure I have at least 25 years left in my working life, possibly more the way things are going in our economic system. I can't spent that long doing what I do, or I'll end up a hollow shell of myself with not much to show for it except money. That's no way to live, and I won't do it.

So I have some serious academic challenges ahead of me, and I'm hoping to start sometime soon, whenever we can get the money saved for tuition and stuff. I'll continue to foster as we love it, it's needed here and it will be an excellent source of inspiration and fodder for class assignments. It will also keep me networked with the local people that I'll need to suck up to in order to have a better shot at getting a job when I'm done.

This isn't going to leave me much extra time for blogging and other outside pursuits, so I'm just going to let this blog go dormant the way it has been for a little while now. I may pick it up again later, once I've met the new challenges I've set for myself. My best guess at this point is that it will take me somewhere between 1-2 years to get myself positioned for a hire into my new field. At the end of that, we'll see. I may have professional ethical prohibitions against it at that point, but if I don't, I may well begin again.

Until then, I just want to thank all the great readers that have cared enough to leave comments and encouragement for me in this space. It's been a really exciting time and good experience to start up foster care and take care of these kids. I hope some people have found things here that have been useful in their own endeavors to help the kids that need help. Take care of yourselves until we meet again.

Or until I get mental constipation again and start writing. Heh.

Agency Discontent

2009-04-20T19:23:00.000-07:00

Anybody who has ever done any foster care at all must have at some point wondered whether they were working with complete doorknobs. We are no exception. This was an expected "feature" of existence in the foster world, at least for us. We knew there would be good social workers and bad, good administrators and bad as well as good kids and bad.

But lately, it seems to us that the agency we have been working through has been really slipping. They don't seem to have been interested in our opinions on issues regarding the various kids we've had, they seem very out-of-touch with what we go through, and there's a certain amount of...distraction there. They're not focused.

This was highlighted this last weekend. Last week was a bad one for "Jake". The previous weekend, he had had a friend over. He apparently showed her or told her that he had "a gun" and some "drug paraphernalia" hidden in our house. Rule #1: if you're going to do stuff wrong, make sure you can trust people to keep their mouth shut before you show or tell them anything. Anyway, she goes to the same day-treatment school he does and she told one of her counselors, and the jig was up.

The cops came over and rifled his room, finding a bb gun and a pot pipe, which The Wife seemed to think was clean enough that it had never been used. "Jake" was taken to the hospital. Twice. Apparently they decided he was a risk to himself and others, at least briefly. There was general upset, and while he didn't have much to say about the whole episode, I think it was unsettling for "Jake".

You see, I've gotten to know this kid, and my gut tells me he is a decent person and can be trusted with most things (being alone with a girl he finds attractive NOT being one of them). I would personally feel comfortable sitting with him behind me holding a knife OR a gun. Let's face it, people. When you're dealing with troubled kids (or people in general) you're placing a certain amount of faith in God. If they really decide that they want to kill you, they're going to find a way to do it. A gun just makes it easier. And there's a far, far, FAR greater chance they'll do it to themselves before they'll do it to you or your family. And they'll find a way to do that too if they're serious, gun or no gun.

But "Jake" has been mistreated by the system, from what I can see. How else to describe the circumstances of a kid who's spent like 11 years in the system and been juggled around to well over 20 placements? They say he's RAD. I would be, too. So would you, if over 20 homes didn't want to hang on to you. At some point it stops being a disorder and starts being a rational response to how the world seems to be treating you, I would think.

Now...the professional mental health people have fully evaluated this kid, and some of them (people I trust) have raised concerns about him. They see something in him that isn't quite right...and I respect that. The kid does have problems. My issue is, have some of the things that have been done to "help" him caused those problems to be lesser or greater? There is now a dedicated husband-and-wife team who have gone to the trouble of learning to know this kid, who like him, who have at least some talent in working with these kinds of kids, and who desperately want to help him. Shouldn't such people be incorporated into attacking the problem and finding solutions? Apparently not.

The agency's response to last week's brouhaha? Friday night, at about 9:30pm, they called us and said they'd "feel more comfortable" if we would ship him to a town about 1.5 hours away for the weekend, to a group home he'd stayed at before. Immediately. No, they wouldn't provide transportation. Either way. Arg.

Mom and Dad happened to be over that night and were going home, and while grossly out of their way, it wasn't as out of the way for them as it would have been for me to drive all the way there and back again, so they volunteered to drive. Bless their hearts. For the 10,000th time.

I had the happy job of telling "Jake" that he would be going, and he had about 10 minutes to get his stuff ready. I made sure he understood that this was most definitely NOT my idea or The Wife's.

I am seriously considering whether we wouldn't be better off jumping ship from our current agency and just joing the local county's stable of foster homes. The reimbursement would probably be lower and the cases wouldn't be quite so..."Interesting". But then, we'd have an easier time raising a stink when something didn't seem right, and the cases would be much less..."Interesting". Heh. "Interesting" is very much a double-edged sword.

I think there's a lot of fostering left in us, and that seems to be rare. Not many people are built to take the abuse from kids, government bureaucracies and so forth that are sometimes required of foster parents. Cops have a similar requirement...they take a lot of crap they don't deserve from people who have no right to be dealing out crap, too. I admire them. I would be a horrible cop.

But we may need to make a change at some point. For now, I think The Wife is leaning toward trying to work this through, and she's probably right. She usually is, and I'm usually too eager to jump ship on things, so I'll follow her lead on this for now. But there IS a limit on what we can really accept, too.

And then there's "Jake". That poor kid has really been a stellar performer since he came here. By far the easiest kid to live with that we've had in most ways. I think we may have started to build some trust with him. He's got nobody else in the world except a sister that we haven't heard from since he's been here. He contributes as a family member, and loves the pets and Amanda. We've set up a nice little suite for him downstairs where he has better access to the 50" TV than we do. He cleans the basement without being asked, and does most other chores with only one asking. He pitches in on special home improvement projects, he cooks dinner once a week or so, he has an ironic sense of humor I love, and he is comfortable enough to give me an unending stream of guff about the state of my 1996 tracker that, shall we say, has seen better times, particularly since it was totaled hitting a deer and was resurrected to play the role of "old beater" for the rest of its days.

We can't let him go. He's only got a year of school left, and we could actually make a difference with this one. He's the kind that could decide to adopt us as his unofficial, or even official, family for the rest of his adult days. And we would welcome that, if it was what he wanted. I'd love it if he came back to visit for the occasional weekend and we went out and fished. That's the stuff life is made of, especially when I get on in years and fishing starts to look like a better and better way to spend my time.

This post feels a little disjointed...but then again, I guess that's how I'm feeling overall right now.

A Haitus from my Haitus

2009-04-14T18:17:00.000-07:00

Anybody who is a long-time follower of my adventures knows that I'm prone to long, unexplained absences from this space. I warned you, back in the dim mists of the past when I started this thing, that I will not allow this thing to own me, and if I don't feel like posting I won't until I feel like it again. So there.

On the fostering front, nothing much has happened lately anyway (unless you count the cop and two sheriff deputies that stopped by for a nice little search of the Boy Child's bedroom today, but that's another post for later).

But the adoption front...well, let's just say that after months of anguish and worrying, many legal threats, thousands of dollars in legal bills, health problems for the birth mom related to stress, and some other rotten stuff, the court date finally came last Friday.

And the tribe didn't even bother to show up by phone.

All that crap they gave us, all the pain and heartache, those horrible days in the hospital after Amanda was born, and they didn't even bother to let us know it was okay now.

I'm going to say this now, and then I'm probably not going to mention it again. The Indian Child Welfare Act is a poorly written legislation obviously put together by B-team congressional staffers with no real-world experience. It is being used at least in some cases to punish women whose decisions the tribes disapprove of. It is fostering a bitter culture of racism and entitlement among many Native Americans, and it is building bitter resentment among non-natives who are/were otherwise well-disposed toward people of other races, including natives.

In short, it's a crappy law written by crappy lawyers being used by crappy people to do crappy things, and it should be at least massively amended and probably repealed at the first possible opportunity.

So then.

We have our beautiful little girl. She now officially has our last name, and is ours for life. It's almost like she knows it, too. In court she charmed the judge completely. The bailiff looked like some kind of pro wrestler, and I swear he was grinning from ear to ear when he thought nobody was looking and I was afraid he was going to get down on the floor and start playing with her.

She's our angel, and nobody can ever take this one away. Heh. Can you tell I've got it bad? Of course, as Daddy, it's my official duty to show a picture. Enjoy. I know we will.

Death Visits Us All

2009-01-31T21:15:00.000-08:00

I had a best friend in high school. Let's call him B1. Actually he was my best friend from about 4th grade until graduation. He obviously was a major influence on my life at a very formative time for me.

He had an older brother that was three years older than us. Let's call him B2. He remains to this day one of my closest friends. He is an extreme victim of his own intelligence. He is vastly more intelligent than I am, I can say that without even hesitating. He graduated at the top of his class (rightfully so)...but he should never have been given the microphone at his commencement address. He delivered a valedictory address in about 1983 that is remembered to this day. Oooh. He talked about the president having his finger on the button, and how that was going to doom us all, etc. He embarassed his family, and (if he had only been able to understand at the time) he embarassed himself.

In later years, I kept in touch with both of these gentlemen. In August of 1991, B1, B2, myself and one other mutual friend went on a trip together. Many things happened on that trip, but suffice it to say that B2 embarassed us all.

Both B1 and B2 went to the Minneapolis area, as did I. I stayed in touch. They did not. Very difficult situation. But in the fullness of time, I came to the realization that B1 simply had made a clean break with his past (except for his family), which unfortunately included me. Too bad so sad, right? Except that I am not used to losing my friends. I had not yet given up on him then, and I have not yet given up on him now.

B2 is a more interesting story. He lost himself in drugs first, then in alcohol, though he'd never admit it. At one point, I'm pretty sure I was instrumental in getting him to go back to school. The guy was a valedictorian back when it actually MEANT something after all.

I say all this to say that their father died on Monday, and B1 called me for the first time in (I think) 20 years to invite me to the memorial service. I went today. It was...interesting.

First of all, they're Methodists. The Methodist style never appealed to me. Let's all get as dressed up as we can, no matter how uncomfortable it makes us, so that God will be happy. Somehow I don't think God cares so much what we're wearing.

But I did have a chance to visit my hometown, and also visit these people and their family, all of whom had such an influence on who I am today.

You have to understand that the man who died was a judge. He was an outstanding person, besides. He was also an insufferable man, a man who caused no end of consternation among his fellow citizens...but also a man whose passing caused a lot of pain, reflection, and self-examination among those who knew him well and those who knew him at all.

Such a man is to be revered. He is to be remembered. His words are to be, if not "followed", at least to be taken to heart. The program informed me that his political persuasion runs directly against me own. This does not surprise me. It actually makes me sing with joy.

Because if this man is politically against me and yet still loves me as he so clearly did, then I am still free to believe as I do and all is not lost.

God bless this man. God bless his family, as they struggle to learn what it is to be a group without his leadership. And God please let this be a vehicle for B1 and I to become closer. I am willing. Is he?

Only God knows.

Story Found

2009-01-27T18:14:00.000-08:00

"Jake" is an interesting person. I found the following story written longhand in our kitchen. I don't know if he wrote it or copied it, but either way (grammar corrected because it drives me crazy)...

MY LIFE STORY

There was a little boy, a man, and a mule walking. After a while people noticed the man riding the mule, and said "look at that horrible man let the poor boy walk." So the man let the boy ride. After a while the people said "look at that nasty boy make the old man walk." So they both got on the mule. After a while the people said "look at those nasty people torture that mule." So they both got off and walked alongside the mule. After awhile the people said "look at those foolish people waste a perfectly good mule."

No matter which way you do it, it's wrong.

This kid does some thinking, and does have ways of expressing it.

Cabbage Patch or Cop Shop? Meh. Same-Same.

2009-01-19T18:38:00.000-08:00

Saturday we went to my company holiday party to collect a nice free dinner and a door prize. As the prize-giving was winding down, we got a call about an emergency placement. We are apparently the only baby-ready foster home they could find on short notice anywhere in the area.

Needless to say, we stopped off at the cop shop on our way home and picked up a brand spanking new foster daughter, 7 months old. She and Amanda have already hit it off, and I'm pretty sure they've agreed to be in each others' wedding parties by now. Women bond quickly, you know. Especially when they're sharing tummy time and stuff. They'd be going to the bathroom together if they could...maybe The Wife and I should be changing their diapers next to each other at the same time to foster a lifelong friendship.

This little girl is in trouble, though. Bad, bad, BAD situation with the mom. Not sure about the dad, but it doesn't sound good. Based just on getting to know the little girl and examine her, it's not good. She's WAY overweight, with no detectable muscle tone. Her legs could just be so much spaghetti, and her favorite thing to chew on is her foot. When we took her into our laps and started playing with her, it was like she had no idea what we thought we were doing (but it did look kind of fun).

Our impression has been that mom hasn't done much besides sit her in the corner in her carrier or crib and prop a bottle once in awhile. This was reinforced in my own head when The Wife told me she had fed her at night and she downed an entire bottle pretty much without even waking up. She seems starved for affection and attention, and isn't really sure what to do with it when she gets it.

On the other front, we've been having trouble getting Amanda to eat. Since the new child is on a different formula, we thought it would be a good time to begin switching Amanda, so we started that on Saturday. The change has been instantaneous and miraculous. This child who acted so hungry and then stopped eating and started crying almost immediately now starts eating and then takes the whole bottle nearly in one breath. She's probably eating close to twice what she was eating. I have a feeling she'll be putting on quite a few pounds over the next couple of months. Fingers crossed.

In the meantime, we're enjoying the interaction of these two. At 5 and 7 months, they have no idea about race or differences between them. Amanda has not the slightest worry that this girl is overweight, and what being seen with her will do to her image. They only know "hey, there's another little person in this land of giants. Maybe she wants to play!"

Ah, to be an infant again. No, scratch that. I had a hard enough time figuring out the whole toilet thing the first time around. And I'd REALLY rather not go through the whole kindergarten thing again if I don't have to. My kindergarten teacher taught me what it was to have the little hairs on the back of your neck jerked when you misbehaved.

Today, that would likely get her crucified by the ACLU, but in the early 70s it was a very effective and widely used technique to get early control of the troublemakers and thin their numbers (I was more or less a thinnee I guess)...and MUCH more effective than "time out", no matter WHAT the "child experts" say. Holy crap, but that woman was effective. I'm still scared of her a little bit, and I think she died several years ago.

The Greatest Joy

2009-01-15T09:48:00.000-08:00

It is with a spinning mind and an immense joy in my heart that I hereby announce to anybody who cares that I just got The Call from The Wife. The judge has approved our adoption, and in a couple of weeks we will officially be Amanda's mommy and daddy.

I'm in shock. I've become so conditioned to the idea that nice guys finish last, and the court usually makes the decision I would rather they didn't, and the law was more often used to cause mischief than to deliver justice. That we should be granted this gift finally, after all the shock, grief, wrangling, rage, muttering, cursing, pleading, and who knows what all else over these last months...well, it's a kind of gratification I don't recall ever feeling. I MAYBE felt something akin to this when I studied and worked my last quarter in college to earn 26 credits, and, for the first time in my entire scholastic life, received straight A's on all 26 credits' worth. And then, if I hadn't been so tired of school I just didn't want to deal with it, I could have participated in commencement exercises for two different schools within a few days of each other. Instead, I just fled to the lake cabin and spent a week or so sitting on the dock, tanning, fishing and recuperating.

I don't need recuperation this time, though, except maybe emotionally. And I have a wonderful wife and beautiful little girl to help with that, thank God.

I...I don't have any more to say right now. I have to work the rest of the day anyway...I may have more to say on the subject tonight. Or maybe I'll just sit and hug my little girl awhile and think about how good God can be when He has a mind to.

A Delightful Phone Call

2009-01-14T18:33:00.000-08:00

I just got a call from one of my former foster sisters that I haven't seen for many years, though I do get news of her through Mom from time to time. It tickled me pink to hear from her, not least because she was calling to thank me for our Christmas card. Her father is suddenly dying of acute Leukemia, and it sounds like it has her rattled...her mother died 5 years ago, and the rest of her family are...well, let's just say there's a reason she was in foster care as a teen. But the letter I wrote and sent with the card got to her at a low point, and went a long way toward cheering her up. That alone made the whole Christmas-card-sending hassle worthwhile.

I remember her dearly as one of my favorite foster siblings of all time. She would sit with me and watch All Star Wresting, and when it was done we would whale the tar out of each other with body slams, flying elbow smashes, "The Claw", "The Sleeper", and every other goofy wrestling stunt we had just seen. I enjoyed this because it was SO much fun...but also because she was a few years older than me and I was right about smack dab in the geographic center of puberty. She was blond. She was hot.

Pubescent boy gets the chance to wrestle with an older hot blond girl. Yowza. Sign me up.

But she just had this really-good-friend-who-I-could-trust feel to her, and we always had a special friendship when we still saw each other. We could cry on each other's shoulder. There's not enough of that in the world.

She's had a pretty tough life, and not all of it has been self-inflicted. Probably not even most of it...and she actually managed to foster herself with some success for awhile, though she's had her problems as well.

It sounds like she's in a pretty good place these days, though. I've been meaning to get on my motorcycle and go back and spend a day visiting old ghosts in my hometown where she still lives...maybe I'll drop in on her and see how she is. Life is too short not to do something like that every great once in awhile, don't you think?

For Your Reading Pleasure

2009-01-10T15:32:00.000-08:00

If you have extra blog-reading time to waste, going forward I have decided to set up another blog at http://undiscoveredcolumnist.blogspot.com.

I am committing myself to two articles per week on that blog to start, and may increase that if inspiration seems to strike often enough to support it. My idea is to try to build up a body of more polished work that I can shop around to newspapers and what have you in an effort to land at least a part-time professional writing gig. I don't really care much about the money...long-time readers here will know that this is just something I've wanted to do for a long time. The novel isn't bursting out of my chest like an alien, but random jottings certainly seem to with some regularity. Time to see if I can craft those into something someone will pay me to write.

Constructive criticism on writing style, content, etc. will always be welcome over there. I'll be in thick skin mode when writing that one, and I'm especially interested in any criticism by anybody who happens to be any kind of writer, editor or publisher. And I'm REALLY interested in any contact from somebody who wants to send me bucketfuls of cash (used, nonsequential, unmarked bills are preferable) to write that type of thing for their publication.

Defect Detected

2009-01-09T19:47:00.000-08:00

"Jake" does have a defect that is becoming apparent...he's kind of a jerk to some of the other kids at school. I don't mean a normal jerk...but it sounds like he's something extra special at times.

There is one girl who is also a foster kid that goes to that school. We have done respite for her a couple of times, and aside from the fact that even death will not shut that girl up, she was pretty pleasant to have around. "Jake" told her that she would never get a date because she was ugly. He told her this twice. When confronted by school staff, he claimed freedom of speech and said he wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true.

Chivalry is not dead, but it's on life support and I'm looking for the defibrillator.

We are to apply some sort of consequences at home to go with the in-school suspension he earned himself. Problem is, there isn't much he really wants to do, so we can't prevent him from doing it. As a first step, we've banned him from watching TV in the basement for the amount of time he's in ISS, and limited his use of his game console. He'll probably have to help me finish the tiling in the basement tomorrow.

Next step will be to eliminate the game console entirely. Next after that...heck if I know. Maybe make him make supper every day 'til he's out of ISS. He actually cooks pretty well...but he also seems to enjoy it usually. How do you "punish" a kid who's either apathetic toward or appreciative of your punishments?

I can honestly say I've not run across this problem before.

Bad Tidings

2009-01-08T18:44:00.000-08:00

The Wife received a call from "Tammy". Apparently, "Tammy" had been in touch briefly with "Celeste" via instant messaging at some point recently.

According to "Tammy", "Celeste" claimed to have run away, and was now living in the Twin Cities. She seems to appreciate the fact that now she can have all the drugs and sex she wants, with nobody to tell her what to do.

"Celeste" has yet to reach 15. I have a bad feeling she won't make it to 18.

If you are not a foster parent but are considering it, you should bear this type of situation in mind. If you do this for any length of time, it WILL happen to one of your kids. My folks had one girl whose ultimate dream job was to be a hooker in Minneapolis.

It wouldn't be very strange--if you did it for a long time--if one of your kids died while you still knew them. And there's always the (smaller) chance that they could die while in your care, through no fault of your own.

But you'd have to live with that, just the same. It behooves you to at least consider whether you or your family could deal with such things before you find out the hard way.

Evaluation

2009-01-06T19:29:00.000-08:00

"Jake" impresses me more and more as I get to know him. He has to be asked to help out with a house project only once, and rarely skips out before the project is done. He clears the snow off the decks after being asked once. We have not had a single argument with him. He gives The Wife a little lip, but nearly always with this curious little half-smile that I've come to know means that he is kidding.

He's kind to the animals, and has been solidly adopted and duly worshiped by Zach. The cats love him. Suki has fit into a houseful of cats and dogs as if she had been here all along, with not a single accident outside her litter box.

"Jake" also wants to join the military...I've been told he wouldn't have a great chance at getting in, but I'm not sure why aside from the fact that he takes meds. If he could drop the meds at some point, I think they'd take him based on what I've seen, but I guess there could be things I don't know about. His former foster parents for whatever reason tried to discourage him from joining by reminding him that people get killed in the military.

D'oh! Being willing to give your life for your country (if necessary) is the whole point. Nice side benefits are gaining discipline, self-confidence and a sense of mission about your life. I tried to join during the run-up to the first Gulf War (disqualified because of some medical issues...damn). I have no doubt I'd be a better person today if I'd made it in. And I've only ever personally known two vets who stated that they would rather they had never joined, and they both had to kill a lot of people in Vietnam. I've probably known a hundred vets (including Dad), all of whom benefitted in various ways from their service as much as the country did.

But anyway, this kid seems normal in almost every way, which is amazing given the few things I've learned about his family situation. Absolutely amazing.

And incidentally the reimbursement for this one is the highest of any kid we've ever had. I will NEVER understand how they assign those values. It seems like the reimbursement has an exact inverse relationship with the difficulty of taking care of the kid.

Sigh.

Anyway...went to see "Marley & Me" last night for my birthday. Excellent show for a dog-lover who loves to write. It gave me an itch to start writing more again. Maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree trying to get started on a novel. Maybe I should be looking for a gig as a columnist. That would be like blogging, only with deadlines and stuff. That could be seriously fun.

Characters: "Jake" and "Suki"

2008-12-09T17:43:00.000-08:00

"Jake" comes to us from a nearby town. We've had him on respite a time or two before, and he seemed a decent kid at that time. He was actually the one I was with the single time I managed to get my new canoe out on the lake this summer. During that fishing trip and during his stay with us, he was extremely quiet, respectful, and VERY helpful. When you're trying to do hard work, a motivated teen guy looking for something to do is exactly what you want. He fit the bill for us admirably, on one or two occasions (we're constantly doing things around here that require physical work).

It was a little weird, actually, with his former "foster" family. I use scare quotes because I'm really not sure what his situation was. They seemed like a foster family, but they had rules and did stuff that seemed like they should be illegal or something. Isn't it unreasonable (in most cases) to restrict a 17-year-old to their room after 8:00pm unless they've done something to deserve it? They did...and no real explanation why other than that they "needed that time for family." Well, if you're not willing to include your foster kids in your family, doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose? Massively??!! I do this, to a major extent, the way my parents did it. These kids *ARE* a part of the family for as long as they live here, and for as long AFTER they live here as they treat us decently and want to continue to be associated with us. Or if they realize later that they *should* have treated us more decently and would LIKE to be associated with us.

We're not picky.

Another weird thing...we were told this kid has a history of "abusing" animals. I flat don't believe it. I've seen him with our animals when I know he didn't know I was there. I've seen him with our cats. We are confident enough in this that we've broken our own rule against foster kids bringing in their own pets because he has a cat he aquired somehow during his last foster placement, and she's BEAUTIFUL. It's white with grey face, paws and tail. It has blue eyes, and would be a siamese, except that I KNOW siamese, and she ain't it. For one thing, I kissed her on the lips and I still have my face. For another, she hasn't said a mew yet. Siamese cats ALWAYS announce themselves. Frequently. And their voice is very distinctive. Plus, they usually have "differences of opinion" with other pets, and she has fit in remarkably well. Yes, we're a 4-cat, 2-dog, 4-person household.

But back to "Jake". He's tall, lanky, and from what The Wife says, he should be good-looking to girls his age. I don't see it, but hey, I thought they SHOULD all fall in love with me in high school and college and that was a bust, so what do I know?

Apparently he *IS* good-looking to at least some girls, because he's already approached me all man-to-man, asking what sort of rules we had about dating. This is, of course, due to some sort of budding relationship he has going at school (already, after a week!) with a girl I'm sure he thinks I know nothing about. The Wife has already scouted this out, and she approves of a relationship between the two. 'Nuff said, IMHO. My job now is to encourage him to treat her like a lady, run interference with The Wife when she gets TOO harsh on him kissing her and so forth, and damned well getting our X-10 home security system back up to snuff before things get too far along. We wanna KNOW when things are happening.

Heh. I like this kid so far. He's respectful, he knows how to go along to get along and seems to have a good sense for how far he can push things, I think we can help him, he likes to fish and hunt, and it's a VERY WELCOME change of pace from the all-drama-all-the-time girls we've had to deal with mostly so far.

No, Your Honor.

2008-12-05T18:37:00.000-08:00

You just don't really know someone until you've seen them in court. I've been in court several times...recently, mostly with foster kids. You see whether they're good liars then as a foster parent. You pretty much know what the truth is, and you know when they're lying to the judge. You get to see what they look like when they're lying to the face of an authority figure. That comes in handy.

Yesterday, I got to see our birth mom in action. I'll do an entry on her soon, and I'll call her "Sylvia". This woman was magnificent. She cried at the right time, she said the right things, and most importantly she meant it all, and there was no act being put on. She made it clear to the judge that she would not let the tribe have this child. If we were not to adopt this child, then she would take her home and do the best she could. You can be sure that if that were to happen, we would do whatever we could to help her. We love her almost as much as Amanda.

Once again, the tribe literally phoned it in. You know, if they care about this child so much, why don't they show up in person like the rest of us have to? I have to make special arrangements at work for each of these things they inflict on us. I took a week of my precious vacation time for the birth, to which the tribe did not bother to send a representative and about which they really didn't seem to care beyond noting their legal obligation to make objections about us adopting. Which, of course, made my vacation time basically misery. I'm still trying to recover from that one.

Our lawyer was surprised they bothered to show up. Apparently this was unusual. "Sylvia" wasn't surprised, nor were The Wife or me. There is SOMEONE in that tribe that, we think, has it in for "Sylvia" because of her two children that were placed with family members in Montana years ago. There is a very good story behind why each of those two children were conceived, and it's not my place to divulge that information here, even anonymously. Suffice it to say that I don't know whether the tribe has knowledge of any details there. Either they don't, or they're the most heartless people I've run across in my life...and that's saying something.

I said "our" lawyer in that last paragraph because I think of him that way. He's actually "Sylvia's" lawyer, but we're paying for his considerable expertise in this particular area of the law. An example: he was actually able to get the judge talking about a particular MN law, and work in the fact that he personally had written an amendment to that very law. He has no right to anonymity, so I will say that his name is Mark Fiddler, and his web site can be seen at http://fiddler-law.com. He specializes in ICWA in particular and adoption in general. He's the best in MN in this area, he came highly recommended to us from MULTIPLE sources, and he's a very decent man, and I have the utmost faith that if this thing can break our way, he'll make it happen. The way he performed in front of the judge said enough for me. He's expensive, but not as expensive as some lawyers. If you REALLY care about what you want, you don't worry about money anyway. For our part, we're technically going without representation. Unlike our government and many individuals I could name personally, we don't believe in promising payment we can't deliver, and the one lawyer is going to be expensive enough, thank you very much.

Pray for us. We've fallen so totally head-over-heels for Amanda that we can't go back now, no matter how much it costs. Mark told us he already knew what the tribe would say after their 20-day delay, and he already was composing in his head what his response would be. He wouldn't need to charge us much for that because he's written many similar letters to judges.

We can't let ourselves think too much about the possibility of failure. I've seen how part-black children are treated by kids from "the rez". Granted, it was back in the 80s...but it can't have changed THAT much since then, and it was HORRENDOUS. Racist Indians (and by no means are they all racist, but enough of them are that it's a problem) hate blacks even more than they hate "whitey", and that's SAYING something.

So pray for us. Pray especially for Amanda. Pray that whatever happens, God will watch over this precious little girl and make sure that even if it's not our place to parent her, at least she ends up in a loving home that treats her right. She deserves no less.

Daddyness, Business, and Other Stuff

2008-11-08T22:45:00.000-08:00

Okay, people. Here's the deal(s).

1) I'm now a daddy. Not officially (of course), but in all pertinent respects I'm Amanda's daddy. I change her diaper at least once a day, nobody is telling me I can't be her daddy, and I think she may have already called me "dada", though I think that last one may have just been wishful thinking while listening to her communicate to me her need to pee. At any rate, the Tribe has mostly cried uncle and we're just waiting for the required time (90 days in this case) and then we'll finalize and be done with it.

This tribe has cost us thousands of dollars and untold heartache. I've described a very little bit of it in this space, but there was a lot more that went on with that whole thing. In the end, we never did get to know why they did it. I only have one further comment on that...if they're treating other people like they treated us, then I predict there will be no Indian Tribes (at least as "sovereign nations") in 50 years. They're in the process of proving that not only are they not soveriegn nations, but they have a crappy foreign policy and should be conquered.

2) We will soon resume full-time fostering, I think this next week. We're switching to boys for a bit, and our next ~~victim~~ child is one that we've had for respite during my dormant blogging period. A post dedicated to him will be forthcoming soon.

3) Big changes may happen soon. I just need to get The Wife fully on board with some of this, but...

I NEED to own my own house. And by "own" I mean "not owe anything on it". I've decided I don't WANT to make mortgage payments every month. I'd rather just make tax and insurance payments every 6 months or whatever.

Tomorrow, we have a real estate lady coming over who has looked at our house this last week and will tell us what it's worth in the current nasty market. If she gives the right answer (i.e. high enough) then we MAY be looking to list our house. I've found a house in town that seems to be a hot potato and nobody wants it. I can see why. It definitely needs at least a full shingle job within one year or it's going to leak and the rest of the house will be worthless. The realtor also seems to think some plumbing will be necessary to make it livable. I can live with that. I can do some plumbing, and so can Dad, but mostly I know guys I can hire to do a spotless job of either shingling OR plumbing if I'm not having to make a mortgage payment.

And once the shingling and plumbing is done, we can then channel money toward knocking down walls and putting in others to make the rooms how we want, installing whatever we want, etc. Because this house is HUGE. It was a bed-n-breakfast in a previous life, and it has at least 5 bedrooms. It's three stories plus a full basement. It doesn't have nearly the yard we have now, but I know I can work with it and I THINK I can get The Wife on board if our house was to be listed (to be decided) and if it sold before this thing did.

And given its hot-potato status, I also think we could get it for less than it's being advertised for, which is less than I thought possible for ANY 3-story building.

And then, we can be putting money away for a rainy day. Because I've also begun to wonder about my desire to continue with software development. I'd love to go independent, but there doesn't seem to be anybody anxious to hire me for a 3-month gig or whatever, and I've been trying for years. I'm tired of trying to keep up with the changes, which come about every 6 months or so.

I look at general business, and it hasn't changed in decades except for the application of new tech. So I want to be a businessman. I'd like to just be able to APPLY the new tech, and not be responsible for dreaming it up. I've got a great head start in this area, and I think I could put it to good use, even in a small town.

We'll see. Anyway, after the new year I'll have an official daughter (plus probably some new bills) and we may or may not be moving into town.

As Forrest Gump would say, "that's all I have to say about that."

Not Ours Yet

2008-10-14T19:13:00.000-07:00

There are those who make it their business, when I have not written for awhile, to funnel their dissatisfaction in my direction via whoever they know will be speaking to me. You know who you are, out there. So things have changed, and I should catalog our journey.

No, Amanda is not here yet. Apparently, after giving us face-to-face permission to have Amanda part of the time, the social workers decided "oh, we didn't really mean that, and even though we told you that we're extending the trial period by two weeks." Argh.

One night a couple of weeks ago I was woken at about 1:30 in the morning by a call on my cell from birth mom. She was feeling really down, and we ended up talking for well over an hour. It was a great talk, and for some reason I wasn't even really tired while we talked. She's a really special lady, and I'm glad we drew her in this weird lottery.

So she called again last week, same circumstances, only this time she was crying. Apparently there is a guy she has been letting crash at her house during some days when he doesn't have anyplace else to go. He's a guy from her church, and even has done some lay preaching there. Only this night, he apparently had a different kind of "lay" on his mind, as she woke up when he tried to climb into bed with her.

Guess he won't be doing a lot more preaching in church. There's now a restraining order on him, and birth mom said he may not be having children, either. Heh. I told you she was feisty. She's a great lady...just don't piss her off.

Anyway, we got our first lawyer bill yesterday. Gulp. Actually, it wasn't as bad as I was fearing...especially considering that the county has been so screwy with this whole process. The Wife thinks they're just being extra careful, so that the Tribe doesn't swoop in and make off with Amanda. Maybe she's right...but we have very good, solid and multiple reasons from our past not to trust this particular county's social services. Personally, I just think they're incompetent. But even the most incompetent, or even downright evil entity in the social system can only drag things out so long.

The latest target date for birth mom to get back official custody is a week from Friday. I'm pretty sure they set it on a Friday so they could keep us from getting on with our lives for just one more weekend. I think they sit at home and swill wine and smoke joints and laugh hilariously about how much they've toyed with us and thrown our lives into chaos. But that's probably just me.

But we've been getting copies of the emails the lawyer sends to those involved, and I get the feeling that things will move straight into warp drive once birth mom has legal, unhindered custody. Letters and phone calls will go to the Tribe letting them know what's up, our very experienced, very ICWA-aware lawyer will be talking to the right people and letting them know that what they did is NOT cool, and we will be paying through the nose awhile longer.

And it's worth it. When I first heard the kinds of amounts it takes to fight this kind of battle I sort of blanched. But now it doesn't matter...and the lawyer seems to think it won't drag out. I hope he's right about that...but it's no longer a matter of a simple adoption. It's a matter of being royally pissed off on several fronts.

We are NOT bad people, and yet this system has let us down...BADLY. At least on paper, we are eminently qualified to be adoptive parents, yet we see counties and the state repeatedly force children back into abusive or otherwise unsuitable homes. When a birth mom finally picked us, the Tribe interfered with an adoption that was sought out by the mother of a child that is less than 1/8 Native American. The county has put the child in protective custody for an extended period, apparently to protect the child from being adopted by a qualified family that already has a loving relationship with the birth mom and her first child, a home for her to go to and all the baby stuff she'll ever need.

Well, NO MORE. We'll play by the rules for as long as we have to, and then we will exercise our prerogatives and force them to follow the law when it's finally on our side. Fair is fair, right?

The number one reason for putting up this fight against seemingly everybody is that we were allowed to be the first to hold Amanda, and believe we were her parents until after she was born, and we've fallen in love with her. Make no mistake.

But there have been bad actors and a screwed up system here, and any help we've had we've had to buy. It's not right, and they WILL NOT outlast us. We will have our family, and no amount of hemming and hawing and screwing around is going to deter us. We will fight this until there are no legal avenues left to us, and then we'll make life miserable for whoever we end up losing to. It's that simple. Because it's our turn to be happy, and have our little girl.

Hang on just a little longer, 'Manda. Daddy and Mommy working on it, and you'll be coming home soon. For good.

Ooh, Yeah. Life is Good.

2008-09-17T20:16:00.000-07:00

We have been working with our birth mom to try and figure out what to do, as you can well imagine. We have now determined that for all intents and purposes, the guardian ad litem is on our side in the dispute with the tribe. So is the county social worker. So is the judge. So is the birth mom's lawyer. So is everybody else that is involved in any way, except for the tribe.

Further, in the first meeting, I discovered today that the representative of the tribe introduced herself to the court as the "tribal prosecutor". This week she was "the ICWA worker". Our birth mom calls her "the witch with a B". Heh. She's a feisty one. She described with glee how the judge kept cutting her off, telling her that her points were irrelevant, and so forth. I had to smile.

Anyway, with the tacit approval of all but the tribe, who don't need to know, we are going to proceed to parent this child on at least a part-time basis until we can find a lawyer that will take the case pro bono or at least for an amount that we can talk ourselves into paying. $30000 isn't an amount we can justify, so we may be looking for a little while. Justice can be had in America, but it ain't cheap, especially when you're going up against a protected minority. Even if you are one yourself, as our birth mom is.

So tonight we drove to pick up our new little poop dispenser. Her skin has gotten a bit darker since we last saw her, and she may have gained just a bit of weight, but she's still very small (5 pounds minus about 1/2 ounce at birth...may have gained a half-pound or something so far). We just got home.

It is not my habit to use real names for anybody but myself on this blog. In most cases that is to protect the privacy of any and all involved. I'm going to make an exception. We named this beautiful child Amanda. I chose it. As I have disclosed in the past, my love for the 80s borders on the maniacal. While it is not technically an 80s song (having been released in the late 70s as I recall), "Amanda" by Boston is the culprit that Amanda can blame if she ends up not liking her name. After all, the birth mom's sister-in-law complained that she had named this child using "a white girl's name".

Sigh. Everybody's a critic. Why do people concern themselves with what other people name their children? You would think people could content themselves with learning a person's name, using it when they address them, and then shutting the hell up about it already, unless it's a good friend and you need to tease them.

Anyway, she can be Amanda, Mandy, AJ (middle initial is J), Amy or whatever...we'll decide that as we see what type of person she turns into. But she'll always remind me of the Boston song:

Babe, tomorrows so far away
Theres something I just have to say
I dont think I can hide what Im feelin inside
Another day, knowin I love you
And i, Im getting too close again
I dont want to see it end
If I tell you tonight will you turn out the light
And walk away knowin I love you?

Im gonna take you by surprise and make you realize,
Amanda
Im gonna tell you right away, I cant wait another day,
Amanda
Im gonna say it like a man and make you understand
Amanda
I love you

And I feel like todays the day
Im lookin for the words to say
Do you wanna be free, are you ready for me
To feel this way
I dont wanna lose you
So, it may be too soon, I know
The feeling takes so long to grow
If I tell you today will you turn me away
And let me go?
I dont wanna lose you

Im gonna take you by surprise and make you realize,
Amanda
Im gonna te ll you right away, I cant wait another day,
Amanda
Im gonna say it lik e a man and make you understand
Amanda

You and i
I know that we cant wait
And I swear, I swear its not a lie girl
Tomorrow may be too late
You, you and I girl
We can share a life together
Its now or never
And tomorow may be too late

And, feelin the way I do
I dont wanna wait my whole life through
To say Im in love with you

Yeah. As I drove home, that song ran through my mind over and over as The Wife and I chatted about her, and about what might happen next, and how long we'll have to keep up the pretense, and so forth. In 20 years of friendship and 4.5 years of marriage, we've gotten to know each other very well, and drives together are very companionable whether we're chatting or just sitting with our own thoughts. The lights of our hometown eventually came up and then passed to the rearview mirror.

As we approached our road, The Wife spoke up: "turn up the radio." I did.

I drove in the driveway, into the garage, switched off the engine, and sat with The Wife and stared at our baby as we listened to Boston perform "Amanda" on the radio.

I'm going now to kiss my daughter goodnight.

Examining a Way to Skin a Cat

2008-09-14T08:51:00.000-07:00

Okay, we've come a lot, and we feel we've got a handle on the kinds of things that might work and the ones that probably won't. I personally like the one of adopting the birth mom in order to make her "family" so we can adopt her child...but apparently the Indians also get to decide after the fact that family who are legal but don't have Indian blood aren't "real" family. Sigh. It's difficult fighting an opponent that is omnipotent and has unlimited funds that ultimately come from your own pocket.

One interesting item about the tribe...as things have proceeded, it has come into focus that there appears to be one lady at the tribe that is the problem. We have doubts whether the objection would have been raised at all in the first place except for her. Unfortunately for us, she's the one in charge of ICWA issues.

So our newest hobby horse is one I want some input on from anybody here who has experience. Heck, anybody who has an OPINION.

How would an "informal" adoption work? I've known of similar arrangements families have made, where without a strictly legal arrangement, people for their own reasons would simply raise a child that wasn't their own.

We would get our baby back. It also wouldn't necessarily be like that forever. Birth mom is still determined that we are her parents, and we concur. It would simply be a matter of waiting until such time as that woman is out of that position, and then re-trying. Or maybe filling out the paperwork again in 5 years or something WITHOUT checking the Native American box. The main thing is that it would bring us together with her so we stop missing her babyhood.

The main negatives I see are financial, like not being able to claim her on taxes, or legal, like the chance that somehow to government decides to take her away. If we're not her parents, we have no standing to object. I also wonder about things like health insurance and stuff.

So anybody with any knowledge or experience of such a situation is cordially invited to read the last few posts to get a handle on our situation, and then feel free to comment, stating why or why not such an arrangement would be a good idea.

Let Me Count the Ways...

2008-09-08T10:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, so you've been briefed on the broad outlines of how the Indian Tribe is tangling our hopes for adoption. But as I've mentioned in passing over the months and as Yoda said to Obi Wan Kenobi's ghost as Luke took off to save his friends: "There is another."

I speak of the advanced pregnancy of "Melanie". I have promised a post on the events of last week regarding "Melanie" and I will deliver, but not here. Here I simply want to discuss the events of this morning.

I was vaguely aware that The Wife was talking to somebody on the phone. No idea to whom or about what, and didn't much care. I was drifting in the twilight zone and was feeling pretty comfortable. I had planned to take today and tomorrow off anyway as far as my boss is concerned, so tomorrow is soon enough to get back to work. Suddenly, I hear words that I had to replay in my mind several times and still couldn't make sense of them coming out of The Wife's mouth: "nigger name". Wha? Huh? Um...am I still dreaming?

I woke up fast then and got the scoop. "Melanie" has decided on a name for her impending daughter. The baby's father's mother was apparently trying to talk "Melanie" out of giving her granddaughter a "nigger name". Now, first of all, I know what this name is and it's a beautiful name. Second, I had NO IDEA that the father's family was like that. Oh, I knew they weren't well off, and collected a lot of government benefits for healthy people, and kept their yard looking like a junk yard. But this is the final step toward my actually believing that these people are honestly full-blooded members of that mythical tribe known as "white trash".

Oh, dear. Dear, dear, dear. No child can be allowed to be raised under the careful tutelage of a woman like that while we are able to influence anything at all. No way, nohow. Uh uh. Not happening until we've done our best to prevent it. And she WOULD be the one to raise the child...the father is pretty shiftless, refuses to hold a job and is pretty much an example of why some women shouldn't be allowed to choose the men they sleep with.

And if his mother was the same type and didn't want anything to do with a grandchild like most women in her position, there probably wouldn't be a problem. I have it on good authority (but not outright said to me) that "Melanie" would love to have us adopt her daughter. But she thinks (and she may be right) that if she doesn't parent the child, then the father's family would get next dibs, and she also knows that that woman would seize the opportunity.

So now we've collected two situations, each entirely different from the other, in which we want desperately to adopt a child, the babies' mothers both want us to adopt their children from birth, and outside influences are seemingly dead set against us adopting either child. As an aside, if we were to adopt BOTH children through a miracle of God, they would also have identical initials. And both mothers appear to me to be roughly the same personality type (though our black/indian birthmom seems to have more fight in her where her children are concerned).

I wonder...how many more adoption situations can we get ourselves into where we want it and the birthmom wants it, but other people decide it won't happen? It could become like a hobby or something. Counting the ways where people intervene in a good thing just because they can.

Do I sound bitter? I am, a little. "Nigger name"? Call me innocent, but I sort of thought that was the kind of thing that was last said out loud in the 60s, outside of those white power groups you see on TV trying to parade through Jewish neighborhoods with swastikas. I'm going to have to get out my copy of "American History X" and watch it with new eyes. This stuff really DOES happen.

In what bizarre world would the law put a child in a home like that before it would put the child in our home? And yet after our experiences fostering and trying to adopt, I know that "Melanie" is most likely right. That would be how it would be likely to play out.

Sigh.

Exhaustion

2008-09-05T17:44:00.000-07:00

We just got home a couple of hours ago after a week in which we have been absolutely mauled. Let me recap.

We were yanked out of bed at 2am Tuesday morning. We drove to the hospital, got ourselves situated and waited. All was good. Nervous phone calls to Mom, asking nurses dumb first-time-parent questions, and so forth. All wonderful. Baby arrives not long after noon. Birth mama is okay and recovering. Cooing. Oohing and ah-ing. Pictures.

Letter from tribe. This WON'T be our child. Knife to the heart. Anguish. More, less fun calls to Mom and others. Anger. RAGE. Parents arrive. Crying. Rending of garments. Pain.

Phone calls. LOTS. Lawyers. Blah blah blah ICWA STOP RIGHT THERE...we can't help you. Click. Can't help you. Click. Can't help you. Click. Lawyers. Social workers. Pro bono foundations. Gather to plan new strategy. More calls. More clicks. A few interested parties. Too late. Drive home while The Wife stays with birth mama and baby.

"Melanie" is 8 months pregnant (again...another post later on that). She just moved into a new apartment. Stop in to update her and make sure everything's good (she has no transportation). Everything's NOT good. No Melanie in apartment...but her existing child is sleeping. Alone. In the middle of her bed. With no guardrails or pillows. Aargh. Foster parents are mandated reporters.

Trap "Melanie" in her lies when she gets home. Left baby alone for an hour or more. Sigh. Can't deal with it tonight...call child protection tomorrow.

Finally go home. Drop into bed. Not much sleep.

Up again early Wednesday. Drive back 1.5 hours to hospital. More calls. More hangups. A few more interested parties. No eating. I stay with mama and baby, The Wife drives home to see to dogs, etc. A little more sleep that night. LOTS of cuddling with baby...we may not have forever to do that after all. It's starting to sink in.

Up early Thursday. More calls. More hangups. Both stay with baby and mama. Friend sees to dogs while we're gone. Staff WONDERFUL about being sensitive to our problems, our unkempt hair, our everything. Can't say enough about the staff. Watch kickoff of NFL season. Not as much joy in that for me this year, for some strange reason. Still, it was a bit of comfort. Probably the high point of the week unless you count the immediately-ended experience of being a father.

Up early Friday. Baby leaves today. We arranged for her to be at a non-Indian foster home for a week with her brother while mama recoups and tries to get pro bono help. She makes the final determination that the child will NOT go to the reservation, whatever happens. She will parent before that, and continue to look for ways for us to get the baby.

We are ordered off the floor shortly after lunch so they can take the baby away. I kiss my daughter goodbye and leave with The Wife. Humiliation. Despair. Rage. But submission to the process.

We are now in the 2% of clients of our adoption search agency who have ever run out their entire contract without a successful match. 2 unsuccessful matches. Humiliation. Despair. Rage.

ICWA is a horrible law meant to address a valid wrong, which is being wielded by people who care far more about how many federal dollars they can scam off of having babies in their care than they do about the babies themselves. Research has revealed to me that the tribal system is generally a grotesquely racist miscarriage of justice waiting to happen. Love? What's that? Family? Not as important as Native American Blood. Other cultures? So what? If a child has a single drop of NA blood, none of the rest of the blood matters. Mother's wishes? Mothers don't have wishes. They bear their babies for the good (and the coffers) of the tribe.

Baby is mostly black, and therefore will be subjected to horrendous racism from the Indians (many of whom hate blacks maybe even more than whites)? Tough. After all, she can console herself with the fact that she has the honor of having as much as 1/8 Indian blood.

Above all, screw whitey as hard and as often as the chance presents itself. So what if they don't have any ancestors that ever hurt NAs or took their land or stole ANYTHING from them. Their skin is white, they're guilty, so SCREW THEM. THAT is the strong vibe I get from the Indian side (when our people have been able to get them to bother to answer the phone).

Do I sound bitter? I won't claim innocence. Do I sound unreasonable? As I said, I'm very tired and not sure why I'm even blogging right now except to let off steam. Do I sound racist? Probably, though I don't think I am. Yet. But now I may understand a little more what black people sometimes talk about.

Maybe giving us a little more understanding of and sensitivity to such things is the main reason God is subjecting us to this horrible ordeal. If so, it's a hard, hard lesson.

But we will stand by birth mom for as long as she needs us. You may have noticed that we have a huge weakness for folks who don't have much of a chance, and she certainly qualifies right now. The woman has problems. But it's more than that. Because the early positive signs we got from the tribe encouraged us to get to know and love her. And once we love somebody, we don't let them down just because the going gets tough.

We've carefully considered it, and there's just no way we can afford the $30,000+ we've been quoted to fight this thing directly in court. So we'll just muddle on without our child, but visiting her every chance we get. And trying to make sure that this woman, our child and her other child have the material things they need and that she has a shot to make things better for her family.

A baby will come, one way or another. Maybe something can be worked out with "Melanie's" imminent baby (as I said, a post on that later). We're going to continue through our agency on a month-to-month basis for a few months, so maybe we'll find something there yet, as they claim to now have put us at the top of their "match-anybody" list. Maybe a situation we don't even know about yet is just now easing into place for us. We just don't know.

But we know that we need a baby. We know we're good parents who can give a good life to a child. And we'll NEVER give up.

And we may live to regret it. What if the tribe suddenly reverses course, at the same time our agency matches us with twins and "Melanie" decides she can't handle parenting and wants us to adopt her older AND new babies? Eek. Diaper city.

Oh, but that would be heaven.

G'night.

EMERGENCY...HELP!!!

2008-09-03T06:41:00.000-07:00

I don't have much time, so I'm going to be typing at light speed here. Please excuse typos.

The main reason I haven't been blogging this summer is because we were matched with a birth mom in March, and she was scheduled for a C-section birth this Friday (Sept 5). As things progressed, we focused more and more on that and less on fostering. We've only been doing respite for several months now.

The birth mother is 3/4 African American and 1/4 Indian. At birth, her mother registered her with an Indian tribe in of Wisconsin. She notified them of her adoption plans when she originally was matched with us. She double-checked with them 3 weeks or a month ago. All seemed well, though it wasn't official. We've been covering her rent for two months now, with plans to cover a month or two more until she gets back on her feet. We've

We proceeded to arrange for our new arrival. We have her nursery complete, about a year's worth of clothes, even donor breast milk has already been sent and is now ready because we read that that is better for a newborn.

She called us yesterday morning at about 2:00 AM saying that her baby wasn't moving. She has been having trouble with a low level of amniotic fluid for about a week and the doc told her to call the nurse line if the baby stopped moving.

Long story short (a lot has been happening) we drove 1.5 hours to the hospital after helping her arrange for a cab (she's single and poor and has NO resources and another baby to make arrangements for). We were the first to meet the new baby outside of the doc and nurses. We loved her instantly and had about 0.5 hours of parental bliss.

Enter the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA). Google it. It's a BAD law intended for a pretty good purpose. Apparently it usurps all parental rights from Indian women when their wishes for their children go against what the tribe decides.

The social worker handling our case showed up at the hospital with a somber look to her. She informed us that after giving their verbal okay to the proceedings the entire length of the process and even SUGGESTING that we specifically could "foster" the child until legal stuff was out of the way, she had a letter from them informing us of her choices.

She could parent the child herself. Or the tribe would show up at the hospital and take the child to be parented by an Indian family on-reservation. No other options were to be considered.

Some possibly pertinent facts:

1) The birth mom has stated that she feels raped. She wants to fight this with everything she's got.

2) What she's got isn't much. She is a poor minority woman who has never received any kind of support or benefits from the tribe or anybody else except the government (food stamps, etc).

3) She is resolved that The Wife and I will be the parents of this child.

4) We've spent a LOT of money on this process and we're just about tapped out, especially since we were counting on the tax benefits next winter/spring from the adoption to help cover some expenses. We can afford some, especially if the adoption ends up being successful. But we're pretty tapped out and could use any advice we can get about how to proceed.

5) Our social worker has had a lot of difficulty over the months even getting ANY kind of answer from the Tribe, often getting no answer at their office or getting pushed off by people who claim no responsibility. What responses she DID get were positive until the day of the birth.

6) We're VERY attached to this woman and her existing child, and have developed a very loving relationship with both of them. We're SICK about this. Physically.

7) The child is pretty small, but has passed all her physical tests and is nearly ready to go home.

We're currently exploring the options. One is to possibly adopt the mother, and then we'll be family so we could adopt her child. Sneaky, huh? I thought of that one, though to be fair one lawyer type our friend spoke to called back this morning with the same idea. We're looking into it.

The hospital staff has encouraged us to take the child home, before they receive orders to the contrary. They've witnessed this whole soap opera firsthand and seem very much in our corner to the extent that they're allowed to be. Last I knew (and the situation is VERY fluid) they felt that as long as the mother directed the baby to go with us we have the right to take her home. We have the same armband as the baby and mother and are inside the security loop. They know us and they know the situation. I don't know if that's ethical, but it may be an avenue we take on the theory that once the baby is in our house we can raise the drawbridge and refuse to let it down for anybody without both a badge and a court order. That may be more effort than the tribe is willing to expend on a case that seemingly is no skin off their nose, and they'll drop it. Hey, a guy can hope.

Anyway, if you know anybody that is a lawyer with experience and/or knowledge of Indian law and is willing to work pro bono on behalf of a poor minority woman who is desperate, PLEASE let me know by email. I will check it as often as I can. I'm on my way out the door to drive to the hospital again, but I'm bringing a laptop and I pray they have WiFi.

It would also help a lot if any media types read this, or if any readers could point media types to us or vice-versa. I'll talk to the Star/Tribune (I plan to try to get a reporter on the horn sometime today). I'll talk to any TV reporter that will listen. I'll talk to the National Enquirer, if that will help. A report on the television news or any major newspaper in Minnesota or Wisconsin would be really helpful in shining a spotlight on these particular cockroaches, I suspect.

We're activating our entire social network for this. Pulling out all stops. If anybody, anywhere can give us ideas, or help us in any material way, it will be welcome and remembered.

This child is OUR daughter. We saw her first. We probably only have a few days to act before it will be out of our hands. Helpful comments not only welcome, but begged for.

Random Quote

2008-06-17T09:56:00.000-07:00

"On this earth, if the lion lies down with the lamb, the lamb must be replaced frequently."

Martin Luther

Heh. Sorry for the lack of writing but, well, I haven't felt like it. Neener. I'll try to write more soon, but for now, know that the adoption is still on and may come as soon as late August. We no longer have any full-time kids, but two part-time ongoing respite deals, neither of which has been too much trouble.

Later.

Frogs and Crickets and Other Stuff

2008-05-16T22:09:00.000-07:00

I have written before about the frogs and crickets. They live in the swamp behind my house, and they make music that is ever so fine. I have a coworker who is by fits and starts an orchestra conductor. He actually left today for a few weeks to do a gig in Pittsburgh or somewhere. He has NOTHING on me.

You see, I now know the drill with these amphibians and insects. You need to walk out there right about 1 hour after the sun goes down and pretend to be warming up. Then you can go back inside for an hour, but then you have to go back out and actually *conduct* them (if you want to be convincing, anyway). And then stay, pretending to conduct them, until dawn when they finally shut up. No thanks.

These critters are God's fault. Talk to Him about it if you have a complaint.

In other news, "Tammy" is now back at home. Again. And since she's only a Junior, she'll be back to our house again in a few months. We're familiar with the drill. What terrifies me is what happens to her next year, when the county can't just barge in like they have been doing? What then? She's a great person, but then they'll have used up their effectiveness.

Ah, well, I guess we'll worry about that when the time comes.

This weekend, Auntie J and Uncle R have agreed to bless us with their comany for the weekend. I have agreed to provide a way for them to fish. Therefore, I must get up in the morning and go get a battery for the canoe (marine battery to run the trolling motor). Also, whle I'm at it, I'll get a battery for the lawnmower, since that needs doing, and also a battery for the motorcycle. It never ends.

Sigh.

Status

2008-05-09T18:08:00.000-07:00

This weekend, in addition to having "Tammy" (who leaves in another couple of weeks), we are doing respite care for 3 girls that are staying at another nearby foster home. Apparently they've caved and decided to actually take some time for themselves. Wimps.

On another note, does anybody know how I can join this group?

Juxtaposition

2008-05-06T21:15:00.000-07:00

I don't know if this has any relevance to anything or not...

Tonight I was sitting watching TV and vegging out. Being something of a political junkie, I was checking out the VA & IN primary election returns on CNN, while flipping back and forth on other channels when it got boring.

Somewhere along the line I found ECW Raw. Yes, I'm a closet wrestling fan, though I haven't watched as much the last...uh...decade or so. Anyway, I saw Kane was wrestling, and he's just a beast that's worth watching for the sheer value of knowing that *I* don't look like that.

When the match was over, some shrill woman/manager came on and started berating the guy that beat up her guy, or something. Ick. I flipped back to CNN. For a second I wondered if my remote or TV wasn't working as well, because the sound didn't sound like it had changed at all, yet here we had a picture of Hillary chewing us all out over something or other. Amazing.

I sat through the rest of her spiel, and then they skipped to a speech Obama had made or was making. The boy knows how to work himself into a lather, and tonight was no exception. I generally enjoy that, but tonight it was tiring, so I hit recall.

Now the picture was fine, except that Obama suddenly had on a pair of wrestling tights and was getting the tar whaled out of him by some righteously huge dude...but the sound was somebody who I at first thought was the old Jimmy "Mouth of the South" Hart, but turned out to be some other guy complaining about how his favorite guy was losing.

In the final analysis, in form and in function, politics is more like professional wrestling than most of the politicians would like us to believe.

No fostering news to report, except that "Tammy" is now back with us again, and back going home every other day again just like before. This county HATES to spend money, and REALLY knows how to waste it once they do decide to fork it over. But hey...she's easy to have around and the checks keep coming whether she stays overnight here or at home, so I try to not mind much.

Random Quote, Just Because

2008-04-23T12:37:00.001-07:00

Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.

— Groucho Marx

Job

2008-04-21T22:33:00.000-07:00

Allow me to quote the Bible, Job 1, 13-22:

¹³Now on the day when his sons and his daughters were eating and drinking wine in their oldest brother's house,
¹⁴a messenger came to Job and said, "The oxen were plowing and the donkeys feeding beside them,
¹⁵and the ^(W)Sabeans attacked and took them. They also slew the servants with the edge of the sword, and I alone have escaped to tell you."
¹⁶While he was still speaking, another also came and said, "^(X)The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants and consumed them, and I alone have escaped to tell you."
¹⁷While he was still speaking, another also came and said, "The ^(Y)Chaldeans formed three bands and made a raid on the camels and took them and slew the servants with the edge of the sword, and I alone have escaped to tell you."
¹⁸While he was still speaking, another also came and said, "Your sons and your daughters were eating and drinking wine in their oldest brother's house,
¹⁹and behold, a great wind came from across the wilderness and struck the four corners of the house, and it fell on the young people and they died, and I alone have escaped to tell you."
²⁰Then Job arose and ^(Z)tore his robe and shaved his head, and he fell to the ground and worshiped.
²¹He said,
"^(AA)Naked I came from my mother's womb,
And naked I shall return there
The ^(AB)LORD gave and the LORD has taken away.
Blessed be the name of the LORD."
²²^(AC)Through all this Job did not sin nor did he blame God.

Hm. In the space of what, 5 minutes, the dude lost all his stuff and all his family. He then proceeds to shave his head.

Talk about your bad hair days.

Stupid People and Other Things

2008-04-18T20:46:00.000-07:00

Minnesota has one of the finest educational systems in the country. No lie...I've seen the statistics, and in most categories we're up near the top. I'm not sure of the reasons, but I suppose it has to do with the Northern European/Scandinavian work ethic, our social culture, the fact that there's nothing better to do here in the winter than go to school, or whatever.

But mark my words, there are some very, very stupid people here.

I say this because I've been witnessing them all week long. You see, here it is a state pastime in the winter (along with going to school) to go ice fishing. This is the "sport" where you walk or drive out onto a lake, drill a hole, stab a minnow with a hook, drop it down the hole and then sit and look at each other. Many drink beer during this activity. Lying about your catch is optional.

Thing is, fish houses come off the lake by law at the end of February. I'm pretty sure people don't stop driving out on the lake until a few fall through. I saw a pickup out on the ice as late as Monday...it may have even been Tuesday. Maybe he didn't get the memo that the ice will probably be going out on the lakes IN A FEW DAYS.

Today, driving home from work, I saw a guy sitting out on the ice. I have no idea how he got out there, because there was about a 10-yard or so gap of open water along the shore everywhere around that area of the lake that I could see, but there he sat.

A few hundred yards further on, there were a few people by a very open section of the lake casting out to the ice. Clearly they had stolen the other guy's brain.

Such is life in Minnesota in April.

I haven't been in the mood to write much lately, and tonight isn't really an exception. I did want to let anybody know who's interested that we have now "officially" been matched with a birth mom, who is due in September. She can change her mind at any time up until a few days after the birth, so I'm trying not to get TOO excited, but hey, what can we do except bite our nails all summer?

We met her, and she's very nice (I think I mentioned her in a previous post, come to think of it, but I'm too lazy to read back and make sure). I haven't seen or talked to her since, but The Wife seems to be building a pretty strong friendship, talking on the phone for an hour or so every couple of days. Anyway...it seems we're on our way, barring her deciding she can't go through with it. Pray for us.

The last item..."Melanie" is due with her second baby in October, she has her little one who is like half a year old, and her father threw her out of the house this week. Nice. She has no job, no skills, and nowhere to go except a few friends. We invited her to come live with us for awhile and she accepted...she was planning to move in this weekend. But now we haven't heard from her since early this week. No idea if she'll go through with it...we require certain behaviors (like making sure we know where she is, no men overnight, no friends in and out after a certain time) that she seems hooked on.

Stay tuned. Maybe I'll even start to write more. Stranger things have happened.

Oh, And By the Way...

2008-03-21T21:27:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow we meet a potential birthmom. It's her second child, she's due in September, and the child will be part black, part white and part native American. We're going to buy the lady and her 1-year-old dinner.

Amazingly, we live about 1.5 hours apart, though the agency through which we met is in Illinois. Go figure.

I may give some first impressions tomorrow night.

"Celeste" Continues Her Downward Spiral

2008-03-21T20:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, we're not fostering for the time being, but we ARE keeping tabs on some of our former tormentors.

First and foremost is "Celeste". The Wife is still working "temporarily" at the day treatment school. I put that in quotes because it seems fairly obvious to us that she'll go on full-time at the beginning of next year. But as it is, she sees "Celeste" on a day-to-day basis. She also sees "Celeste's" new foster mom, who is a teacher at the school.

She ran. Again. And I'm not really in the loop so I don't know the exact details, but my impression is that this time she broke her record for amount of time after running before the cops found her. Heh.

I also got a crypic comment on my MySpace page (gotta delete that thing one of these days) from her. It didn't say anything. Just a comment from her. I suspect she did that very purposefully to make me think of her. I'm guessing she doesn't think I think about her...but I do. All the time. If I thought it would help her, I'd invite her back here. But that's CLEARLY not what she needs.

Anyway, the other foster kid we've heard from lately is "Josie". She is apparently at the foster home that she went to after us (in a different town). As I understand it, she asked to come to our place and was rejected. By The Wife or by the court, or by the court at The Wife's request, I'm not entirely sure. But believe this: I still love that girl, and it means a lot to me that she asked to come live with us again.

Aside from all that....I'm tanning up for the spring. I've had three tanning sessions and I'm starting to see it on my stomach. Hard to believe that it'll be 80 within a month-to-6-weeks when we just got a snowstorm last night and today, but I'd bet money on it. I've lived here 40 years. I've seen snow on May 5 and 80 degrees on May 10. Bank it.

I'm also salivating over my new canoe. I've never been one to go out and start fishing at midnight on the opener, but I might just do that this year. I LOVE THAT LITTLE BOAT.

And that's all I've got time for. Time to go play Civilization 2.

I love my life.

Adoption Follies

2008-03-19T21:37:00.000-07:00

I guess I owe you guys an update.

I've not been updating the blog on purpose. I've needed to reassess my directions and meditate on my motivations and all that other new-age stuff.

See, I'm sure a lot of you who have been reading for awhile know that I'm a recovering alcoholic. Well, now I'm recovering from a much more RECENT alcoholism. Yes, I fell off the wagon.

In December. According to my memory of the last few months, I've probably drunk alcoholic beverages every 2 weeks or so since that first fateful sip after 8.5 years of sobriety.

I have a wonderful wife. Because of that, my folks know each and every time I take a drink. Also because of that, I have for the first time entered into some meaninful counseling...with an actual shrink. And contrary to my expectations, it has actually been useful so far. I recommend it...but only to someone who is willing to be open about whatever they're there to talk to the shrink about, and only if they're willing to face their own worst fears/expectations/whatever. Because this particular shrink is following the classic formula I learned in Psych 101, and he's basically mirroring back at me the stuff I give him about myself. I've been in counseling before for my first marriage (my earlier alcohol counselling is a whole different thing), but this is the first shrink I've been willing to pay the fee for for my second visit. The guy is pretty good.

Anyway, I've been able to confide in this guy ALL the broader influences on my life in our second meeting. He has me writing a "journal", which I'm required to bring to him every session. It seems that journal is the basis for our session. I wonder what this guy is going to do when I bring him the journal next time, and there's nothing radically new? Remember that I'm a blogger, and as such am used to psychological nudity. I show you guys most of the deepest stuff I'm thinking. So what will he add, now that I've shown him ALL the stuff, even the deeper stuff that I haven't shown you guys?

Anyway, just so you all might be assured, I've been tackling the alcohol problem head-on, with a wonderful partner. The Wife. I don't know if this is a thing that all women have, but The Wife can tell with one glimpse at my eyes whether I've been drinking. No, this gift is NOT perfect...she's falsely accused me in the recent past. But then, she had good reason. Because I WAS drinking, just not when she caught me.

Anyway, I've enlisted my clergy in my effort to "cleanse" myself. Tonight I had a GREAT talk with our assistant pastor...a talk we scheduled when he was good enough to show up at our door at about 2-hours notics after The Wife figured out that I was messed up YET AGAIN. Anyway, we had a pretty good theological discussion.

See, I'm one of those EVIL "evangelicals" that you hear about so much on the news. The ones that supposedly slavishly follow Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell. Problem is, I found both of those men to be ridiculous, at least as far as their theological outlook is (was) concerned.

Yes, I believe in Jesus. I believe he is our savior, I believe that the Bible is the Truth, and I also believe that God created Heaven and Earth. What I don't believe is that there is necessarily any conflict between the Theory of Evolution and Creationism.

See, I believe that God did His work THROUGH evolution. Hey...God also gave us scientists...and I'm of a scientific mindset. God gave us clues to what happened in the past. He meant for us to find them, and He meant for us to figure it all out. He most certainly did NOT mean for us to kill each other over whose interpretation of observable fact is correct. Apparently, to judge by recent headlines, he left that to Muslims.

Anyway, my Pastor did not seem overly surprised to hear my dirty little secret about my beliefs...but he did feel sufficiently moved by my revelation to offer to lend me a book by a creationist that (by his testimony) "proves" the creationist viewpoint.

Now, I'm open to suggestion. I think that's important...a person SHOULD be open to other points of view. But his book better have better stuff in it than the other 5 or 6 books I've read on the subject. Because otherwise, I'm going to just go on believing what I believe...that God USED evolution to EFFECT his Creation.

See, my belief is that science and religion don't even really intersect. Science addresses some questions...the what, the how, and in some cases the when and the who. Religion addresses the WHY...along with the sometimes-correllating when and who. But the big thing is the WHY. And in my Pastor's case, he was hung up on what I think of as the extremist-wing of the "evolutionists". They often make the statement that this all happened by accident.

That is a statement of faith I'm not willing to make. I believe God is in charge in this world...but I also believe that God tends in almost all cases to work through natural means, at least these days, and probably in most days. Therefore, who's to say that God didn't CRAFT man out of apes? I LIKE the idea. Apes are cool. If I could PICK an animal to be modeled on, I'd probably pick an ape, and probably the chimp or a near relative.

Anyway. On to other things...

We've been working hard on the adoption thing. And I mean HARD. And we've had many disappointments, as well. I don't know if it's just us or if this is normal (comments are welcome from the knowledgeable) but we've had a half-dozen or so "situations" flame out on us. Birth moms "change their minds", or hospitals taking care of the baby change their minds for them, or other adoptive parents swoop in and take what was ours, etc.

So last Friday The Wife talked to a birth mom on the phone for over an hour. They hit it off. The mom has a 13-month-old, she's single, and she doesn't seem to think she can care for another. Fair enough. I was sitting next to The Wife as they talked, and while I didn't participate in the conversation, I definitely got the feeling that it was working well. Well, we've had that before too. See, I've gotten pretty sour on things since I last wrote.

And yet...now we have a meeting set up with this same birth mom for next Saturday. Hmmmm. Maybe this one is, at last, for real.

And just to add a little spice, I got a call from a totally different agency we're working with (Thanks again, Mary), and they had a pair of TWINS for us to adopt. They're black, one boy and one girl, and they're 18 months old. The only problem is that they NEED TO BE ADOPTED THIS WEEKEND. Hoooooooold on there, buddy. Why all of a sudden this weekend? We've got to rearrange our lives around if we're going to bring in 2 18-month-olds.

Oh, it HAD to be this weekend. Why? Well, their mom decided she can't parent them, and her family (where they apparenly are placed now) has decided they can't parent them either. Are they both healthy? No behavioral issues? No, we're assured. They're both healthy, they just need a home. Riiiiiight.

Note to adoptive parents...beware of the things they're reluctant to tell you. Somehow we learned this without actually adopting, but I'm offering that bit of wisdom here for free.

After consulting with my folks, who confirmed my misgivings but offered their financial support should we choose the other path anyway, we have, at least temporarily, declined. Part of this is that we want desperately to have the infant we're currently working toward, but also because this whole thing just feels WRONG. Why so soon? Why the pressure treatment? If they were just HONEST and gave us the unvarnished truth, we might well consider adopting them. But not when we feel like we're being hustled.

They could start by explaining why they're offering us two Afro-American kids for the price they earlier quoted us for ONE. Is it just because of the twin thing, or is there something else? Because I made a special point of asking them earlier if we ever were to find a twin situation if we'd get a 2-4-1 special (only half joking at the time) and they told us there would be certain savings, but it wouldn't be 2-4-1. Now suddenly it IS. why?

Anyway, enough of that. Suffice it to say, we're desperately looking for an adoption situation, we'd be good parents, and anybody who knows of a preganant woman thinking of adoption should contact us at their earliest possible convenience. Because while we have a pretty good line on our first child, we'd like to end up with 2-3 children. I'll let me earlier writings in this space speak for how much that child would be loved and how much of our lives we'd pour into that child's upbringing.

Winds of Change

2008-02-22T19:45:00.000-08:00

I may have to rethink the name of this blog.

You see, there has been a LOT going on in our lives over the last 6 months or so that never made it to the blog. I take responsibility for that. I've felt more like living my life than writing about it in that time. Sue me.

Anyway, the blissful sheen of foster care has worn off. Okay, it was never there, but it's even less there lately. "Celeste" is a real piece of work. She's a walking, talking potential-foster-parent-repellent...with a few bright spots, as I've been careful to note.

Still...I'm now 40. The Wife will be 40 this summer. Time to think about our own family, if we're to have one. And it seems that maybe we ARE to have one, after all.

There are two serious irons in the adoption fire right now.

One I've already partially described...we're currently in the process of trying to figure out what we need to do about him. We went down and met him yesterday, and he's SO PRECIOUS!!!! Oh, and he was NOT born without any ventricles in his heart. That'll teach me to take what I hear from a non-doctor as even somewhat true.

The real story is that he was born either without a wall between his ventricles, or with a very large hole in that wall. The doc tells us he was born without a wall between the ventricles...basically one big ventricle sending blood through the pulmonary artery to his lungs AND sending blood out the aorta to his body. This leads, obviously, to decreased oxygen content of his blood in general. Not good, but not catestrophic. I was watching his blood oxygen level obsessively the whole time we were in his hopital room. The highest I saw was about 90% (of normal), and the lowest was something like 65%, even when he was fussing. From my CF experience, I can say that 65% is not even close to being dangerous, unless maybe over the long term. I'm not entirely sure about that. However, the doc says that 2 more operations should make this little guy able to live a normal life. I'm ready to bank on the American medical system at this point.

You remember the American medical system, right? The one I've championed just recently in this blog? This mom has NO resources. Her child was born with severe medical problems, and she is a drug addict. This child has not only received the best medical care available in the WORLD, but he's obviously a favorite of the nurses and volunteers. He's getting LOVE. That's good stuff, even if it's not his forever family giving it to him at this moment.

But we haven't been sitting still. I've set up a meeting with an attorney (on the advice of the SW most closely working with this new baby's case) for next Tuesday. Her assistant laid it out grand that her fees were $175/hr. I laugh at her misfortune. My divorce attorney in the cities cost me about $400/hr, and $75 to "review" an email of 2 lines. Anyway, we're going to go ahead and draw something up, hopefully, to the effect that this will be a "trial" placement for adoption, and after 30 days (or whatever seems reasonable to the attorney) it becomes permanent. I don't know if such an agreement seems normal, and any attorneys or other knowledgeable people out there please advise, but we need some way of time-limiting this thing.

Anyway.....on to the next exciting possibility. A coworker overheard me negotiating time off to go see the first birthmom described above, and he asked me how serious we were. Hello! So he knows this woman who is 6 months pregnant and has been desperate to find a good situation for her child, since her boyfriend doesn't sound like the type to welcome a child at this time. Sorry, but i have to be diplomatic, here.

So we are to go to his house tomorrow and meet this woman. She's already viewed our parentprofiles.com profile as well as a PDF copy of the newly-created profile we'll be sending out if none of this works out to our satisfaction. My coworker says she's all fired up and even relieved already that she's found an option that might work.

It sounds like it's ours to lose...which always sets off alarm bells in my head. Still...we are what we said we were. We have not told a single lie through this whole process. I am a product of my parents. I want desperately to bring my child(ren) up in the very same principles and environment that my parents brought me up in. I've been DESPERATELY glad of my parents' support and my upbringing since I've been old enough to care.

So why am I so nervous? Because of the counties. One county wants this, another wants that. One wants you to be a foster parent in order to care for a medical child, another wants you to be certified as a "medical foster home" before they'll let you TOUCH their children, whether they're medical or not. Sigh.

And now for that "sheen of foster care wearing off" comment. We are quitting foster care. And that's why I need to consider changing the name of the blog. Because...if we're going to adopt, of course I'm going to have lots to say, and I definitely don't want to stop blogging. But it won't be about "other people's kids", now, will it? So...somebody recommend something in the comments that would work in our position.

And I'll let you know what happens in this space WELL before you need to worry about changing links or anything.

New Hope

2008-02-19T17:29:00.000-08:00

I have new hope on two fronts just lately...

The first point of hope regards what I've been told in the past regarding my feet. Specifically, I was told by the University of Minnesota sports medicine clinic that I have arthritis in my feet, and that this would bury my running habit. I had no reason to disbelieve this, so I gave up my habit without even a whimper. Well, okay, a few whimpers. But I was pretty proud of how I calmly gave up the main driver of my good health.

Thing is, I finally HAD to get a second opinion. Running was the thing that had helped me get off the bottle. I've recently (again) had a few problems with that. It also was the thing that held my CF lung problems at bay (or so I believe). It was also a sacred time, the time when I had only myself and my breathing rate and heartbeat to think about. A time when I could listen to my favorite music without any jeers that I love 80s rock (and even 80s pop, including Michael Jackson and Tiffany). In short, running was a part of my life that I wasn't able to give up easily.

They took more X-rays, and on my new doctor's interpretation, there is hardly *any* arthritis in my feet...much different from what I was told before. I'm of a mind to get copies of the X-rays they took at the U and have my new doc look at them...but it's working. You see, I went out to run Saturday night, since it was a mild night. And it was GREAT. My wind is completely gone after several years of no running, of course, but that feeling of having ran was the same. I probably can't run consecutive days, but my feet weren't feeling too bad after a day. I can RUN. Expect more on this subject in the future.

The second front on which there is new hope is the adoption thing. We found out today that a birth mom saw us on adoptionprofiles.com. A birthmom in Minnesota. I've spoken with her most closely-linked social worker and heard the details this afternoon, and it sounds ideal for us. The baby is a boy, about 1.5 months old as of this writing. He's a remarkable baby. He was born without any ventricles in his heart.

That's right, he was born, as near as I can tell, without the bottom half of his heart. And yet he's still alive, and according to his social worker, thriving. This child needs a chance in life. I am the man to give it to him, and The Wife is the woman to give it to him. If that wasn't enough, he was born with two thumbs on one hand. This struck me, against my expectations, as pretty cool. Then my mom told me that this is a genetic trait in some families in the area my folks come from, which sort of wrecked a cool mythology I was building up for myself and my future(?) child.

Anyway, it looks like The Wife and I will possibly be visiting the birthmom tomorrow night. Who knows? Maybe we'll be bringing home the latest member of our family.

Cool, huh?

I love my life.

PS. I'm put in mind of the frog-and-cricket orchestra that attends our backyard in warmer times of the year. What do you suppose those critters are doing right now?

"Celeste" Makes a Run For The Border

2008-02-08T17:18:00.000-08:00

...and comes up short. Heh.

First of all, this post is done during work. That means basically that I can only type when I'm waiting for some other (computerized) process to complete, which is usually only about 1 minute or less at a time, so bear with me.

Anyway, "Celeste" decided Wednesday that she had had enough of living in foster care. She was done with our fascistic tendency of forcing her to let us know where she was at all time. After all, *real* kids don't have to do that. She was done with our horribly oppressive regime of loving her, making sure she didn't hurt herself, and (the absolute gall) forbidding her contact with certain people that she found "cool". Truly, people. Hide your children. We are fascists who will swallow up your puny capitalistic society.

So "Celeste" decided that it would be novel to do what kids had done to my parents in the 70s and 80s...go to the cops. Her mistake was to do it after saying things that led us to believe that she meant it...so the cops were actively looking for her as she walked into the police station and claimed asylum from the evil dictatorship that is being practiced in our house. Hey, it saved the K-9 pooch from having to do a reprise of the act he did earlier that saved her life.

Anyway, this caused her to be sent to another PATH home nearby for a night. And then, right back into our house. Yep, the same one she was fleeing, and the very outcome we had hoped for. At times in the past in political blogs, I have left comments to the effect that I had never seen our local government(s) make an intelligent decision. I now have to take that back. They're doing right by "Celeste", just by re-subjecting her to the ministrations of The Wife. Because The Wife loves her, and I love her, and we're GOING to fix this thing, if they give us the chance.

Regarding this, I heard comforting noises last night. If the normal man in the normal situation said he heard "comforting noises", you might think he heard reconciliation, followed by hugs all around and everybody forgiving everybody. I am neither a normal man nor is this a normal situation. What I heard that was comforting was that I heard, for the first time (of many) a session of crying from "Celeste" that sounded sincere. As I learned later from The Wife, a lot of it had to do with her boyfriend breaking up with her.

Don't Pooh pooh that. It's a serious thing. The girl that hooked me in my freshman year of high school had my heart (mostly, with only a little competition from 2 others that both would probably have had my full attention if they'd only found me sooner) for my entire high-school romantic "career". I know where "Celeste" is. On the other hand, I look at she, and any other girl we have, as potential moms. What will they teach the inevitable kids they have?

I heard HONEST tears from the other room last night. The Wife knows exactly where "Celeste" is at. She's had more than her share of heartbreak. I was friends with her for much longer than I've been her husband. I know she won't like it, but I'll say that I absorbed some of her tears back in college, at the same time that I was wishing I could have her. There is at least one "incident" that occurred back in the fall of '90 that we both remember well, and that I believe put me on the path to being her husband. If only she'd shown any interest back then...Heh.

But I digress. I heard HONEST tears out of "Celeste". That's enough. She was letting out something that needed to get out, and I'm glad. I hope it continues.

I'm confused by "Celeste's" love life, but I love my life. And my love life.

"Celeste" Pushes the Envelope (And "Josie" Goes Down the Tubes")

2008-02-05T20:47:00.000-08:00

This girl is good. I mean GOOD. But, the problem is, we've gotten wise to her ways. She has YET to learn that she has no real power in this situation, except to just give it up and TRY. We've now got it set up so that if she screws up at school, she'll get hit at home. If she screws up at home, she'll get in-school suspension (ISS). That's like a daylong study hall, except without the fun.

Now, she's stepped across a couple of other boundaries. She's pierced her NIPPLE. Good God. I'm not a woman, but I picture someone trying to pierce my sack, and I just have to pound their head. What is wrong with this girl??? Somebody please enlighten me in the comments.

Anyway, that's only a small disclosure of the many, many things she's done to deserve to be in ISS for 5 years. Do we still love her? More than ever. Because we tend to interpret her increasing violations of the boundaries that she damn well knows as tests. And her tests will be passed. The girl is now grounded until sometime in 2013.

"Josie". Sigh. I was talking to "Melanie" tonight, and she let slip that "Josie" is now doing meth. It is now only a matter of time until "Josie" either wises up or dies. Based on prior experience, I guess I have to steel myself for tragedy. It's the only way to keep myself from crying as I write this.

And yet...there's still hope. I still hope. I just wish I had been the only father figure in that girl's life. If that was the case, there's no way she would have such low self-esteem. She'd know much higher standards. But now I can only smile and nod when I see her and hope for a chance to address the things that are hurting her so bad.

Why do we do this fostering stuff? Because we care. Maybe sometimes we care too much. But that's far, far better than caring too little.

More Health Care/Politics Stuff

2008-02-05T19:44:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know, this bores a lot of you. However, I started to comment back to the comments in the earlier thread, and ran afoul of the text limits. No fun. So I'll spend this post responding to the very good comments I recieved in that thread, and follow it up very soon with what I really wanted to write about when I logged in.

--------------------------

Wonderful comments. Thank you all. As I hope you know, I'm not doing this to be a polemicist...I really want to know what the attraction is of a national health care system, given the bad things I've heard from people who've lived it.

So...

"sb": You commented (in part) "I don't criticize people who don't want a national insurance system--I just think their perspective is very limited, often to a range of about 200 mi around their own homes."

I answer: This is the heart of federalism, an ideology that is slowly being strangled in the US. To me, the practical effect of federalism is that spending and legislative decisions are brought closer to where you live. This makes the responsibility of those making the decisions much more immediate. I can pick up a phone and call my state rep. I can pick up a phone and get a busy signal for my national rep. It's a bigger problem for a local politician if I get pissed. If the case is bad enough, I can mobilize my town. That's a much bigger problem for him than for a guy whose constituency is much bigger than just my town. If most politicians are facing the people they make decisions about on a personal level, I firmly believe they'll make better, more urgent decisions. I'm new in the neighborhood and don't even know who my state rep is right now, but I damn well knew it was Steve Smith when I lived in Mound, MN. I never had a real reason to call him, but I called him once on general principle. His wife answered, and said he was walking the dog. Then, "oh, wait, I think he just got home. Just a second." I waited. A male voice came on. I asked if this was Mr. Smith. He said yes, and what could he do for me, since his caller ID indicated that I was a constituent? I'm afraid I made a fool of myself, because I had no point in calling other than to see if he was really there if I called. I want that guy making my decisions. What chance to I have to talk personally with my DC rep?

Anonymous: You commented (in part): "Personally, I *can't* get insured, except through a job or through my state's high risk pool. I'm lucky to have found a job that offers insurance, as the high risk pool was way too expensive to join. For people who aren't the poorest of the poor but have pre-existing conditions, I suppose it probably is possible to get health care without insurance, but it might also mean lots of debt that would follow us around for the rest of our lives."

I answer: Welcome to my world. Check my archives. I have cystic fibrosis, as does my sister. Who's going to cover me, EVER (except if they're my employer?) My point stands. Why should other people shoulder my medical costs through government mandate? I've managed to get health insurance and keep it since I was diagnosed. I have full confidence that if I was really in trouble with CF, I'd find a hospital that would help. I'd fight like hell to pay back as much as I could, too...but even if I didn't, people are DECENT. They'll help. Maybe I've got too much faith. But I don't think so.

Second anonymous: You commented (in full, because I REALLY like it): "It is also very discouraging to see family members that are not given medical service. My mother would not go to a doctor because she could not afford the bill it would create. After my father died, she was working three part time jobs, none of which would/could supply insurance options.

Small town America limits the options for jobs, yet how do you move if you have lived your entire life there and raised your family there as well?

My point is that you may know people that do not visit a doctor because they cannot afford insurance, but they do not make a big deal out of it until the situation gets critical."

I wish I could know your mother. She sounds like a woman I could really respect and admire, and hopefully emulate. I also understand your dilemma, and have known people personally that have shared it. However, she makes the choice to deny herself services in this case (from how it sounds). She would not have been denied from treatment from many places, but she values her status as someone who wants to owe nobody anything. I live in small-town America too, though I'm lucky enough to have a college degree, and hold a job where health is included (though expensive anyway). I know many, many people who would die rather than leave the place they were born and lived their whole life. I'm fast becoming one of them. As to your point, that's a pretty personal decision. I still don't think anybody would be forcibly denied around here...though it IS often something that requires persistence.

"Loren": You commented (in full, because it's brief): "I'm a long-time lurker and appreciate your insight on foster care and adoption.

I guess you can get medical care if you don't mind claiming bankruptcy. See this article from early 2005.

http://www.scienceagogo.com/news/20050102023437data_trunc_sys.shtml"

I answer: I gave a brief scan of your link, but it's really immaterial in my view. In the US, most credit problems have a horizon of 7 years (or so I've understood from the financial pros I've had the privilege to ask.) Most financial apps have the question "have you declared bankruptcy in the last 7 years?" Let's see...wreck my credit rating for 7 years or save my life....hmmm...

I don't mean to make fun, but DECLARE BANKRUPTCY in that case. That is precisely the kind of situation for which the very concept of bankruptcy was formulated. I'm more concerned about the bankruptcy protection laws that allow someone declaring bankruptcy to keep their half-million-dollar home, their hummer, and all their toys.

mj: You commented (in part): "I too dont support national healthcare. I really think it would downgrade our system without some of the competetive nature of having it private. I do think there maybe more we can do to get more people insurance but we should be leaning on the insurance companies not the government to do this."

Right on, brother/sister. A solution based on private enterprise is ALWAYS better than some sort of government bureaucracy bearing a pretty name.

American Health Care, And Politics In General

2008-02-01T21:24:00.000-08:00

I'm a very political person. I have to be.

You see, I'm an Eagle Scout. It's like being a Marine. Once you join that club, you're pretty much always active duty.

In the course of earning my Eagle award, I had to earn three merit badges that ended up coloring my future life in permanent marker: Citizenship in the Community, Citizenship in the Nation, and Citizenship in the World. When I went through the program, these were all required in order to get Eagle. No idea if that's still the case.

So...I know I have some international readers. I particularly want to hear in the comments from people in nations like Canada or Britain, which already have national health care. Because I'm listening to the Dem candidates, and I have to say that this is an issue where I disagree with both Clinton and Obama. They both seem to be trying to outdo each other on how we can nationalize health care fastest. And I just don't see the benefit...and after talking with my Canadian friends (all three or so of them) I am not encouraged that this is the way to go.

I am a thriving member of the evil capitalist entity that is America. I also am an active provider of social services here. I personally know people that are in the worst circumstances that it is possible to be in while still in America, and I have yet to meet anybody who has been unable to get medical treatment for themselves or their children. No, I'm not a Republican shill. I'm just stating the facts as I see them. I repeat: after about 2.5 years actively working in the social system in the US, I have yet to see a person rejected for ANY kind of health service, if they asked for it. This includes dental.

Makes me wonder why I pay for dental and health...until I realize that it's people like me who pay their bills religiously that allow these medical guys to do some freebies. It seems to be working out really well for our country, so I haven't argued.

But now we have people who would be our president telling us that they will gladly confiscate our money so that illegal aliens, along with my fellow citizens, can benefit from the many dollars I pay in taxes.

Call me a "nativist" if you must. Call me a conservative if you wish, though "conservative" has gotten to be a scapegoat term in recent years.

I actually LIKE GWB as president. At least with this guy, you know what to expect, am I right?
Anyway, I just needed to ask if my international readers (and I KNOW you're there, because I do check my referral logs) feel that nationalizing our healthcare is a thing you would recommend.

Other stuff? Well, I've been working with Mary...we'll see. The girl is just DEVIOUS. And I LIKE it. If I don't write a novel, I'm probably going to have to write a nonfiction book about how it is to try to adopt.

Black Belt in Tae-Husband-Do, and Shame On Society

2008-01-31T18:51:00.000-08:00

Yeah, that's right. I be bad. I bought The Wife a brand spanking new laptop today. With a Wi Fi hub, to go with the built-in card in the laptop. This means that theoretically she should be able to go anywhere within like 100 or 500 or some damned number of feet from the hub and still be able to surf and do email and stuff. I am a marital god.

Not only for that, though...but for the reason I was able to do that. And that reason is that I got the taxes done and filed last Saturday and got our state return back today. Yeah, that's right all you procrastinators out there. While you're slogging to the mailbox to drop your snail-mail return on April 15, I won't even be able to remember how much we got back this year. Bwahahaha!!!1!

Ahem.

Now that I have the pride worked out of my system, I'll also say that the rest of our refund (which was considerable this year for various reasons), along with my yearly bonus and most of what The Wife is pulling down in her new job (which is more than we thought it would be) is ALL going to opening up room on our credit card.

Because we just can't wait on our agency any more. We've contacted another place who does NOT demand payment until there is a match...and they talk like they might actually be able to come through for us, or at least talk to us once in awhile for reasons other than to demand more money. That song is getting so OLD. They also have given us firm dollar ranges for various types of matches. I'm going to like working with them. Thanks to Mary for hooking us up.

The only thing that's depressing--and this is NOT a knock on this particular outfit but I guess against the world in general--is that they have to split out their cost by race. Until the last 5 or 10 years, I thought we had mostly moved beyond this whole race pile of crap. But, as the Democratic primary scrap advertises to the world, I guess race is still very much with us. And you get a discount on black babies. Like I said, I don't blame the agency. Apparently it's like that everywhere. The freaking MARKET determines it. And that means all of us.

How sick is that? Who CARES what color a child's skin is? It's a tiny little miniature person who depends on you for everything at first. It grows, it loves you, you love it back. It gradually demands independence more and more, it grows to disrespect you and demand the keys to your car. It pleads with you for college money, then learns to respect you again by age 30 if you did your parenting right. Then you get to laugh at it when it has children of its own, and you get to spoil those children rotten so they demonstrate to it how evil it had treated you. "The Lion King" lied to us. THIS is the TRUE circle of life.

If it is black, white, yellow or purple, the only important thing is that you get the last laugh on it. Am I being cynical? I guess I am. I have that right. Most people just get to go for a fun roll in the hay when they feel it's time to have their own. It's a lot more expensive than that for us.

And yet it's less expensive if the child is black, a little more if it's "bi-racial", and you pay a premium for *drum roll, please* CAUCASION. Somehow I think that if we get a black child, I won't want to point out that little detail of their adoption. It's not something that would be likely to help their self-esteem, I don't think.

People should be ashamed of themselves.

Letter to "Celeste"

2008-01-21T18:36:00.000-08:00

It's been bad lately. How bad is it? "Celeste" has screwed up several times a day, EVERY SINGLE DAY, for what The Wife says is about a week and a half but to me seems like it must at LEAST have been 3 weeks.

We only suspected for awhile that she was purposely *trying* to get herself sent away. Now we have it from her own mouth. My answer? "That's *NEVER* going to happen." And that answer has the bonus value of even possibly being true. But I'm frustrated enough with her at the moment that it may be false, too.

There were many blowups tonight. It's the very first time I've ever seen "Celeste" in actual, uncalculated TEARS. Breakthrough? Probably only of the statistical kind. And yet...and yet...wouldn't it be nice if it really was a breakthrough? It could have been. It's hard to tell after you've been lied to so often and for so long.

We called over our best fostering buddy. This is a woman who I have written about before, but her position in our life has changed considerably since we met her. She used to be the fellow foster parent who usually hosted our Share and Support meetings. She struck me as a pretty woman, very smart, very tolerant of a rather fiery husband (long time readers will remember him as the guy who is one of my heroes, who raises horses and who does horse therapy as one of his sidelines). She is now my wife's boss, a professional psychologist, basically runs the day-treatment school and is an Absolute Authority On All Things Relating To Troubled Children.

So we called this woman over to witness a child's meltdown. The main reason was that we wanted to provide her a professional opportunity to witness dysfunction in action. It was only a side benefit that she could soothe us, calm our nerves, tell us that we in fact after all weren't the root of all evil in the world and in general keep us from running screaming from the fostering scene.

In the aftermath, I have nothing left that I want to write except the following letter. It is a private letter to "Celeste", but there are very few things in my life that I actually keep really private, so I'll let you peek in like the disgusting voyeurs that I know you all are.

"Celeste":

You were very upset tonight. I know that. I have come to know a lot about you. I also know that that makes you very uncomfortable, and I'm sorry about that.

But girl, that's all part of the whole process.

You see, when you came to us, you had had some truly vicious things happen to you in your life. No, I don't know the particulars of everything that went on before...but I've had enough dealings with other people in your position then that I can guess more accurately than maybe you would give me credit for.

I know you're a smart girl. I know you're a pretty girl. I love you. I love fighting off the boys that chase you. Sometimes I even love your temper tantrums. Tonight is not one of those times, though.

I've told you many times that you'll never escape us, and I meant it, though maybe not in the exact sense that you thought. Oh, we'll keep you in our house as long as we reasonably can...but just as you suspected, you can ruin our lives to the point that we'll let you go if you try hard enough. You can do that until you end up in the state or federal penitentiary system, if you try that hard. Even then, you might be able to get them to ship you around from cinder block hotel to iron bar motel if you try hard enough.

The thing is, you're a smart girl. Why are you striving for these places? One of your favorite sayings, at least to spew in the faces of me and the woman I love, is "I don't care". The real question is, why don't you care? What don't you care about? I've tried many times to ask you these questions, and you just get agitated to the point where I never get a real answer and end up declining to defend myself against one false (and sometimes even true, like when I "accused" you of having tried to burn yourself) accusation or another. But you never answer the question.

And I know you are not likely to answer those kinds of questions to me. You don't consider me a legitimate authority over you, and I can live with that. I don't necessarily consider myself a legitimate authority over myself sometimes. But I've also lived a lot longer than you. Almost three times as long...and the most growing I did was in my 30s, which lie in your future...if I can convince you to hang around that long, anyway. Compared to you, I have wisdom. And I'm pleading with you to please answer those questions for yourself, girl. Whether you ever tell me or anybody else the answers, at least think about it long enough to give the answers to yourself.

I know whereof I speak on this issue. I was an unhappily married, rabidly practicing alcoholic at one point in my life. I would never wish the same situation on any human being, much less on a girl that I consider my daughter in spirit, if not in fact. But that's the kind of life you're hell bent for, if you follow your current path.

Life can be such a blessing. You know that. I've seen your eyes light up when you talk about your particularly good friends. I've seen that same light in your eyes when you've spoken of your father, though it's usually followed by immediate clouds then. I've seen the same light when you don't think I'm watching and you're drawing a picture that seems to be turning out especially good. I've seen the same light when you look at my wife sometimes. Why never at me? But that's a selfish consideration, I guess. The problem is, you don't even look at her like that anymore.

There was a time when you were welcome in our house without precondition (though there were conditions on you remaining here). You'll always be able to come here if life punches you in the gut and you need a little time to recover before you go out to fight again. The problem is, you still have 5 years or so until you even have to try, and you're already floundering, and we don't know how to help. You can't keep on mistreating us like this and expect us to ignore it.

There's a reason we've been telling you so often lately to look in the mirror when you ask us why one or another real or imagined problem is slapping you in the face. We understand that you want to be able to express yourself, but for your own good you're going to have to learn that your freedom to swing your arm freely ends immediately at the tip of the nose of the person standing next to you. The whole world is not going to be awed at your expression of yourself if you break the noses of those around you. They'll be repulsed by your presumption.

And yet...there is real beauty in you, girl. There is the soul of an artist. I don't know if you'll make a profession of it, or if you'll just use it to enrich the lives of those you come to know personally, but you'll use it well. You already do. I once aspired to be a professional actor, and you have much more talent than I ever had. But I came in my life to a point where now I spend a lot of my time, money and effort supporting young people like you who will go on to bigger things. If I can turn my own teenage rages, desires and drives to a productive direction, I know you can eventually too.

So what will it be, wild girl? I think you love me, deep down inside, though you've never said as much to my face. That would be showing "weakness" after all, right? But whether or not you love me, I'm telling you right now that your best shot in life is to trust me when I tell you that it's best you don't see this person or that. I'm telling you it's you're best shot that even if you don't agree, you just submit, or even argue mildly rather than in my face as your natural instinct seems to be.

Because I'm telling you right now that my spirit is wild, too. Just like yours. If you engage me in a heated argument, I'm likely to respond in kind, and that will harden my heart against what you want. I'm pretty stubborn, too. Just like you.

On the other hand, if you see my jaw set, and I give you a challenging glare, your best course is to soften your look. I guarantee that's the best way to win me over. Give in a little. I guarantee I'll meet you halfway, if not immediately then before very long.

I can be played like a fiddle and be left happy that you did so. All I need to know is that you are, overall, happy, healthy and progressing toward a life where you might be able to help others someday. Then you'll become the favored daughter that I know you long to be.

But right now it's nasty between us, and I KNOW I've had very little hand in that. The ball is in your court, girl. Yes, you can probably get yourself sent away from this house...for a time. But I have it on good authority that you won't go anywhere you'll have fond memories of, and you'll be back here when the bad part is over. Then you'll just have to start over, but with people who know the kind of crap you're capable of.

And then we'll continue to love you like we have all along, only we'll have lost a lot of time.

You remember the time I called you on the carpet (in the park, at the church group gathering where you made me leave my volleyball game early) last summer a few weeks after you arrived here and I gave you the ultimatum to decide whether you wanted to be here, and if you didn't then you'd better let me know right then? You said yes, you wanted to be here. I took you at your word. There's no turning back. From that moment, I loved you, though maybe you didn't think so at the time and maybe don't even now.

Even if you finally succeed in leaving here forever somehow, you'll never be able to change the love we have for you. Someday I truly hope you come to understand that completely. And I really hope that when you do, you let us know.

Dan

PS. I love you girl. I only repeat it because I know you haven't believed it any of the other times I've told you, and maybe just this one more time will drive it home.

Writing for Audiences

2008-01-16T19:52:00.000-08:00

People who have read some of my older posts know that I'm a Stephen King (SK) fan. They also probably know that I have been trying unsuccessfully for some time to get up the mojo to begin writing a novel. I've considered the vanity press and just writing something and paying for it to be published so I can say I'm an author, but that seems like a cheap way out. I want someone to like my stuff enough to actually put their money on the line to take a flyer on the chance it might sell some copies.

And that seems to have bound me up in other questions. You see, those of us who worship Stephen King's every word also read his prefaces and so forth. Mr. King is, I suspect like all successful novelists, a complete and unreconstructed egomaniac. Therefore, he refers to me as "constant reader". I forgive him this because, after all, it accurately describes me. And also because the guy is a friggin' genius at getting inside my head and making me want his next offering even more.

Thing is, it's not lack of talent that has stopped me so far. I know I have a certain facility with words. I know I've hit some homers in this blog. I know I've dropped most of my posts in the sewer. What's more, I usually know the difference between the two, and I'm capable of writing enough bombs and stinkers to be able to pick out the gems and stitch them together into a pretty nice tapestry, if I give myself the time and put in the effort.

And therein lies the problem with writing your very best stuff. You are REALLY stretching yourself out and putting your soul on the line when you decide you're going to write a novel. You're going to go through all the crap that you've spent a month writing, pull out the gems, stitch them together and come up with probably a chapter that you can actually use. You have to do this over and over again, for maybe years, until you get enough stuff that will make an entire book.

And for what? Rejection letters. Often your stuff will never get a serious reading. I don't blame anybody in particular for this and I don't need to be told specifically that it happens. I just picture the poor sap who has to slog through 3 novels a week or whatever for minimum wage, and I understand. Then, in order for your bid for stardom to be successful, your offering has to make it through this poor sap to his superior, and to *that* person's superior and so on until it gets to someone who can actually make the decision to offer this guy a contract. Impossible. Or so it would seem.

SK, after he "became" Stephen King, decided to see if he could do it AGAIN. He decided to write as "Richard Bachman", and attempted to publish some works as this fictional writer. You may recognize such works as "Running Man" (The Schwartzeneggar movie was so far from the original that I suggest you read the short story to get the real taste of it). I'm not sure but I think that "The Long Walk" was also by "Richard Bachman". Also "Thinner". Both of those last two deserve to be made into movies, if they haven't already. Even a SK fan can't keep up with all the SK stuff that has been immortalized in film, it seems.

Anyway, the real thing writing-wise SK gave me was to say in some interview or other that he wrote about 10 pages a day. 10 PAGES A DAY. The way it was presented, I was given to believe that yes, there were editing hassles that took more time, but the original manuscript took about 10 pages per day. WOW. And from what I glean from the same sources, he only spends about 3/4 of the time making a living that I do, MAX. That would be about 6 hours a day or a little more. AND WHAT A LIVING IT IS, hey? This guy probably owns Maine by now.

I can only assume that SK does not share my affliction. He MUST have a better ratio of cream to crap. How does he do it? Don't know. As I actually approach the precipice of actually writing my own stuff targeted at non-blog-readers, I'm scared as hell. You guys are EASY compared to that.

On that note, I should thank Auntie J profusely for actually handing over her stuff to me for proofreading. She wrote an entire novel and gave it to me for some proofreading.

She seemed reluctant. I thought at the time that she was being wimpy. I know now what she was fighting with, and I haven't even had the guts to actually create the product, much less give it to someone else to read. For that, J, I apologize. Almost as much as I apologize for the fact that you haven't gotten a proofread copy back from me since you gave it to me. Hope you don't mind if I change some minor sentence structure issues and so forth. I am actually quite good at some things, though you have no real reason to believe that's true yet. Trust me.

Anyway, I've got writing issues along with fostering and adopting issues. That's all I really had to say, I guess. Sorry it took so many words to say it. The mark of a bad writer? Maybe. But I'm counting on you people to buy copies if and when I actually ever make the leap.

You are now returned to your regularly scheduled program.

Gotcha

2008-01-16T18:21:00.000-08:00

"Celeste" has been a real pill lately. Unknowingly following in "Josie's" footsteps, she decided that it would be just a peachy-keen idea the other day to pierce her tongue. She has since been disabused of that notion.

Likewise the notion that she should assume that because she's walking with her new boyfriend, limits on walk time are magically erased (she usually is allowed 20 minutes...MAYBE 1/2 hour, and they took nearly an hour and a half).

Likewise the notion that she should feel free, while out on such a walk with her boyfriend who we've just started to get to know, to stop in at a friend's house. When I was around 19 or 20, I too took a girlfriend to a friend's house...it wasn't very innocent. And at 13, she is (in matters such as this) about what I was at 25. No dice, little girl, and playing dumb won't save you anymore now that we know you're probably at least as smart as us (except with regard to things like wisdom and common sense, of course).

I wasn't aware, but apparently her new day-treatment school--the very same one where The Wife is not working--intrudes into her life more than I had thought, and is wonderfully helpful in keeping her youthful exuberance tamped down, or at least pointed in a direction where it won't hurt anybody. She spent today in in-school suspension. This sounds to me essentially like an all-day study hall, which is something that would be guaranteed to piss her off but good.

And as if on cue, as she got in the van with The Wife to head home at day's end, she decided to vent her frustration:

"Celeste:" "Thanks for the day of ISS!

The Wife: Just a second...(flips down visor with mirror on the back to reflect her innocent young face back to her)...okay, now say that again.

Absolutely priceless. I wish I could have been there.

But you know what? The Wife reports happily that it actually shut her up all the way home. Not only that, but when my time neared to get home from work, "Celeste" asked what was for supper. The Wife asked what "Celeste" was planning to make for supper? "Celeste" replied "I don't know. Let me look." She then proceeded into the kitchen, found some stuff that apparently appealed to her, went back out and suggested that she make that. The Wife (after picking her jaw up off the floor, I imagine) agreed, after which "Celeste" proceeded back to the kitchen and began preparations.

When I got home, supper was on the table with full settings within 10 or 15 minutes. WOW.

I made sure not only to make sure this girl understood that I liked the dinner (which was really quite good) but also that I HUGELY appreciated that she took some of the load off of The Wife. I didn't push it past that because it seems that if you push the compliments too hard her BS detector goes off whether you're trying to feed her any or not, and she just shuts it down. And that's something I'm trying to avoid.

Mom doesn't care for "Celeste" a lot of the time. I think she now likes her better than she used to, but overall I don't think it would hurt Mom's feelings if "Celeste" went back home. Then again, Mom fostered in what seems like a whole other era. Then, maybe 1/4 of the kids had severe psychological problems. Over half of them seemed like kids that could really make a go of it if they just got nurturing, structured support. Mom was very good at providing that, and did it often and well. Better than anyone I've ever seen.

These kids seem...more broken. They need a little more TLC maybe than the kids mom dealt with, and they need someone a little more willing to be abused, a little more willing to look for the good side to them. And they do respond, if you give them a chance. "Celeste" is one of those. "Jill" and "Josie" were definitely NOT. They were both as manipulative as they come, and I suspect they'll both end up in jail or even prison sooner or later (though I still have a massive soft spot for "Josie", God knows why. I won't cry very hard if I never see "Jill" again, as awful as it is to say it.)

I worry about the general trend society at large is taking, though. These kids are starting to come thicker and faster than I've ever seen them. Social workers are burning out. There is now an entire county who we categorically refuse to take referrals from (the same county "Angel" came from, as a matter of fact) because the whole social services system there seems so broken that they don't seem to know or care who is even supposed to be in their care, what those people are doing or what is happening to them. It's hard enough to help fix someone with the right supports, never mind when they decide that they don't have funds after all and we just don't get reimbursed for weeks of good care. Life's too short for THAT, am I right?

But The Wife got off a good one against "Celeste" today, and it seemed to really hit the target. That makes it all worth it. We're learning this thing, bit by bit, and we're helping the kids.

Oh. And thanks for the several private emails I received and the kind comments regarding our adoption situation. It means more than I can really say to know that there are people out there who don't know me at all outside this blog and yet keep us in their thoughts and prayers.

Which just may be working, by the way. The entity known here most frequently as "Auntie J", who would indeed by Auntie J if we are successful in our kidquest, called tonight. She knows someone who's maybe looking for adoptive parents. Finger-crossing exercises shall commence immediately. And, Auntie, if you could just give them a little push, or maybe a clobber over the head if it would help, we'd be most appreciative.

Hard as it sometimes seems, I love my life. Wouldn't trade it, and ESPECIALLY The Wife, for anything at all.

Anxious Times (And a Shameless Plug)

2008-01-14T19:05:00.000-08:00

I originally started writing this as a post on our parentprofiles.com "journal", but it wanted to be more than that, so here it is. It will bring you up to date on mom as well as let you know how pathetically desperate we are to have a baby. It will also fill in some of you who maybe didn't read some of the archive.

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

Anxious times.

My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple of weeks ago. She had a mastectomy on Friday, spent the weekend recovering in the hospital and is now home finishing her recovery. All seems to be surprisingly well, thank God. Her prognosis is great, and she doesn't even need to go through chemotherapy or radiation treatment. What a blessing.

Mom is the main reason we ended up being foster parents. She and Dad were foster parents from the time I was about 7 for roughly 29 years. In that time, they had maybe 150 kids (we really lost count around 100) from the ages of 4 to 17 stay in their house...maybe half of those while I still lived with them.

Dad taught me by example what it was to be a man. Take care of your family, ignore your own needs when the family needs are greater, AT ALL COSTS keep your woman reasonably happy :), and so forth. Mom taught me what it was to sacrifice yourself for others. She taught me the need to put as much good out into the world as I can. Dad not being the talking kind, she taught me about the birds and the bees...and she made sure I understood that women were not a thing to be treated lightly, but rather with respect and almost reverence. The Wife is glad the lesson took.

Mom and Dad were an immensely great parenting team. They raised two successful, well-adjusted (or so they tell me) kids, plus they managed to foster ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY other kids. Think about that. These aren't just ordinary kids, either. They were in foster care, which usually means there are at least SOME issues behind the scenes that makes them "problem children". Kids that will soak up all the attention and love you can spare, and then spit in your face and ask why you didn't do more for them.

We know. We are foster parents now, and we are experiencing this very thing firsthand.

Mom was the driving force behind the whole fostering thing, too. Her whole life was centered around children...her own as well as any others that she came into contact with that needed her attention. Dad (I don't think) could not possibly have cared less about children as an abstract concept the way Mom did. He loved the foster kids we had, and FOR SURE he loved my sister and me, but mostly he just wanted to raise his family, be a good (to me, great) man, have his peace with God and pass his days in an honorable way. Problem was, the true love of his life had other plans. He probably wasn't the first OR last in that predicament. I happen to think he comported himself admirably.

Anyway, this woman who has done so much for so many kids is now doing fine. Matter of fact, she had one of her "model" kids on hand to wish her well on Saturday while we were there. This would be the friend who reads this blog, who roomed with me off and on throughout college, and who is one of my very best friends to this day. He's one of the ones that insists on showing up to the "college friends" reunions I keep organizing, and he's one of the reasons I keep organizing them.

All that said, I keep hearing about how there are so many babies who need homes. I am now publishing an official plea to anybody who might come across this post. We have a very stable home. We're both too old to party effectively, both of us having last done a creditable job of that a decade ago. We're finacially secure, we have a VERY strong marriage, and all our attention would be on any baby we can adopt.

We're willing to SERIOUSLY consider a sibling group of any size up to maybe 4 (5 if you talk to me when The Wife isn't around, and it's a thing I could possibly talk her into). We seriously need to get the whole family-building thing going. Mom's near-miss has just brought that home to me even more. I NEED this to happen for both Mom and Dad "In The Living Years" (Mike and the Mechanics reference).

So we're feeling really, really insecure right now, so let me just say this...if anybody out there is pregnant or knows of anybody who is and is considering adoption, please get in touch with us. There's an email link on the sidebar to email me, and I check it most days. We're willing to talk about financial support and we'll DEFINITELY give that child a life with loving parents and education commensurate with their ability (up to and including ivy league, if they're that type). We even have available living quarters for however many months a mom may need it (even after the birth for a certain amount of time, if necessary). We're willing to do an "open" adoption, depending on the circumstances. All we ask is that we be allowed to raise the child and be its "real" parents.

So enough with the plug. Thanks for reading, and I'll try to post more often in the near future.

Dread

2008-01-03T19:14:00.000-08:00

Well, I just got the word...Mom's got cancer. She goes in Tuesday for surgery. I'm feeling a little out of sorts about it at the moment and don't have much else to say right now, but I thought you'd appreciate knowing.

Prayers, please, people.

Fun and Fear

2008-01-01T11:37:00.000-08:00

Fun: we had a party last night. I was a little nervous because we had invited quite a few people and I didn't know how it would work out as far as space goes, but even with our basement not yet ready for prime time it was no problem. It's a large house we find ourselves in, and with the basement we probably could have another 5 or 10 guests than we had without a problem.

We had lots of conversation, food, and fun playing board games. We gave some good people a place to have a great time with their kids where there was no drinking. We strengthened some really good relationships with people we've known awhile but never really met in a truly non-church social setting and I think even most of the kids had a really good time.

It's amazing when you look around these small towns...everywhere you go on New Year's Eve, there's drinking (and often worse). It can be tough to find a safe way to spend the evening outside your home with your kids that won't break the bank. I was really glad that we could provide such a thing for our friends, and maybe we'll make it a tradition. Maybe it'll even inspire some of them to have a similar party at their own house for other people they know next year. A guy can always hope, right?

Fear: I haven't posted any thoughts on it because I'm still processing it myself, but we recently discovered that there is a good chance that Mom has breast cancer. She was in for a biopsy yesterday and we're supposed to know the results hopefully by the end of the week. The doctors seem to have given her their professional opinion that from what they saw so far, it looks like it'll be malignant, but we need to wait for the final results to know for sure.

Mom is a tough lady. She was a real survivor when she was a kid. The oldest of 10 in what many today would probably call a "hick" family, she left home at an early age. As I understand it, she put herself through college and then helped my dad through college (never mind that she then helped put her two children through college so they wouldn't have to do it by themselves). For the most part, my maternal grandparents didn't much care whether my sister or I existed as far as I was able to tell when I was a kid. Since my paternal grandparents were both dead when I was very young, that left my folks to face the world with two young children and no real emotional or financial support from either of their parents. Yeek. AND they had to be both parents and double-grandparents to us. I look at the mess that some of the mothers and fathers of our foster kids are with parents that have LIVING parents, and I cringe to think how my life might have been if my parents had not been the quality people that they are.

So. Mom being the hardass that she is (sorry Mom, but you KNOW it's true), she has no time for feeling sorry for herself. She's taken the attitude that if the docs say something has to be cut out, there'll be no pussyfooting around. It doesn't sound like there'll be any "lumpectomy" or any such nonsense. Off with it.

This is the kind of attitude I had to contend with when I was growing up. I'm glad to see that she's finally channeling it in a productive direction.

Heh.

Anyway, any thoughts or prayers anybody could spare would be most appreciated in the next few weeks. This woman is one of the primary reasons that this blog exists. She's put (forced, more like it) more good out into the world for more people than anybody I've ever known. More people call her "mom" than any woman I've ever known. She's put up with more than most women have had to in her life...and all I'm asking is that she be allowed to be there to see us finally get one or more children, and be allowed to hold and love those children, and be allowed to see at least a portion--preferably most or all--of their growing years.

She deserves that. And I'm not ashamed to ask God to give it to her. I owe her that, and so much more.

Mom. If this goes the way we're preparing for it to go, please get better soon. I don't know if we're ready to fly completely solo yet. It's much better to have you sitting in the back seat giving advice, even if we insist sometimes on having our own damned wrong way. We love you.

Reply from Mom, Plus Other Stuff....

2007-12-24T11:36:00.000-08:00

Okay, first of all, Mom wants me to tone down the whining from my last post. I have to agree with her, so I will.

Second, I need to whine about how the flu took over my house for Christmas. Mom was throwing up, so was Dad, and now so is The Wife. I haven't yet, and I hope I don't because I don't have any sick days left and it would really suck to have to cause a problem at work this close to the end of the year.

Ok. That's out of the way then.

Tonight, "Celeste" opened up to me in a way that she never has yet. She had not yet bought her dad a Christmas present, and I was the nearest male who might know anything about ice fishing. Her dad loves ice fishing. Soooooo...it all went well until we got home again. Then she tried EVERY SINGLE TRICK IN THE BOOK to try to get me to feel sorry for her. No dice...well, not really NO dice. I know how she feels. But I made her understand that I know what she was trying to do to me and that it wouldn't work. Oops. Now she hates me.

Well, not exactly HATES...but those of you who are foster parents, or even just parents, know what I'm talking about now. She hates that I'm on to her, and that I love her.

Hooh, boy, does she hate that I LOVE her. I've decided that I'm going to tell her again and again and again until she stops being uncomfortable with it. Because it's TRUE. I love this girl, and The Wife does too, and there's nothing she can do to change that. Maybe that's what she needs.

Anyway, hope you all had a Merry Christmas. We didn't, really...but then again we did. I had my Mom & Dad with me, and Dad got to play in our basement, and he helped get our brakes fixed. And I got to do some ice fishing. So by any practical measure, I guess we didn't do too bad.

Please wish The Wife a speedy recovery, as she seems to be the last one to shake the vomit-bug.

Captain of My Own Ship?

2007-12-21T19:45:00.000-08:00

Sadly, no.

I want to adopt. I've waited for this privilege for over a year, and it seems no closer.

I wanted to foster kids (probably teens). I'm now fostering one mom and her kid plus one teen, with one mom with her whole entirely different kid waiting in the wings. Actually, not really waiting in the wings so much as already moved in and waiting for the paperwork to go through or for us to kick her out. Yes, it looks like we may very well be fostering "Melanie" and her child.

I was in charge of a project at work, but now it looks like I'm taking over another guy's project so he can focus on yet another project.

I want to have a relaxing Christmas. Mom and Dad are coming, however, so I'll probably be working on the basement.

I want to go ice fishing. I have no ice fishing house.

I want to go snowmobiling. I have no snowmobile.

Sigh. Guess I'm just along for the ride. Luckily, it's a pretty entertaining ride. Yes, I still love my life. I just wish it would let me live it a little more sometimes.

New Stuff With "Celeste"

2007-12-18T20:59:00.000-08:00

Well, stuff has been happening. "Celeste" is our current project, and what a project she is.

The timeline on Sunday, as best I can remember:

up until around 8:00: Spent time with Mom & Dad. Finished the downstairs bedroom with dad...it's really cool.

around 8: The Wife let "Celeste" go for a walk. She claimed she wanted to go to a place she knew that she could "think". Yes, I know, that should have been our first clue...but she promised she'd be back by 9.

9:15: Call the cops. We'd had enough. Enough of her jerking us around, enough of being the stupid ones. The Wife is majorly sick. I go in to sign the papers to designate "Celeste" as an official runaway.

9:30: Talk to the actual cop on the case. A nice guy...not sure if he's the one in our church, but we'll find out. He promised to find her.

10:00: I'm in the cop shop signing papers I've filled out. I GUESS she's 5'4...what do I know? She's my girl. I don't care beyond that and the fact that I miss her already.

11:00 They found her. As it turns out, she had been at a friend's house, and left when the heat came one (promptly, thanks to us). The K-9 unit found her freezing to death in a slough near her friends' house.

12:00 The Girl agrees to my terms. She comes home with me and goes directly to bed. Do not pass Go, do not collect so much as a dime. She's off the internet permanently. We love her, but will not stand by while she destroys herself. SHE AGREES. She still has some love for herself, apparently. We, perhaps stupidly, agree.

As it has come out over the last couple of days, she and The Wife have been subpoenaed to appear in court over the statutory rape case that I believe I have described before. "Celeste" is absolutely PETRIFIED to testify. And that is why she has caused the problems recently (including self-piercing her lip, thenkyewveddymuch). At least we know why all this is happening. We've been ready to cut bait until we found out what's really been driving her behavior.

So. I love this girl. So does The Wife. And yet, we have mutually decided that we can't live with her if her recent behavior is going to be the norm. Yet, we further learn that she has pretty decent reason to act out. So do we forgive and forget? Or do we kick her out on general principles?

No. We can't kick her out. And yet, we can't just let the gross displays of disrespect go unnoticed. So...she will no longer have the luxury of the internet. She will no longer have the luxury of attending the church youth group, which we know she's been skipping anyway. She WILL have our attenion. She's a smart girl. I intend on teaching her chess...and she will play me, and hopefully learn how to beat me. She probably will, if she doesn't end up in a residential facility. Because she's a smart girl, because I love her, and because I've decided that Chess is her vehicle to sanity.

Lots More Stuff

2007-12-13T18:39:00.000-08:00

Hmmm...

1) We had the lady and her daughter stay for a couple of days this week as a trial run. She's fairly easy to have around, and her daughter is a doll. There are several things they didn't warn us about with this situation...what situation have they ever told us the complete truth about in advance...but we may be able to work with this one. If she decides to come back.

2) I lost one of my favorite uncles this week. I have tomorrow off to go to the cities for the funeral. I have a lot of memories of this man...he is my father's brother, and the two of them are probably the finest men I've ever known. Sadly, in recent years my uncle has been in decline, suffering from severe Alzheimer's disease. It's actually a mercy that it's over.

I do remember one time in particular, when he and my dad took me to a Twins game, when I was maybe 9 or 10. My uncle stuffed me full of junk food from the vendors. He had an extra ticket, and told me I could sell it if I could find a buyer. Tickets were $6 in those days. I actually found a guy to buy it for $5, which also went straight into my belly. I probably gained 5 pounds that day.

3) "Celeste" is due to get out of the tank tomorrow and come back home. We received another detention notice from school she hadn't warned us about from before she left, and also a court summons because she was caught with smokes in school. This girl needs to go to the day treatment school that "Josie" and "Tammy" went to. They would REALLY help whip her into shape. The two counselors from the day treatment school, The Wife, the PATH social worker, and everybody else seems to agree. However, the county worker who needs to sign off on the idea is nowhere to be found. Color me unsurprised.

4) "Zach" has become a permanent member of the household. He's a real sweetie...but needs to get rid of some puppy stuff. Like tearing apart the door to the basement, and jumping up into everybody's lap. Also he has kleenex issues. Like he wants to eat any he finds. Not good. But VERY good dog. He was badly abused as a puppy according to the Humane Society, but he has a really sweet disposition. He deserved a forever home, and now he's got one. God is good sometimes.

5) I'm tired, and I'm going to watch football now. Sorry for the lack of writing...but you get what you pay for.

Lots o' Stuff

2007-12-07T19:41:00.000-08:00

The reason I haven't been writing isn't because of a lack of material, but because of a surplus. I can't do everything justice in the mood I'm in tonight, but in no particular order:

1) We had to put Chewy down. As I've mentioned before, he has always been in bad health since we got him, and it finally got to be too much for us to sit and watch. It was a choice between putting him down or spending God knows how many dollars to try to set it right with no idea if it would even do any good. We made a choice. Hope it was the right one.

2) I'm sitting here tonight getting to know a new dog, currently named Zach (not sure if we'll rename him or not yet). He's a smaller, drool-free variant (as per The Wife's wishes). He's a medium-sized black lab, very sweet temperament, he has one brown eye and one very light blue, and I've got him from the Humane Society for a weekend trial run. So far so good...with only one leg-lifting episode, my very sudden and loud response to which I think made its intended impression.

3) "Celeste" was on "home leave" last weekend. She took the liberty of bringing some kind of pills back with her. "Tammy" was set to stay Tuesday and Wednesday nights, and the two of them got together and decided it would be just peachy keen to down a bunch of pills each. "Celeste" didn't even know what the pills were. Sigh. Off to the hospital, where peeing in a cup became an issue for "Celeste". I had had enough. Let's just say I convinced her to pee in the damned cup so we could go home. Nobody harmed, but "Celeste" is now in psych eval in another city. The Wife made sure she understood that we wanted her back...but not until she had been evaluated. We THINK she may understand now that there's something wrong. Time will tell...but we are child-free for the moment. The Wife is also in the city where "Celeste" is in right now, and will not be back until tomorrow or the next day.

4) We have a new potential placement....but not the usual. This one is a 24-year-old mother and her baby. The Mom has a depressed IQ (she's slow), and it's potentially our job to evaluate her, help her learn how to be a mom, and generally just to try to make this little mini-family functional. Don't know anything about them except their names, their ages, and the fact that the mom insists on being able to smoke. We, of course, will allow no smoking in the house, but we're amenable to her smoking outside so long as she disposes of her butts appropriately. The Wife is scheduled to drive an ungodly number of miles next week arranging all this and seeing if it's even doable for us and them. More later on that.

5) Work sucks. Okay, not really, but this week sucked. It is SO nice to have this little break where I have the house and the animals to myself. Please excuse me while I go soak in some genuine puppy love.

Incident Witnessed and Compared to Life

2007-11-26T19:34:00.000-08:00

The small, tiger-striped kitten explored the house. He had lived there for awhile, but he still found wonderful things to play with everywhere he looked. The humans seemed to have an aneurysm when he climbed up on those wide ledges in by the food box and water spewer...and they didn't have much of a sense of humor about his climbing practice on the brand new funny-smelling tree in the living room, but they didn't seem to mind when he found something on the floor.

And here was a nice-smelling little piece of chocolate human-kibble on the floor. He loved these things. You could bat them with a paw and they skitter right across the whole room, and of course it must then be immediately chased and batted again before it could stop. Bat. Chase. Bat. Chase. Whew. Time to relax and consider things again.

As the kitten idly batted the piece of Count Chocula an inch here and an inch there, Willy walked in, sized up the situation, slurped up the human-kibble and then went to the watching human to collect some petting. The kitten sat where he was, puzzled as to where his toy went.

This is a little like how I've felt about the adoption thing. They tease us with possibilities, and so we chase and bat, and chase and bat. And then some other couple comes in and chomps up our piece of kibble.

Of course, it's not so much like our current befuddlement. In this case, they've known for over two weeks that the baby needs to be adopted. The baby is now a month old, and we've heard exactly zero, except that they confirmed that they received our home study when we badgered them about it. Our system is badly broken, ladies and gentlemen, and some days it feels like it's breaking my spirit right along with it.

Will we be able to adopt this child before we have to start worrying about college tuition? Stay tuned.

Interesting Possibilities

2007-11-19T20:56:00.000-08:00

I may have mentioned before that we have a local youth group called Youth For Christ (YFC). We tend to try to funnel our kids to this organization, not because we're trying to stuff our religion down their throats (though religion would do some of them, including "Celeste", a world of good) but mostly because the guy that runs that outfit is OUT OF THIS WORLD GREAT. He has a way with kids that just won't quit. I admire that, and I envy his touch.

But in this case, it's one of the other kids that provides some interesting possibilities for friendship with "Celeste". This girl is one of the older kids in YFC, and she has a pretty special bond with the guy that runs it. She comes from a VERY broken home, and he's a sort of surrogate father to her. It's wonderful to see them together.

Tonight this girl was having a very tough time and "Celeste" and only a couple of others happened to be there this time. They all talked out her issues and "Celeste" got to be in the position to feel some empathy for someone else who was having trouble with a sucky family situation.

From the time I picked her up she couldn't stop talking about how bad this girl had it. It didn't take a genius to read between the lines of her babbling and see that she had compared this girl's problems to her own and found them equivalent, if not tilted in her favor. Someone else actually might really have it worse than her. Oh sure, those pesky foster parents have told her that several times, but what do they know? Heh. It makes a much bigger impact getting it straight from the horse's mouth.

Anyway, the girl has been on better behavior again the last few days, hence my lack of writing. She readily, if not happily, went to church AND to a special service where there was a pie social afterward. She spoke with her counselor and said she wasn't going to go to school. The counselor told her that was fine, but he would have no choice but to make sure she ended up in court over it. She decided she had had enough of court, and maybe school wasn't so bad after all.

I get the feeling that we've got her fairly well settled in now, and we just need to play good, tight goalie until she stops taking so many pot shots to test our defenses. At that point, we may have created an actual human being, with feelings and everything. Okay, maybe we will just have helped her bring out her better self, but you know what I mean.

Now if the courts will just let us have enough time for that to happen...

Poor Attempt at a Dirt Nap

2007-11-15T17:45:00.000-08:00

"Celeste" took it upon herself last night, when The Wife wasn't looking, to sneak into our bathroom and take a bunch of her pills. She then downed them, according to her, at around 9 last night. Of course, these pills were all-natural melatonin, but still it's pretty alarming. Lucky thing that "Celeste" is a moron, I'd say.

And it was hugely inconvenient...The Wife had to take the day off from work (she only works Thursdays at that job to begin with) and sit in the hospital while they grilled her to try to figure out if she was serious or not. Apparently they determined not, because she's back here tonight. I've decided to take a hands-off approach for this one. She'll talk to me if she wants to, but I know she's been through the wringer today and I don't feel like exacerbating anything. She's just plain been difficult lately and I'm in a funk of my own tonight. I just keep staring out the window or distractedly surfing web pages, looking for nothing in particular. I hate moods like this.

I'm not too worried about the girl, though. The pros seem to think she's alright, and I think if she had really meant it, she would have succeeded. She can be a dipstick, but she's not entirely stupid. Neither are we, which is why it would be really difficult to actually die from any of the medicines we have in the house in the quantities that we have them in. One of the downsides of providing foster care is that you don't really have the option of developing a nice bathroom pharmacy.

Whatever. I'm gonna mess around on the computer a little more and hit the rack early tonight. One more day left in the week. Wish me luck.

Babies Are Neat Toys

2007-11-14T19:25:00.000-08:00

"Melanie" came over today and brought her new little munchkin with her. She has announced to us that she would like us to be his godparents, which honors us greatly. What would honor me more is if she would entrust me with his football education. I asked if he could come over sunday and watch the game.

I also wanted to start showing him a good three point stance and teach him the proper way to hold for a kicker (laces out)...but my inner coach advised me that it might be better to wait until he can hold his own head up before moving on to those more advanced concepts. I settled for feeding him, attempting-but-failing to burp him, singing him "Dream On" (kids love the Oakridge Boys) and describing for him only the most basic tenets of the West Coast Offense. The difficult stuff can come later.

Did anybody besides me ever notice that babies sometimes resemble space aliens? Seriously, when a newborn is about to start crying, they sort of fold their face in half. It reminds me of the sea monsters in the Sigmund the Sea Monster series when I was a kid. And their gums sort of look like pink mouth-ridges of a type I once saw in the Star Trek bar.

And what's with this whole "watch out for his soft spot" stuff? For the uninitiated, they are, of course, speaking of the part of the skull where the bones have not yet fused his melon toghether completely. My theory is that a good brain massage would stimulate learning later in life. Strangely, "Melanie" didn't want me to test my theory on her child. Hmmm.

Anyway, we (the child and I) came to several crucial agreements that will enable us to coexist in the overwhelmingly likely scenario where I have to take care of him, probably staring this weekend ("Melanie" has pleaded with us to take him overnight this weekend so she can get some sleep...girl's not in football shape yet apparently):

1) He is in charge of spitting up. I am in charge of cleaning it up.
2) He is in charge of filling diapers. I am in charge of changing them.
3) He is in charge of eating. I am in charge of feeding both our faces.
4) He is in charge of sleeping. I am in charge of watching him sleep.
5) He does what he wants. I stay out of his way.

I suspect I may not have been in top negotiating form this evening. Doesn't matter. I'll probably have more fun than him anyway.

Intensity

2007-11-13T18:03:00.000-08:00

I've had small irritations building up lately with "Celeste", and I made the mistake of not venting them a bit at a time. What happens when you buy a 12-pack of soda while on a long road trip, and then start drinking cans one after the other? Sooner or later, my friend, you WILL be making a pit stop. Tonight was that pit stop for me.

I was in a mildly pissy mood when I got home. I was able to be pleasant to The Wife and greeted "Celeste" and the dogs as usual, but my mind was working through some unresolved problems from work and I was a little distracted. UNTIL..."Celeste" started in on one of her patented never-ending strings of negativity. She decided she didn't like dogs anymore, even Willy. She asked The Wife what was for supper, and when she was told that it was wild rice and turkey soup and that carrots had been withheld to cater to her taste, she LOUDLY pronounced it "gross" and started to put together a sandwich. Everything that was mentioned was "stupid". Blah blah blah.

Finally I had had it, and this little irritated mood of mine rapidly blossomed into something like controlled rage. I started in on her, telling her in no uncertain terms that this was going to stop. Not just tonight, but every night for the rest of her time here. She would treat us with respect, and if she couldn't be grateful to The Wife for the incredible amount she does for her, she would at least be civil. Or she would be sorry.

And I'm not just blowing smoke here, either. No, I'm not going to hit her, or starve her, or anything like that. But I will get in her face from now on every time she cusses and every time she gets negative. She claimed loudly that she was "hardly ever" negative. Well, now I'm just going to do her the favor of pointing out every single negative thing she says. Heh. The honeymoon is over and the gloves are now officially unlaced, if not off. Mom has been saying for some time that we put up with too much from her, and it took me a little longer but I'm right with her now. Never thought I'd see myself on the same side of a parenting question as Mom, but hey, men went to the moon too, am I right?

Anyway, as the discussion progressed and I warmed up, I began to improv and branch out. I riffed on the fact that she feels compelled to write stupid crap on her clothes. I pointed out that while she may or may not be gay, bi, straight or autoerotic for all anybody knows or cares, she doesn't need to make a huge public production of it. She may feel the need to do so, but then she has to accept that with that decision comes consequences, especially when you live in a basically conservative small town. Fair? Maybe not. So what? Them's the facts. I've got Cystic Fibrosis. Not fair. Didn't do anything to deserve it. So what? Them's the facts.

She went in circles in her logic and I gleefully followed right on her tail, pointing out her inconsistencies and how she had a habit of saying something in one breath and then two breaths later directly contradicting herself. Oh, I love this stuff. I used to be a political blogger, you know, and what is political blogging if not indulging in childish gotcha games? Yeehaw.

There was a lot of back-and-forth, and I was actually fairly proud of the way I stayed controlled yet firm through most of it. I had to keep reeling her back in as she kept starting to yell and go off on tangents...and I don't know whether it was on purpose to distract from the gaping holes in her arguments or just a result of confusion from having me confront her so directly.

It doesn't really matter, of course. It was a useful exercise/example for her in how to be angry at each other and have a, uh, "spirited discussion", and then walk away from it without any particularly hard feelings.

She also said some pretty revealing things. She outright admitted, as she has other times, that she won't let anybody get close enough to her to hurt her badly. I asked her why she thought The Wife or I would hurt her, and she didn't answer. She can never answer that one. I think she knows we would never hurt her, and she's just scared. I don't blame her...I probably would be too, having the parents she's got.

The Wife had her own interjections from time to time, but a lot of it was just "Celeste" and me , um, "exchanging information". The Wife was most definitely the good cop to my bad cop this time around.

Finally I just had to repeat myself until she ran out of breath and had to hear me tell her that no matter what she did, how she felt about it, we care about her. Nothing she can do about it. She REALLY doesn't like to hear that, which is why I've said it to her several times over the months she's been here. One of these times one of us (or both) are going to break through this tough-kid exterior. I think we probably already would have made significant progress in that direction except that the social workers are dead-set on getting her back with her family. Her knowing that she could be yanked out of here at any time no matter what we do or want is probably the biggest obstacle to us getting any kind of bond with this girl. And we're so close it almost hurts sometimes.

The best part, and the reason I know she's not still too mad at me, is that awhile ago she got off the internet within 2 minutes of the first time I reminded her that her time was about up.

All your teenagers are belong to us. Mheh.

Oh, and not word on The Wife's job prospect. She felt like she had screwed the pooch on the interview, but here's the thing: she interviewed with three people (all at the same time, if I understood correctly). One of them just so happens to be a foster parent in town that we know very well, whose house we've eaten at regularly and who already knows what The Wife is like. A second one is one of the people at the school that we've had dealings with due to him working with some of our former foster kids (like "Jenny" and "Josie", I believe). He also has a pretty good feel for who she is and her history. The third was the superintendent, and I think it was this one that made her nervous.

She called after the interview and expressed to our fellow foster mom that she hadn't felt well and didn't feel she'd done her best on the interview, but was told that she thought she did fine. She also mentioned that apparently there were a couple of other interviews that didn't go so well, which bodes well for The Wife's chances. However, it sounded as though there were about 10 applicants, so there is some competition. After hearing the salary, hours, and knowing what benefits are like for government jobs, I can see why. This job could be a HUGE boost to our household income, which wouldn't make me cry.

And now, the Zulus and Spanish have joined forces and declared war on my one flank and the Russians need a hard lesson on the other flank, and I've JUST ABOUT discovered computers so I can build the Seti Program, which should get me to building my spaceship to go to Alpha Centauri in another 50 years or so.

Did I mention I'm a nut for playing Civilization II?

Lovers' Vignette

2007-11-12T19:48:00.000-08:00

I step out of work, anxious to get home to my loving wife and my parents, who are dropping through town and will be staying for dinner. I always enjoy the show when Mom and "Celeste" lock horns. Dad is helping out with a couple of little projects in the house, and I thought he might need me to pick something up from Menard's or something. I reach for the trusty cell.

beep boop bop bep boop beep beep

[ring....ring....ring....click]

The Wife: Hi, handsome.

Me: Hi, lady. Does dad need me to pick anything up from the store?

The Wife: I [BRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPP!!!!!!!]...oh. EXCUSE me.

She may have said more while I was laughing, I'm not really sure.

I love my life.

Trouble in Paradise

2007-11-11T21:00:00.001-08:00

It was just one of those days. "Celeste" was being a pill almost the entire day. She was disturbed that we had web sites on "alternative sexuality" blocked. I believe I've mentioned that she's very adamantly in the face of everybody she knows for more than 5 minutes that she's bisexual. We feel that at 13, nobody should be much of anything sexual. What ever happened to sneaking a kiss in a private place when nobody is looking? Today, kids at 13 are trying to swing 10-year-olds over to their view of sexuality. Call me a prude if you must, but this is all just wrong.

I mean, at 13 I hadn't even had my first real kiss. Sure, I was a dork and it wasn't for lack of me wanting to, but at the same time I distinctly remember that the first time I ever really considered the real possibility of having sex, I was 16 or 17. "Celeste" is 13, and probably has more experience than I do. Not only do we need to dial that back, but we need to get her to focus on other more important aspects of life. Indulging her sexual urges is NOT the way for her to start feeling better about herself, or for her to learn how to reconcile with her family, or for her to start learning how to live as an actual adult. At this point in her life, I'd say having sex (of any kind) ranks somewhere between freebasing drain cleaner and seeing what happens when she lights her hair on fire.

So am I apologetic about stealing sources of sexual inspiration from her? No freaking way. Oh, she tries to guilt me into it by pointing out that I get to use the internet whenever I want. I usually counter that I also use the internet mostly to write, read blogs/news or to feed my admittedly sad and pathetic fantasy football addiction, and most emphatically not to visit vampirefreaks.com or sexwithcamelsandothermiscellaneousmammals.com. Okay, I made the latter one up, but the former is actually a site she likes to visit. Sigh.

Then, Sophie decided she'd had enough of my parents' cat. And she meant it. So we have crap in our tub, crap and pee on various carpets (they've all been picked up now to avoid her wrath), plus The Wife has scratches, several deep ones, on her arms. Luckily, Mom & Dad are back now and will be picking him up soon. Hopefully things will be a little saner when they go again this winter...or poor Sammy may end up locked in the downstairs bedroom to save our cats' sanity.

Speaking of The Wife, she also has a pretty important interview in the morning for a job she really, really wants, so if you could send prayers and good thoughts her way, I'm sure she'd appreciate it. She's a little nervous about taking a job since it may limit future options in fostering (we've gotten a couple of placements specifically because she was a stay-at-home mom), but to me that's letting the tail wag the dog. First priority should be doing things that make her happy and fulfilled. Second should be doing what she (and I) can to help these kids. Otherwise, she'd just burn out or feel like she was in prison. That's no way to live. So go wife!! Knock 'em dead!

Hopefully they'll offer her six figures so I can retire and spend my days fishing.

Hey, a guy can dream, right?

Saturday Morning Interlude

2007-11-10T11:27:00.000-08:00

It's Saturday morning, and The Wife is happily asleep in her Sleep-Number bed, dialed into that perfect combination of cushiness and firmness. She's not been feeling well for a day or so, and her body welcomes the extra sleep. She's been sleeping well all night, except that she had a hard time initially falling asleep because, as is often the case, hubby was late coming to bed. Finally she just turned off the light. "Let the dirtbag stay up as long as he wants...I'm sleeping" she thinks groggily before spiraling down into her slumber.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Damn alarm. Can't they make alarm clocks that can tell when it's Saturday and just shut the hell up?

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

She opens one eye a slit and sees the dark mound on the other side of the bed that is her husband, and decides to wait until he climbs his way out of his dream to shut it off. It takes him a minute sometimes...

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Okay, it's Saturday. She decides she shouldn't have to put up with this crap.

"Honey, shut off the alarm."

No response except a slight shift on the other side of the bed.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

"Honey, WAKE UP. Shut it off."

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

She reaches over to give her husband-lump a shake-nudge. He needs that sometimes. Suddenly a tongue reaches out of the lump and slides along her hand. The shape shifts, she feels fur on her wrist and two eyes shine out of the dark at her. She suddenly understood why her husband wasn't shutting off the alarm.

I'm writing a lot of this out of my imagination, because I had fallen asleep in my chair in the living room and didn't get into bed until about an hour after it all happened. But Willy was right there to say good morning to The Wife the minute she woke up. Dogs are great like that.

If I Were a New Mom...

2007-11-09T19:43:00.001-08:00

I'd probably write like this. Or at least try.

Seriously, folks, I stopped reading blogs--or at least foster/adopt/parenting blogs--very much awhile back. The depression kept creeping in over the fact that there are thousands of new babies up for adoption every week in the United States and in OVER A YEAR OF WAITING not one person out there in the entire country thinks we are an appropriate choice to love and raise a single one of them. I know that they know about us, too. You know how I know? Because we paid THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS in advertising costs. The best part is that if we don't have a hit before the middle of next September (I think), we have the choice of either giving it up or paying a pro-rated fee monthly until we either decide to give up or get a hit. Or I guess we could go to a different agency and give THEM 10 or 20 grand to give it a shot with no guarantees. Sigh.

Anyway, I just started reading my own genre again recently. There are some EXCELLENT new contenders out there. Which is good on an evening when you don't have much to say yourself.

Hmmmm...

2007-11-09T19:31:00.000-08:00

Haven't added anything to my sidebar for a long time...I just found this blog, which appears to be pretty cool to me. Up it goes! Give it a look. They're putting all their money into a new house that needs lots of stuff they can't afford. Sounds familiar...OH YEAH. It really is a time warp, and that's us 3 1/2 years ago.

Don't worry, Susan. You'll be fine. After you've spent a bunch of money you don't have to furnish the place, work your tail off because you've got more time than money, and basically run yourself ragged for a few years, you'll be all caught up to my state of mind.

Bribery

2007-11-08T19:55:00.000-08:00

I have observed "Celeste" in her natural habitat for some time now. I think I understand as well as most what her motivations and desires are. And my own humble opinion is that, of the things I can actually give her, cash ranks right up there.

How convenient. I have a few dollars burning a hole in my pocket. And The Wife attended parent-teacher conferences tonight, learning that while "Celeste" got Bs almost across the board (a couple of B-s and B+s in there) they feel she is certainly capable of As.

Now, I try not to push kids for better scholastic performance than they can do. If a kid just isn't more than a C student, I'm down with that...but I'm also going to torment them until they damn well get their grades up to Cs and keep them there.

I decided shortly after I met "Celeste" that she was probably a thinly-disguised A student, and now we have documentary proof that the pros agree. But how to get her to feel the need to live up to her potential? I've found that nothing works on most kids better than bribery, and with "Celeste" it's a sure thing.

She painted most of a deck for a fairly cheap MP3 player, and did a pretty passable job on most of it. I told her that if she got the grades for her core courses (Math, Science, English and Social Studies) up to As while keeping her other grades at at least Bs, she would receive $10 for each A.

True to her character, she thought about it and then grumped: "I suppose this means I have to start doing things."

Yes, "Celeste." Yes, you do. But in about 5 to 10 years, you'll understand that it's not for me, The Wife, or anybody else except for you. November Fool. You think you're doing it for me because I've got some "stupid hangup" on your grades. My hangup isn't on your grades, it's on your education. And your character. You're plenty smart, but you need work in those two areas, and if I had a better idea to get you motivated, I'd use it.

I don't. So do you take plastic?

It's Time

2007-11-07T19:10:00.000-08:00

We have a lead on another adoption, and I think it's getting to be time for something to break our way. I'm starting to have doubts about our profile, our abilities as foster parents, and basically just myself in general. Yes, I know sometimes it takes time. Yes, I know I need to keep my chin up and not get discouraged. That doesn't mean I can actually do those things, though.

This one is a little girl who was born just a week or two ago, and she's actually in our state. We sent an email inquiring about her, and they had us send our home study by snail mail. Yeck. Anyway, they should have gotten that either today or tomorrow...then I guess we'll see. If any readers have any idea how these things work in MN, it would be nice if you could give us an idea of what sort of time frame we should expect in this situation. The baby is already born, and it sounds like she looks healthy so far but both parents are alcohol/drug users and who knows what sort of issues she might have when she's older. It sounds like we might be able to get an assisted adoption with it, too, which would be way cool.

Anyway, I've been talking to God a lot lately at odd times...in the car on the way to and from work, while I'm eating lunch, while I'm sitting looking out the window in the evening. I'm trying to, as they told us in AA, get some serenity about my situation. I'm not a spring chicken by normal standards, and by the standards of CF patients I'm practically Methuselah (and my sister is probably Methuselah's mom). I have high school classmates who are grandparents. Do I get a turn here, too, or what?

The Wife needs this to happen soon, too. She's been poring over lists of baby names. It has to have a good meaning, preferably be biblical, and flow nicely with our last name and one of several middle names that she seems to have settled on for a girl or my Dad's name as the middle name for a boy. Today she called me at work to ask me what I thought about her latest brainstorm: Pocahontas. I shit you not. "We could call her 'Pokie' for short!" This needs to happen soon. Truly.

"Melanie" Explodes

2007-11-04T07:35:00.000-08:00

Shortly after her shower yesterday, from what I understand, "Melanie" decided to take a nap. She awoke realizing the The Time Had Come. We received a call last night that she had gone into labor and was at the hospital. We finished up our pay-per-view movie and headed out to join her.

I became extremely fatigued by around 1:30 and, as I wasn't really all that eager to be in the delivery room during the actual moment and all that, I headed home for some shuteye. The Wife stayed till the bitter end, and witnessed her explosion and resulting healthy male, 7-pound-something-or-other shrapnel.

So I guess we timed the shower pretty well, eh?

As an aside, to my surprise, the boyfriend/sperm donor was actually there last night. Lest you get the idea that he had developed some honor, I should report a direct quote I overheard while he was talking to "Melanie's" sister and cousin: "hey, I'm just here to give her moral support." Way to go, champ. I'm sure you'll make a great dad. What a punk. The Honorable Order of Men should call a special meeting and hold a vote to revoke this little moron's penis license.

Gender Archaeology

2007-11-03T13:39:00.000-07:00

I'm now reporting to you deep from within the normally female-only ritual known as the "baby shower". I had originally retreated to the basement to wait out the storm, but curiosity overwhelmed my better sense and I went upstairs to see what could be seen. Strangely enough, the participants did not scratch my eyes out or condemn me as an outsider, so I've stayed to see if MANkind could gain knowledge by my intrepid exploration.

The first thing I note is that this all seems very much like a birthday party, complete with cake (candle-free bars actually, but whatever), other goodies, a pile of presents and an arrangement of chairs in a circle filled with ~~clucking hens~~ gabbing ladies. The presents have actually been opened at this point, and they're pretty dang boring by my standards.

How can an event involving presents be fun if it's all baby stuff? A relief, perhaps, to a young father whose wife is the guest of honor. It's that much less stuff you'll have to fork over perfectly good cash for, and young fathers in their early 20s or whatever would have to be tickled about the thing.

Not me. I'd rather people just bought us a subscription to Sunday NFL Ticket, or maybe buy us a boat. But then, I don't think that's the price range we're talking about here, so whatever.

The natives here seem much friendlier than I had supposed they would be toward an interloper such as myself. They almost seem to like the fact that I showed up. Hmmm. You know, it just might be that the only reason no man has ever set foot in a baby shower is because, from a man's point of view, it's just really boring.

Interesting thought. I'll have to develop that one further...but for now I have to take advantage of my status as welcome male in an almost exclusively female setting to go back to the table and get some more cheese and crackers. Mmmmm. Cheese and crackers.

I think I'm becoming more metrosexual by the minute. If you don't hear from me in the next few days, please send rescuers in a pickup with beer, cigars and other manly stuff to save me.

Naivete: Good or Bad?

2007-11-03T06:38:00.000-07:00

In my opinion, naivete is a very useful and desirable trait in many, many cases. If you get into a political discussion and put forth an idealistic policy proposal from either the left or the right perspective, you'll almost certainly be treated to the snide comment from your opponent: "don't be naive". This is usually delivered with rolled eyes and an optional heaving sigh.

Why is naivete such a dirty word? What's wrong with it? From webster.com:

Main Entry:
na·ive
Variant(s):
or na·ïve
Function:
adjective
Inflected Form(s):
na·iv·er; na·iv·est
Etymology:
French naïve, feminine of naïf, from Old French, inborn, natural, from Latin nativus native
Date:
1654

1: marked by unaffected simplicity : artless, ingenuous2 a: deficient in worldly wisdom or informed judgment; especially : credulous b: not previously subjected to experimentation or a particular experimental situation naive rats>; also : not having previously used a particular drug (as marijuana) c: not having been exposed previously to an antigen <naive T cells>3 a: self-taught, primitive b: produced by or as if by a self-taught artist <naive murals>
synonyms see natural

Depending on the situation, I guess naivete really isn't such a bad thing in most cases. When I think of naivete, I usually think of definition 1. Unaffected. Simple. Artless. Ingenuous. Yes. Not difficult to understand, not mucked up with a bunch of "sophisticated" stuff. Just straightforward attitude and behavior. This is how I like my politics. And this is essential for effective fostering. A kid who has been abused or been around other behaviors is usually not very naive. They've been around the block, often several times too many. They've also usually got finely tuned bullshit detectors and know how to spot "sophisticated" adults a mile away and usually how to defeat their sophistication as well.

An adult (or even sometimes a kid) that is or acts truly naive, though, usually presents more of a challenge for them. At first, their reaction is probably going to be one more of scorn, much like any political proposal presented to a conservative that is touted as being "for the children" or "for the poor". But most of these kids are smart. They may put up a scornful front, but they'll analyze the adult in their own good time and come to a private conclusion, just like a canny politician. If an adult (or a policy proposal) seems to have good underlying merit, often that initial scorn will replaced with wary acceptance on a trial basis.

And that's what we're after in fostering, isn't it? If you can just pry up the edge of that armor, it's a chance to prove that no, you are not in fact going to stick a shiv into his/her guts as soon as you get the chance. You're different than many of the other adults they've had to deal with in their lives, and you honestly, truly want to help them however you can.

Me personally? I'm more likely to scorn people who are desperate to prove that meaning 2b doesn't apply to them. They don't want to be "deficient in worldly wisdom". Well, worldly wisdom is highly overrated, if you ask me. In my view, "worldly wisdom" is one of the primary reasons there is even a foster system to begin with. Give me meaning 1 any day.

I have an aunt who comes off (at least to me) as one of the most naive people I know. She's lived in the same tiny town her whole life, doesn't get out much, to my knowledge hasn't traveled much, and her concerns are almost exclusively related to her family's, her community's and her own well-being. She is a favorite of all of our mutual acquaintances. I, who have traveled all over the US on business and pleasure and lived in The Big City for years, am not necessarily one of their favorites.

I think she's on to something...at least as far as personal happiness and genuine popularity are concerned. And really, when all the artifice and affectation is stripped away, aren't personal happiness and genuine popularity for who you really are at your core a couple of really great things?

Another Submission

2007-11-02T21:06:00.001-07:00

Okay, I recently had a story accepted for publication in a new regional magazine, which is cool. Of course...when somebody encourages behavior that behavior is likely to be repeated. I've submitted the following to the same editor. She had commented that she was looking for shorter stories, so I tried to crop this one a bit:

A little over a year go I had to have my best friend Beau put to sleep. He was a monstrous hound tipping the scale at 160+ pounds in his prime, and had a wonderful coat the color of a deer. I miss him terribly, but there were things I don't miss so much...like the fact that he was occasionally dumber than dirt.

The day I brought Beau home it was a bit of a surprise even to me. I had decided I wanted a big dog--perhaps something like a Great Dane--and called a few animal shelters to see what they had. One said they had a very big boy that might be a Great Dane cross, but they weren't really certain. Good. I like surprises.

I fell in love with "Rex" instantly, and after a short walk and get-acquainted session I announced to my wife that this would be my dog. Being as soft in the head as I am about these things herself, she didn't bat an eye. "Rex" became "Beauregard" as he jumped into the car, and home we went.

Upon arriving home, my wife stayed in the garage with our new friend to straighten some things up while I went outside to help my father-in-law, who was doing something in the yard. Suddenly we heard a remarkably loud scream, followed by what sounded like something crashing in the garage. I ran to see what was the matter. Suddenly the walk-in garage door was forcefully pushed open and out slunk a lumbering--and very guilty-looking--Beau. He stepped across the yard to the fence, where he turned around and sat, apparently immediately forgetting whatever had happened as he broke into a huge, dopey doggie grin..

I noticed that he had something black or brown all over his feet and on one flank. I turned to the garage again. There stood my wife, covered in oil. I should admit at this point that I change the oil in the cars myself, and sometimes I forget to empty the oil pan into a jug. Beau had walked by the pan, seen 4 quarts of oil sitting there, and for reasons known only to him it made sense to grab the pan in his teeth and fling it in the air. It hit my wife and then the wall, dousing both in oil. Maybe he was celebrating his new home.

A dog nearly died at the hands of a crazed woman that day, but I'm happy to report that he eventually found redemption through being the best dog anybody could hope to know, and spent the rest of his life proving that his first day with us was simply a bad first impression.

It's a great story (I think the long form is better, but requirements are what they are). The fact that it's true: frosting on the cake. The fact that the wife mentioned in the story is my ex: priceless.

Quick "Celeste" update: she went on a "date" Halloween night. So of course, now she has a boyfriend. It's a pity, really. She has the kid's poor dad thinking she's a really, really great girl. Which, of course she is...but not at all the kind of great girl--or at least not in the ways--that he thinks. She has ascertained that the boy is a virgin, and I'm pretty sure she's got her cap set to do something about that.

Now I'm just wondering if I should be warning the Dad. Probably so...but it's just so weird. Usually you're worried that the BOY will seduce the GIRL. Or does that make me a sexist? Probably. So what? So I care about the girl and her effect on the boys she sees, and I'm a little shocked and dismayed that she's promiscuous to the point where even gender isn't a barrier (I worry about her being with girls too, for good reasons). Sue me, call me old fashioned, whatever. Just don't cut off my spaghetti and football on Sundays.

"Melanie" is pretty huge with child these days, and is due any time. We took her to town tonight and bought her dinner and The Wife took her shopping. I think she has adopted The Wife as a semi-official mother/big sister figure, and that seems good to me because she needs somebody like that. It will be hard enough being a mother at her age without a husband or even involved boyfriend, much less doing it completely alone.

Oh, and I'm banished to the basement with Sammy, my parents' cat (they are in Arizona for 2 weeks and he's staying with us) tomorrow. The Wife has organized a baby shower for "Melanie" upstairs, and I don't want to get messed over into all that girly stuff. I may have to go find some guys and smoke some cigars or do some other macho stuff later just to get it off me. How does anybody around here expect me to be a proper cave-dwelling Neanderthal with all this frilly crap happening? Argh.

I love my life.

Heh.

Meltdown for "Tammy"

2007-10-25T22:04:00.000-07:00

We had our share and support meeting tonight. When "Tammy" stayed with us this week, we noticed she was especially quiet and reserved, even for her. Now we understand a little more why.

Things have been going on in her life...things that we didn't know about. Nobody did outside her family, until she finally opened up in therapy and let her counselor know. I probably shouldn't get into details, except to say that it involves nastiness that was being done to her, and while her immediate family weren't the perps, at least a couple of them appear to have been aware that it was going on.

You see, "Tammy" is now sitting in detention for assaulting a police officer. The officer tried to push her to do something she really didn't want to do. "Tammy" is normally completely docile with us, but I've sensed a harder edge to her under the surface, and I studiously avoid it. It works out well. She loves us and we love her, and we can try to avoid the bad spots. That's what friends and family do. The cop apparently wasn't interested in being tuned into her mood, so he got punched, kicked and from what i hear pretty badly scratched for his trouble.

What she did was completely wrong, and I'd bet my computer she knows it very well. There's no excuse for what she did, and detention isn't the worst thing I can think of. That said, this girl needs help more than punishment. Her family is one of those hopeless ones, and while she loves her mother very much and her mother loves her, I don't think there's another member of that family she would really miss if she left for good.

I wish she could come here, full time, until she ages out. I could and almost do really love this girl like a daughter, and I know damn well that there would NEVER be any more nastiness in her life like she's had to live with. Not in a million years.

In the time since she's been with us off and on, we've heard comments about how people can tell when she's been with us awhile because she just seems to blossom after she's been at our house. I tell them that's her natural state. She just needs a little TLC and she becomes this whole, beautiful person. Then they make her go home and she withdraws again, her hair gets stringy, she doesn't bathe and she gets really apathetic and sleeps most of the time.

Sigh.

"Tammy" Busted

2007-10-24T17:14:00.000-07:00

"Tammy", who has been staying with us on and off, usually for a night or two every week or two for respite, apparently attacked a cop at school and is now a guest of the city or county government (not sure which).

She is actually a pretty interesting case, but I should say up front that while I don't necessarily doubt that she did it and I don't blame them for busting her for it, I am in no way afraid of this girl. If I had an infant, I'd still be perfectly comfortable with her in the house, and I'd probably even let her take care of the baby for a short while. She is no real danger to anybody but maybe herself, and she would NEVER do anything to harm The Wife or me or any of our family.

She sometimes has difficulty with authority figures. We don't really count because we don't lay down the law with her much. She hasn't ever really needed it, and we aren't big fans of the heavy-handed schools of fostering thought. Life is too short to get all nasty with people if you don't have to, ya know?

Anyway, I'll be interested to hear her side of things. I'll bet anything she got in one of her moods and the cop laid some kind of smartass remark on her, so she clocked him one. I can just see it happening.

I find myself hoping she ends up coming to stay on a more full-time basis for awhile. "Tammy" is my kind of chick, so laid back you wouldn't believe she was alive if her eyes weren't open. Always ready with a hug when I get home from work and very appreciative of meals, The Wife cleaning the house and suchlike. More kids could learn to be like her and the world would be a better place.

Ah, well.

"Josie" Update

2007-10-23T18:28:00.001-07:00

Ah, yes, "Josie" still exists in this world. Barely. Things have been going on with her, but she hasn't been back to see us for a LONG time. She has, however, managed to turn nearly everybody but us and her mother against her. The girl's pretty and fun, but she just ain't smart.

Let's see...I believe I mentioned at one point that "Melanie" went and got herself just a little bit preggers. Well, she found herself a man when she was a few months gone. Trouble is, "Josie" found her man, and they liked each other just a little too much. So much for "Melanie's" beau AND her friendship with "Josie". Last words I heard on the subject from "Mel" was "I don't care if she jumps up her own ass and dies". Ouch.

"Josie" ran away from her brother's where she was staying, got caught in a nearby town and got sent to a fairly distant town to foster care there, on the theory that she had crapped in her nest so badly here she needed a new start where nobody knew her.

She ran away from there a month or two later and eventually was caught in yet another of the towns around here. I'm pretty sure her picture is part of the training curriculum at all Minnesota police academies by now.

She is now a long-term guest at one of the juvenile holding tanks around here. I have no idea what that girl is going to do when she turns 18, but I know it won't be good. She's going to have such a hard landing when she discovers that yes, you can do what you want when you turn 18, but yes, you'll also then be fully and personally responsible for the stupid things you do.

It's very hard to see such a young, fun, good person trying with everything they've got to throw away any chance they have at a bright future...but I've started to distance myself from it now. I fell in love with that girl and I guess that's not really ever going to change, but there are a lot of other kids that can still be helped and haven't done everything she's done to throw it back at in our faces. I guess I'll just have to concentrate on the success we've had with kids like "Tammy" and "Celeste". Not that those are guaranteed to bear a lot of fruit either, but but sooner or later we'll hit one out of the park if we just don't give up.

We have to hit some out of the park, or at least get the occasional ground-rule double. Else why are we even doing this? I mean, besides the outstanding entertainment?

In Which "Celeste" Blows It

2007-10-22T20:49:00.001-07:00

She's been a real pleasure to have around lately, so the other shoe was pretty much due to drop. Tonight at play practice (we've finally gotten her interested in an activity!) the director was late. So "Celeste" does what every self-respecting, wholesome, not to mention intelligent girl does when she has a few minutes to kill. She slips outside and sparks up a cancer stick.

Wrong answer, when the director walks up behind you and busts your ass.

So then she claims it's going to be 3 days out-of-school suspension. I know this because it was repeated very loudly in The Wife's disgruntled-sounding shout that I heard at the other end of the house. She's getting good at this. So she jumped online and in 2 minutes flat she got the straight dope that the school's policy says for a first-time smoking offender the real penalty is one day in-school suspension, which mollified The Wife somewhat. I'll interject here that I'm glad I'm not a kid in this age. You can't get by with anything if your parents know what they're doing...my mom still hasn't learned a computer very well, but you can bet she would have if she had to in order to keep me in line when I was 12 or 13.

The interesting part of this exchange was that immediately after hearing this, "Celeste" replied, "Oh, okay. What's my punishment from you guys?" She sounded like Katie Couric asking Matt Lauer what sort of gel he used in his hair, because gee it looked great.

This sort of perky crap used to really get under my skin, but I've come to realize that in "Celeste's" case she seems to just revel in having the boom lowered on her head when she's done something wrong. She seems to like that someone cares enough to do the lowering. Luckily, I enjoy lowering it from time to time when given a good reason, so we're a match made in heaven.

This is so not a blown placement. She has gotten easier and easier to have around. She still has issues, like the other night when we found what looked like a "goodbye cruel world" note in her room. However, it was (probably purposely) left where The Wife would find it. We made her sign a contract that stipulated that she would be alive when we came to wake her in the morning. Hey, don't laugh. It works, and it's the standard technique they teach us in training to use when you have an iffy situation but your gut tells you it'll be okay. Call the on-call SW to CYA, and then make 'em sign on the dotted line.

But she also has some pretty cool moments. Like yesterday after church. I don't recall if I have mentioned in this space that I used to be something of an actor. I was in a LOT of plays as a kid, I starred in a few, and I entered college as a theater major before I recovered my sanity and switched to something that didn't involve me being gay and working as a waiter the rest of my life. I've mentioned to "Celeste" that I'd like to get involved in community theater or something, so she volunteered me for a church Christmas play they were setting up. Heh. I'd play her dad. One of the pastors was going to do the part, but maybe I'll end up doing it. Talk about your basic father/daughter activity. It would also be the first play I've acted in for close to 20 years.

Last item for the day...The Wife has now given away our new kitty to a family that recently lost their dog and doesn't have a lot of money, and then was given another kitty that the vet had hanging around (probably a thank-you for the gobs and gobs of cash we keep throwing at them for taking care of our menagerie) that may or may not be the first kitty's litter mate. She has already announced that she likes the old kitty better because the new one "isn't as snuggly". I'm not sure if that means that she's going to try to pull a switcheroo with the other family, but I don't much care either way. They're both furry rats that are sometimes nice to have around, and one is as good as the other I'd say.

And now I'll watch for the hate comments from cat-lovers that I know are lurking out there...but not without reminding them that while cats are all fine and good, the best cat can't even compare to the worst dog.

Heh.

For Your Reading Pleasure

2007-10-20T05:56:00.000-07:00

My novel has not yet burst out of my brain through the keyboard to the hard drive yet, so I've decided I'm just going to start submitting stories and commentaries to magazines and newspapers to hone my skill until the novel gets its act together.

The Wife pointed out an ad in the local paper requesting stories for a regional pet magazine asking for humorous stories about pets for publication. What the heck? I'll give it a shot. I asked her what she thought I should write about. She reminded me of an incident that occurred not long before we moved outstate and started fostering.

And so, I give you a small story about Ebeneezer. To the best of my recollection, this is faithful to the actual incident in question. It still scares me a little bit to think about it.

----------------------------------------
When I married a few years ago, part of the package deal I had to accept as part of my nuptial bliss were three cats and a Siberian husky. Since I already had a mastiff cross of my own, this made for a full house, but for two animal lovers it was a home of full of warmth, happiness, cat boxes, poop scooping and of course lots of humor.

You'd think that it would be me presiding over this circus, or perhaps my new wife, if she were the stronger personality. You'd be mistaken. Her black cat, Ebeneezer, had the strongest personality of the household for the first year of our marriage, and as such it was his privilege and responsibility to lead this peculiar pack...though he probably thought of it as his "pride". Whatever the case, it was a gang of critters, human and otherwise, living together in rough harmony. I was just in charge of paying bills and watching the show.

Ebeneezer is no longer with us, having died within the first year of our marriage, but he still lives in our household's institutional memory as an intimidating leader and amazing character. Ebeneezer was not what you'd call an "outside cat". He was with my wife for many years. He was an apartment cat, then a leader of cats (and a human woman) in a house, then finally leader of three cats, two dogs and two humans. By that time he was getting a bit crochety in his old age, and one incident typifies his arbitrary, contradictory style perfectly.

One day my parents were visiting, helping us do some project or other around the house, when Ebeneezer got outside. This didn't happen often, but it wasn't unheard of. He was a house cat, but he enjoyed the odd outside adventure as well. My father walked over to pick him up and take him inside. As dad approached, he let out a sound that was alien to any sound I'd ever heard a cat make...and I heard it from inside the house. With all the doors and windows closed. I honestly thought it might be a woman screaming in the next yard or something, and I ran out to see what was wrong.

Here was Dad, standing about 10 feet away and contemplating a ball of fur that used to be Ebeneezer but was now about twice the size of Eber and resembled nothing so much as a porcupine. He was still growling, too, but now on a register so low that you couldn't hear it until you got near him, and then it vibrated your heels on the ground. It was a sound that said "okay, I'm nervous and scared, and if you try to pick me up I will slash your face off of your skull and eat your liver".

Eber was now crouched under a bush next to the house. Being the self-anointed animal expert that I was, I chided Dad for being nervous about picking him up and walked directly over to Ebeneezer. My plan was simply to pick up the growling cat and put him in the house, so I could mentally pat myself on the back and consider myself superior to Dad in the animal-handling arena. I don't have many arenas where I can feel superior to Dad, so I'll take them where I can get them. And then it happened.

Eber had no plans of allowing a mere peon in his catdom to simply pick him up and take him where he wasn't ready to go. He tried to warn me with the usual arched back, hiss, and fur fluffed out like a feather duster, but clearly he could see I wasn't impressed, so he decided to impress me. When I got within about of foot of touching him, he let out the loudest, most extended...SCREAM...that I've ever heard out of any animal in my life. I firmly believe that Eber could not have produced such a sound with his own vocal chords. I believe he drew on some sort of latent species ability, borrowing the voices of all the cats for miles around for just a moment to impress on me that no, I would NOT be taking him in my arms just this moment.

I thought about it for about two milliseconds before backing off in just exactly the same way Dad had and standing next to him, wondering at what I had just witnessed. When my wife came out to see just exactly what the issue was, she came upon quite a tableau. Two men standing halfway across the yard, chins in hands and apprehensively contemplating a fluffed-out, growl-rumbling, angry cat who seemed to be daring the men to make a move. The men did not appear ready to make a move, either.

"What's going on out here?" she wanted to know.

"I don't think he wants to be picked up right now," I said.

"Oh, don't be silly. It's just Eber." And before I could plead with her that I didn't want to be a widower at such a young age and I liked her face ON her skull and it would really be better to wait awhile, she picked him up and took him into the house. My Dad and I were left to look at each other and contemplate whether this incident and my wife's expert handling of it had done any lasting damage to our manhood. I think, three years or so later, the jury is still out on that one.

Two cats and two dogs have died (and been replaced) since that day, but Eber remains a unique, timeless classic. My parents and my wife and I are fond of recalling that incident and others like it, but I don't think I've really fully worn the pants in the family since that day.

Couple of Notes

2007-10-19T18:33:00.000-07:00

1) The internet is fun. I am now the #1 hit on google for the search phrase "why are people fascinated in animals". Referral logs are full of wonderful (and useless) information.

2) The internet is dangerous. I've had some good laughs over things I've seen in my logs, but also had some very, very bad moments when I've seen various search phrases.

If you have kids, keep them close to you. DO NOT let them talk to strangers on the internet. Don't let kids under 15 or so use the internet outside of a common area in your house, and it's invaluable to have a key logger program on your PC. I recommend K9 for controlling what your kids can browse to (doesn't help with many chat programs, though). I further recommend Perfect Key Logger to keep an eye on the things they're typing. Some people have qualms about "invasion of privacy". Your kids have no right of privacy when it comes to the internet. Remember that, and make sure they're protected.

Most importantly, confront them when you discover they've visited an inappropriate site or have been chatting inappropriately. Confiscate computers. Ground them for OMIGODTHEMOSTIMPORTANTSOCIALEVENTOFTHEYEAR, if that's what it takes to make them understand you're serious.

Hey, "Celeste" and "Jill" (before she left) absolutely detest these things. I can't think of a better endorsement for their effectiveness.

Gridiron Gang

2007-10-19T17:51:00.000-07:00

I knew there was something I liked about Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. Even when I saw him a few times as a wrestler, there's just something about him that's charismatic as hell. Last weekend The Wife and I had a date and went to the movies, where we took in "The Game Plan", Johnson's latest offering. It was GREAT.

But tonight I'm home alone (ever notice how I usually blog when I'm home alone?) and I had a chance to take in "Gridiron Gang", which I never caught before now. I wouldn't have caught it now, except that Starz is having a free preview weekend and I'm taking full advantage, since I'm not too cheap to get satellite TV but am too cheap to buy a premium package. I guess my tolerance for throwing money away lies somewhere between those two points.

Anyway, Johnson's character is a sort of hard core version of me in the movie. He's in charge of a bunch of gang bangers that are in a sort of reformatory, and he's trying to teach them how to be, you know, actual people...given the ever-present limited resources and for sure ever-present bad attitudes on the part of the kids he's trying to reach.

Of course, the ending is the typical formulaic football ending with the game in the balance on the last play and the clock down to zero, yadda yadda yadda. I just really liked the way Johnson played the character. He's dealing with a few of his own issues, which are miniature versions of the issues the kids are dealing with. Sounds familiar. He gets frustrated and sometimes pushes the kids farther than they're ready to be pushed. Sounds familiar. He often comes close to giving up or losing his ability to help them. Sounds familiar.

Sometimes even us hopeless cases need a little inspiration. Thanks, Dwayne.

Anyway, in other news, last Friday a man in our church was killed in a car accident. He was the keyboardist for our church's band and one of the founding members. I heard about it late Friday night. I didn't know him well personally, but I knew him to say hello to and we have many mutual friends as well.

I sent a letter to the editor of the local paper, which ended up getting printed as a guest opinion column. Wow. I'd link to it here, but I suspect that would blow my "cover" even more than I've blown it in some of my various posts. For the same reason I'm hesitant to quote any of it, since that invites any yahoo with a search engine to find out my town, and probably more.

But readers here who have never lived in the country or in a small town most likely don't understand what sort of honor this is. I've had letters printed in the Minneapolis Star/Tribune, and once I had a commentary piece printed there. It's a different sort of honor there...there are probably a thousand people who submit commentary-length pieces every day. To get one printed is pretty cool. Somebody who does this stuff for a living decided I had something to say that people should read! Yay me!

This is a different--but no less spectacular--honor. This man was one of the local sons. Everybody knew him and had good things to say about him. The editor of the local paper is that most specialized of creatures. He's the pulse-taker for a small corner of the world. He's looking for a piece to comemmorate this occasion...one that will speak to people who knew the man and will be a lasting piece that will find its home in scrapbooks and photo albums of those who knew him best. That my words would live on in such places is an honor I'm not sure I deserve, but one I'll gladly accept. That's the sort of thing that drives goons like me to write the things we write, after all.

It also seems to have made me a minor local celebrity-for-a-week. Suddenly it seems that many more people around here know who I am, even if it's just "that guy that wrote the article in the paper". The funeral was quite a spectacle, absolutely filling the high school gym. I showed up about 25 minutes early, and from the time I got there until the service started it seemed I thanked about 50 or 60 people who expressed how they liked it. A couple of people seemed speechless, and could only hug me. That's okay. I work for hugs. Heck, I do this just to get it outside of myself, where it can do less damage to my psyche than if it's bottled up inside for too long and turns rancid, you know?

What else...I've had laryngitis for about 3 weeks or more now, and I finally broke down and went to the doctor. She pronounced my throat to be a reasonable facsimile of "raw hamburger". Apparently it's simple tonsilitis, but "at your age, your body has a tougher time fighting off some infections." AT MY AGE! Is it time to apply for my AARP card yet? Sheesh. Anyway, she prescribed some stuff that has me feeling a bit tired, but I'll take it.

Also..."Celeste" is actually progressing pretty nicely. We're ever-so-slowly gaining her confidence, and last week she let the mask slip a bit and referred to The Wife as "Mom". Heh. Wish I could have been there to see her blush. Remember, we're talking about an ultra-tough super-goth bitch grrrrllll here. Plus, she's developed a delightful habit of sometimes walking up behind me while I'm sitting in my chair watching TV and, without saying a word, just leaning on the top of my head with her arms and watching with me for a few minutes.

Finally, related to the sore throat, I can already feel the medicine working and it was slowly starting to improve anyway. What this means--if past history is any guide--is that there is a short window of time coming up, possibly this weekend yet, when my voice will go through what I think of as the Def Leppard/Bon Jovi stage. For as little as a day and as long as two, my voice will retain that rough edge while my vocal cords are twisted into healing knots and I'll be able to sing the entire contents of Def Leppard's "Pyromania" album and Bon Jovi's "Slippery When Wet" and "New Jersey" albums hitting all the notes except the high ones in "Livin' on a prayer", which nobody but Jon himself can sing properly without ripping their vocal cords a new one.

But all in all, it's all good. I still love my life.

Nice Sunday

2007-10-07T16:07:00.000-07:00

We went to church this morning, and "Celeste" actually behaved herself and, tellingly to us, took communion. She was boycotting all things religious, but I think she is still trying to get herself right with God. It would be wonderful if she could, but just the idea that she's thinking about it thrills me. She's beginning to learn at least that she doesn't have all the answers, and that there are sources outside herself that are worth something.

It has been a long, rainy Sunday afternoon. "Celeste" began by demanding to go on the computer. She was on for 20 minutes, and since then has been spending time alternately watching TV in the kitchen and writing or laying in my spot in our bed watching TV with The Wife. Just the way a rainy Sunday afternoon should be spent, in my humblest of opinions.

For my part, I spent my day and will most likely spend my evening watching groups of extremely large, sweaty men try to beat each other up while following an arcane set of rules. I will compare each individual large, sweaty man's results against my guesses of who would beat up who the most in order to determine if my guesses about the matter were superior to those of faceless people I have never met and never will meet, to determine if I should taunt them or if I should be expecting them to taunt me.

This is known as "Fantasy Football", and it rawks.

Inspiration

2007-10-06T05:35:00.000-07:00

Okay, I may have mentioned this before, but fairly regularly we have what are called "Share and Support" meetings. Essentially what this is a program set up by PATH where they give us credit for training if the PATH foster parents in our area get together and simply visit about how the fostering is going. In our case, we make it a pot luck and scoop massive amounts of chow into our yaps while we're at it.

Very sweet deal, and a pretty useful program, all told. It's not formal and there's always good food, so it's pleasant to attend. It's a good chance to establish friendships with the other foster parents and make connections for when we need respite. It's a WONDERFUL chance to compare notes on foster kids, learn about what families in the community are the "projects" that are likely to generate more foster kids (a heads-up is always nice), and it's just a good thing in so many ways I truly feel for the county foster homes that don't have a similar program (but should).

Anyway, to skip to a different subject for a moment. The other day I was talking with my boss, who is a very interesting man. Aside from being one of the better software developers I've had the pleasure to work with, he has an active outside-work life (not all that different from mine in some ways) in which he runs a nonprofit that helps ex-convicts get their lives together.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, we started to discuss some of his current and former clients who had been in the foster system when they were kids. How much had the foster system really helped them? What, if anything, did they do wrong? What could have been done better? Did they like it? Did they tell their foster parents they liked it? Were they still in touch with their foster parents? Were they in more than one home, and if so how would they compare the different experiences? What factors, in their opinion, made one foster home more helpful than another?

And as we were discussing this, I had the epiphany. You remember those old commercials for Reese's peanut butter cups? The one where a good-looking guy eating a candy bar runs into a hot girl eating peanut butter straight from the jar and with incredibly crude symbolism they discover "two great tastes that taste great together"? That's the moment that was created here.

I fired off an email to "Vicki", who seemed to like the idea. I'm going to invite my boss along with one of his former-foster-kid-types (his choice which one) to our November S&S gathering. Other foster parents really need to hear the things he was telling me, and all of us could benefit from the chance to hear it straight from the mouth of someone who was a product of the system.

On the other side, my boss told me that one of the main problems with these guys (not unlike foster kids) is that they have a hard time understanding why anybody would want to help them, and how they are worth anything. This would give them a chance to help out others in a concrete way that they can easily understand, and be a potential major benefit to the kids we are trying to help. Everybody wins.

Plus, the usual hosts of our S&S gatherings raise horses, and one of their side businesses is providing horse therapy to whoever wants it (the day-treatment school is a regular client, from what I gather). My boss seemed interested in maybe trying that with his clients, and wants to talk to the guy that does it. I'm just creating synchronicity all over the place here.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go see if we have any chocolate stashed anywhere around here. Writing about it made me a bit peckish.

A True Story

2007-10-03T19:01:00.001-07:00

WARNING: This may be considered a disturbing post. I know it is to me. Just don't say you weren't warned...

Sometimes, fostering is a long, long, long game, and it's one you don't always win...but you don't necessarily lose until you give up.

There once was a girl in her early-to-mid teens. She came from a small group of families that were known more or less as the hillbillies of the county. They had strange ideas about how a family should work and how to get on in their community.

This girl experienced various forms of abuse and eventually ended up in foster care with a family that came to care very much about her. She had problems, and she was sometimes sneaky and untrustworthy, but she had a bright, shining side to her that was a joy to see and know. Her family situation made it such that she couldn't return home all the rest of her teen years for more than home visits, and after establishing strong bonds with her foster family she went off to college to seek her fortune.

While at college, she met The Man Of Her Dreams. He was a good looking guy, friendly, outgoing, and a strong Christian. He hit it off with her foster family immediately, and she seemed to make a good impression on his family. They eventually married and had several children, setting up house and preparing to live the American dream for the rest of their lives.

She eventually (by her mid-to-late 20s) had had it with her birth family, and approached her former foster parents about the possibility of making her relationship to their family formal through adoption. She wanted to cut all ties to her birth family and replace them with the foster family that had treated her well and with love at a time in her life when that was what she needed most.

The foster family spoke about it among themselves and decided unanimously that they would be pleased to add this woman as a new member. It seemed very natural, since she had basically been a part of the family already in any case. She had gone on family vacations with them, cried with them, laughed with them, shared her own and their joys and sorrows, and so forth. How would it really be much different if she was formally adopted? And so it went.

The years rolled by and her new family watched her raise her children into fine young adults. She and her husband occasionally had problems, but what couple doesn't? No alarm bells rang...or at least not very often or for very long. Only once did it seem that they might have serious trouble, but that sorted itself out eventually. The couple was very financially successful, attended church together with their children regularly, sent all their children to a private school, lived in very nice houses, and so forth. Her husband eventually started his own very successful business.

Along the way, her "new" family attended various Christmas, Independence Day, graduation and other celebrations that mark a family's progress in life. It was very satisfying to the former foster parents and their birth children. They felt that no matter how many foster kids they had tried to help and failed, at least they made it with one. That made it all worth it.

One day, the foster family received a call. Their adopted daughter, it appeared, had for some time been leading a bit of a double life. Her youngest child was in his last year of school, and she had decided she could no longer live as she had been. She hadn't loved her husband for several years. She was leaving him. For a relative. Of hers.

Remember when I said her family was known as the hillbillies of their county? It would seem that sometimes there are rumors for good reasons.

The kicker? Word has it she's suing for custody of her youngest child. Apparently this almost-no-longer-a-child just can't get the necessary care from a moderately wealthy man who loves the child, has supported and lived together with the child all its life, and is supported by both his own and his erstwhile wife's adopted families.

There's more, but I think I've given as many gory details as I can stand to this gloomy night.

Sigh. The ick factor is so very strong in this situation and I have such a problem trying to get past that that I can't analyze any of the rest of the many levels on which this whole thing is just so, so wrong. I've been trying for several days, and I'm no further than I was the first night.

If you foster them, they will come. And stomp on your heart and guts and everything else. Again and again. And again. And then, after many fits and starts, you will get them up on their feet and get them successfully launched out into the wide world, and they will even have much success in their lives. And then one day they will call you up and explode your frontal lobe over the phone, leaving a smoking crater in the top of your skull.

Folks, if I haven't made it clear, it takes a real optimist to be in this business. Some would say it takes a fool. Right now, I'm not in the mood to disagree with them. But I'm not quitting. No way. I flat refuse.

Next!

Notes to Self

2007-09-04T18:54:00.000-07:00

We have gone a long way toward settling in with "Celeste" and gaining some of her trust. I've been busy with home improvement, work, fantasy football and so forth, so I've been a bit sidelined on fostering as well as writing, but I've been watching The Wife go to work on her and I've been taking some potshots here and there.

Notes to self regarding "Celeste":

1) She considers herself a goth. Get over it. Teasing her by calling her a "valley girl goth" will not only upset her, but may result in physical retribution one of these times.

2) She's not going to magically turn around and become an "up" person. No matter how many times you come up behind her and tickle her. One of these times, you'll get fingernails in your eyes.

3) She has problems, but she's really one of the most normal kids we've ever had. Accentuate the positive, and try to let the laziness slide.

4) Sometime you've got to learn the differences between behavior that signifies real trouble and behavior that signifies a lazy but normal teen. Sometimes it's hard to tell, but there's got to be some rules of thumb there. Find them.

5) She's started school, and that means a disruptive change in schedule, plus she's starting in a new school where she knows NOBODY. Cut her some slack when you're done cussing about her.

6) She's really cool sometimes. It took a little longer than with "Josie", but you know you're starting to really love her. Face it. You're a hopeless case.

7) Thank GOD "Jill" is gone. We NEVER would have gotten this far with that little troublemaker here.

Needless to say, "Celeste" is still with us, is starting school, is having a tough time after the first day, is receiving what encouragement she'll let us give her, and is worming her way into our hearts. Pretty much a successful placement by all signs, which is a relief. We were seriously starting to wonder if we were really cut out for this stuff after all.

A parting note on "Jill": we're not exactly sure where she ended up so far, if anywhere. She may still be sitting in juvenile detention. She has left a couple of messages on our machine for "Celeste" trashing us and urging her not to "let them get under your skin". Of course, her little love note to me plus other considerations have likely landed her in a psychiatric evaluation program somewhere, and I seriously doubt in any case if things are going as swimmingly as she had pictured them.

Sigh. I guess you can only help the ones that will let you help.

Problem Looms

2007-08-10T07:35:00.000-07:00

Since "Jill" left, it's AMAZING (!) how life has settled down. That girl is probably going to end up a politician, because while she was "in office", it was very hard to pin the general unrest and evil feeling in the house on her specifically. Yet, it's pretty much all gone at the same time as her. I'm sure that's just a coincidence, right?

When I say "evil feeling", I'm not just blowing smoke, and I'm not the only one who felt it. When we brought the girls to a regular dinner meeting with other foster parents in the area (aptly termed "share and support" meetings), the host foster mom commented on it. Something about the girls having a "bad vibe". Well, with "Jill" gone, "Celeste" suddenly seems like a much more normal--if troubled--kid. And she has problems that we can DEFINITELY help with, if we're given the time.

And there's the source of our current conundrum. When "Celeste" came here, it was with the idea that we were simply a transition place for her until she could move in with her bio dad. Apparently either nobody consulted "Celeste" on this, or else they didn't believe what she had to say. Because when we asked her about her feelings on the matter, she said she wouldn't live with her dad. She would either run away or commit suicide first. Too bad the kid has such a hard time expressing how she feels, eh?

Sooooooo...the real problem. There's the looming matter of school. She doesn't want to live with her dad, but she DOES want to go to the school in that town, about 20 miles away or something. She has friends there. Well, The Wife won't be driving her to school, especially when if she goes to school here, she could get picked up at the end of our driveway. And it's hard enough some days to get her up at noon. I shiver to think what she'd be like if you tried to wake her up in time to drive her to a bus pickup 10 miles away in time for the bus to get her to school.

There seems to be no plan B for this girl right now. Since we're now okay with her after the removal of the root problem that we had such a hard time dealing with, we're prepared to keep her here indefinitely. But today, her social worker is going to tell her that she'll have to go to school here if she's not living with her dad.

I don't know if I can be blamed for this one as well, but we'll find out. It's okay, I can take it. Plus, I think she's starting to be a little less mad at me about "Jill" leaving. She even joked with me a little the last couple of days. This could be fun after the initial badness.

Fosterchildectomy

2007-08-08T19:39:00.001-07:00

I owe regular readers an apology. Over the last 1/2 year or more, I just haven't felt like posting much. Much of that time, it was because there was little to report. Lately, there's been way too much to report for me to have the time to digest and make sense of it in order to write coherently about it. Hopefully that will change soon.

"Jill" has now been removed from the equation. I've written a bit about her, but I'm pretty sure I haven't conveyed the full flavor of what it's like to have her in the house. Let's just say that my relationship with her climaxed on Saturday, when I was sent to pick her up from the county fair. She immediately went into her patented argument routine. I was tired, and without her knowledge it had already been decided due to other factors in her behavior that she would be leaving on Monday. I simply quietly reminded her that if she didn't come home, there would be no phone or internet privileges for awhile, and she should just come on home so we could get on with life. Keep in mind that we were in the middle of the county fair "Melanie" was with me as I was giving her a ride home after a visit, she was with a friend's family (that friend being "Tammy", who readers are somewhat familiar with, I guess):

"Jill" (about 100 decibels): "Don't tell me what the fuck to do!"

Me: Good lord, watch your mouth and tone it down!

"Jill": (about 110 decibels, the volume of a jet taking off): "DON'T TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK TO DO!"

Me: (turns around and starts walking to the Shariff's deputy to get a hand dealing with this teenage critter)

And she actually followed. Granted, she scowled the whole way home as was a complete pill for the rest of the day, but she actually shut up and did as asked. If I'd been doing my job as a journalist you'd know what a surprise that is.

Anyway, that incident made her parting "letter" almost anticlimactic. I never actually received this letter...I read it in our keylogger program...the one she references in the second portion, as a matter of fact. According to the log, the first portion was written about 20 minutes before the second portion. Here's the first:

Dan,
hey, i know we have had our bad times but we also had alot of great times as well. i really think of you as my father and i hope you never forget me, your a great guy and im sorry for all of the shit i put you threw, i love you very much please dont ever forget that. the reason i did not say goodbye is because i did not wana start balling and i know you were mad at me. i really care about you. When you have a baby of your own i will be so glad because that child will be very happy and greatly taken care of. I really hope you can forgive all the stupid things i have said and done to hurt you adn your family. im gonna miss you soooooooo much that i will most likely be crieng when i leave because i will miss you so flippin much. the memories we have had will never fade in my mind and i hope that they never fade for u as well because no matter wheat you will always be a part of me and you are the best father a kid could ever ask for. dam im startin to tear up. i really miss you already. I love you dan!!! i know im a handful but i hope that deap down you will relize that i will always and i always have loved you like my dad. i hope you wright to me in juvie and i hope that someday we can see each other again. IM SOOOOO SORRY! im sorry i hurt you the way i did. you are sooo special to me. i really better go but please wright.

Love always your daughter
["Jill"]

[Address information for detention center she went to]

[phone number where she expects to go from there]

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Think she laid it on a bit thick? Apparently only to increase the effect of the final flourish 20 minutes later:

DAn
You know that letter that you are probably reading in your piece of shit type tracking fucking thing......forget it you fucking ass raper....you suck and well........bye i fucking hate you

Charmed, I'm sure.

So now you know the rest of the story. Or at least you maybe have an idea why I haven't been giving you much of the rest of the story. Right now, The Wife and I are so glad to "have our lives back" (The Wife's phrase, and an apropos one) that we're almost delirious. "Celeste" is almost a complete picnic after what we've been through.

See you on the flip side. Hopefully it won't be so long until the next post.

But I do still love my life.

"Celeste" Fricassee

2007-07-24T20:22:00.000-07:00

So I was sitting browsing some blogs when "Jill" came flying in and babbling about how "Celeste" was cutting and "bleeding all over the place". "Jill" is quite the drama queen, but in a foster home those are words that chill your heart no matter who says them. I live in fear of the day when a child doesn't answer the breakfast call and we get a visit from the police and the coroner.

I went in to check it out, and indeed "Celeste" had done quite a number on her arm. Smallish cuts, none deep but numbering like the stars all up and down the top of one arm, plus a few for good measure across her wrists. She's smart enough to know (and our subsequent conversation verified that she does know) that if she were going to do a good job of offing herself, she would do far better to cut her arm deep the long way from wrist to elbow, so I'm taking that as a sign that this was a more mainline variety of cutting. Still, it's worrisome.

She had just today lost her internet privileges and most of her phone privileges until at least Saturday as a result of some truly nasty things she was IMing with a boy. The girl is 13 and hypersexualized to the point that she's barely recognizable as a human.

One, Two, Three, GO!

2007-07-14T14:09:00.000-07:00

Has anybody but me noticed that ESPN2 is a fountain of the interesting, the funny and the obnoxiously absurd? I tune in once in awhile, especially when I see something particularly grotesque on the schedule.

I am currently watching the Rock, Paper, Scissors ("RPS" to those who know what they're talking about) championship. I sh*t you not. The winner takes away $50,000.

Watching this is a treat. If it was a college class, it would be a cross between anthropology and abnormal psychology. I just watched an old guy with perfect white whiskers and dressed up as Santa clause lose to some college-age punk by repeatedly picking "Paper" while the other guy picked "Scissors" like 5 times in a row. We're in the semifinals, so it's a sudden death match, natch.

It comes complete with the obligatory hot chick, who just beat some giant slob who looked like he hadn't showered since Clinton was president. She had a large cheering section. I'm guessing it was her "mental focus" and "intensity" that won them over. No way could it be her hot body, beautiful hair and killer boobs.

Seriously, this comes complete with little clips like you see in football broadcasts about their training regimen, how well they try to eat, how long they've been participating in this "sport", and everything. Naturally, they have a retired "RPS champion" as color commentator.

I'm not sure if things like this indicate that we're too rich as a society that we need things to spend money on, we're a sick society in a heated race to oblivion, or people are just plain weird. I want to believe the first or last, but sometimes I fear the second.

The worst part is, I suddenly feel an obscene urge to see this thing in person sometime.

Road Trip

2007-07-14T10:51:00.000-07:00

The Wife took our Little Darlings on a bit of a road trip yesterday and are scheduled to return later today. I'm home alone and loving it, taking care of our menagerie and not doing much of anything.

There is a dog at the local Humane Society (where we sometimes volunteer, as I think I've mentioned before) that has been there for TWO YEARS. He's always been a bit of a problem child...sort of like a foster dog, I guess. Longtime readers may recall that we took in Mitch (some sort of a German Shepherd/Pit Bull cross or something) and worked with him a bit to make him more adoptable...Hunter (a dog who reminds me of nothing so much as Old Yeller) never had that same advantage, and he's been languishing in a kennel this whole time.

Well, The Wife's sister, who lives down near Minneapolis/St. Paul, has a friend who wanted a dog and heard about Hunter. They thought they could handle him and help him become a real dog. He IS a "real" dog, of course, but he has some behavioral issues. The worst one is that while he doesn't really bite per se, he does tend to gnaw on your hand if you let him. He's also difficult to walk and various other issues that make him not a suitable choice for a family with small children, for instance. These and other issues may just be due to his long confinement and lack of attention, of course.

And early reports indicate that that is the case, too. Last night The Wife called, just thrilled with how he was behaving with his new family. She couldn't believe it was the same dog. Just goes to show you what a little love and attention can do.

And apparently we have not yet given enough love and attention to "Jill" and "Celeste" yet to make their nasty behaviors go away. They are with her on this trip, and from what I've heard from The Wife, they need to be either loved more or smacked upside the head, and almost definitely a little of each.

The Wife's sister and her friends are big drinkers, especially by our standards since we don't keep alcohol in the house and I'm a teetotaler while The Wife has a drink maybe a few times a year. So when Hunter was coming, it was a time for socializing and drinking. "Jill" didn't like this, and said so. Loudly. Accusingly. In front of the sister and her friends.

NOW...I'm all for the idea of "Jill" not drinking and letting her friends know that she doesn't like it. That's commendable in a teen and I'm very glad for it. However...she really needs to learn to shut up in certain situations. One such situation is when people far older than her--and strangers to boot--decide that they want to legally partake in an activity. That is their right. She should have nothing to say about it whatsoever. And yet it sounds like she had plenty to say. Well, I'm going to have a few things to say to her when she gets home, I think.

When The Wife appropriately stepped in and told her to back off and go for a walk to "cool down", she did. But "Celeste" followed her. The Wife called after her that she didn't need to go with "Jill" and that she should come back. She ignored The Wife and went with "Jill" anyway. I will have words for "Celeste" about that, too.

Aside from blatantly ignoring a direct request by The Wife, this is part of an ongoing problem, particularly with Celeste but I've seen it with "Jill" on occasion too. When one of them gets sent to their room because we're angry, the other one (particularly "Celeste") seems to think it's completely fine to go with them to their room. Usually shutting the door (against house rules) so they can complain and cuss about us to each other.

I'm soliciting suggestions on how to handle this, as it's really annoying and not appropriate. When we make one of them go to cool off, it's not so that they can get together and work each other up. Quite the opposite. The whole point is for them to be alone with themselves and see if we can't get them to reflect on their behavior a little bit. We've told them this, and it's not sinking in.

In the absence of any better ideas, the next time this sort of thing happens it will begin cutting into their internet time, and particularly their phone time. We've been way too lenient with their phone time anyway, and it's officially out of hand.

Man, but these two are great manipulators. We'll be experts at counter-manipulation by the time we see the backside of these two.

The Flesh-Naked Fish of Doom

2007-07-09T18:03:00.000-07:00

We had a long weekend at the lake after the 4th, and it was really, really cool. The girls are settling in nicely (finally!) and I have several stories to relate, but I'll pace myself and just give you a smallish peek into our weekend.

"Jill" can be a pretty good worker when she gets it into her head to get off her lazy princess butt and do something (not to put too fine a point on it). One day this weekend, she was in the lake swimming and noticed that, well, there are just a hell of a lot of weeds around our dock. This year the weeds must have had a meeting and then went tooling around the lake together until they found their perfect place to grow for the summer, which happens to be the area within a 50-yard radius of our dock. So we're sitting in a weed pit.

"Jill" decided to bust my image of her as a spoiled little brat with a fragile work ethic and actually pull weeds for awhile. And she actually managed to make something of a difference. Until...

I was on the other side of the cabin when I noticed the shock wave from her scream ruffling the leaves in the trees and jostling the clouds just a bit. I ran around the cabin just in time to see the lake settle back within its normal banks, having been raised by the violence of her now-continuous, ear-splitting vocalizations. She flew up the ladder onto the dock and whirled like a dervish up the stairs where she stopped, beating at herself and gibbering uncontrollably but thankfully at less than 120 decibels. It was a little like having the Tazmanian Devil from the old Bugs Bunny cartoons jump out of the lake and buzz up the bank straight at you. Yeek.

Her speech wasn't much clearer than Taz's, either. The only things I was able to discern that she clearly said was something about a fish and "it's bones are sticking out!" Sigh. Since we aren't allowed to start a morphine drip, we had to wait awhile for her to calm down, after which we found out that basically she had been pulling weeds when from the weeds came The Fish Of Doom. A carp that in its livelier days must have weighed in at 6 or 7 pounds, minimum. It was dead enough that some of its body had rotted away and it now weighed maybe 4 or 5 pounds. It looked like it had lost a battle with a boat propeller or something, because part of its flesh was gone and its bones were, indeed, sticking out.

And did it stink. Whew.

The next day, "Jill" carefully checked the entire area and sure enough, the fish had drifted in to shore and maybe 30 yards down the shore from the dock. It seemed to reassure her that at least she knew where it was hiding though, so swimming was okay again. I did notice that she avoided the weeds after that, though. Heh. Too bad. It would have been nice to get some more weeds gone.

Ah, well. Maybe next time, after the terror has worn off and she gets into the same type of mood where she needs something to do. That's a handy feature in a foster kid, I must say.

I'll have more on this weekend later. In the meantime, don't let the fish get you.

On False Accusations

2007-06-23T13:32:00.000-07:00

I am a foster dad in a treatment home which seems to have begun specializing in teen girls. Thus, the possibility of false accusations of inappropriate sexual behavior weighs on my mind quite heavily sometimes. I am unable to spend much time in a one-on-one situation with any of these girls as a real father might, and I have to be very, very careful and aware of my surroundings and the situation at all times.

That's sad, but it's the world as it is. Other people are starting to notice this state of affairs in other similar environments such as the Big Brother/Big Sister program, too:

Perhaps men are merely acting rationally. They’ve assessed the risk of volunteering to work with children, and want no part of it. If so, that’s why BB-BS rates of male participation are well below national averages, which include volunteering that doesn’t involve children. Men have been reading the newspapers for the last 30 years, and don’t want to end up like Gerald Amirault, who served 18 years in prison following a child abuse witch hunt in Massachusetts, or like Grant Snowden, the Miami police officer who served 12 years behind bars as Janet Reno’s stepping stone to national office. They’re aware of cases like that of teacher Mark Fronczak, who was arrested, tried and found innocent, but “Besides his career, Fronczak lost his house and life savings during the ordeal. He voluntarily gave up custody of his two teenage sons to his ex-wife after his arrest. … “My life as I know it has been ruined,” he said. Fronczak would have been imprisoned for life if convicted.”

Further, when an accusation happens, men may worry BB-BS will react the way Duke University’s president, Board of Governors and faculty did despite the extreme improbability of the allegations against the three student victims.

As I said, I'm well aware of the risks I'm taking to help these kids...but I'm a hard case, and I don't feel I have an option. I'm in this thing, no matter what. I can't not help these kids. If there's a false accusation, then there just is. Somebody has to help the ones that need help, and that would be us. It's who we are. All I can do is whatever I can do to limit my exposure.

But this article and the links there point to the reasons groups from BB-BS to the Boy and Girl Scouts to the YMCA to foster care are having difficulty getting volunteers. If you're not a nut about it like we and our fellow bloggers (see sidebar) are, you'll probably think two or three times before opening yourself up to frivolous charges that could reasonably be expected to wreck your life.

I've accepted the fact that in the current political climate I could be convicted of a felony and have my life ruined if we get the wrong girl in this house and she is able to convince certain people that I did something to her.

The sad part is, there doesn't seem to be any need for evidence of wrongdoing in cases like that...if the girl is cute and the opportunity existed, then I'm apparently guilty by default and will lose my house and do jail time unless I can somehow prove my innocence. Our SW has even told us quite forthrightly that if either of us is ever accused of anything, no matter what the circumstances or likelihood of accuracy, our organization will not stand by us, nor even talk to us about the issue until a full investigation has been completed. Of course, at that point it may be too late for us if the wrong person is running the investigation. We've heard horror stories at our trainings about this very issue.

Why do we continue then? Because we have to. It's who we are. If you love golf, how do you stop being a golfer? It's too late. You already are...you can only be a golfer who no longer plays. If you love animals and have pets, how can you just stop? You'll still love animals. If you love God, how do you stop praying? You'll still love God.

If you're not a foster parent and are considering doing what we do, it would behoove you to consider how you would respond if you suddenly were sued for something you didn't do and the system that recruited you didn't back you up. It probably won't happen...my parents made it through nearly 30 years without any legal trouble. But it's a changing world, and the politicos, feminists, well-financed trial lawyers and others are doing everything they can to put men behind bars, sometimes regardless of whether they're really guilty or how good their previous record is. Witness the recent Duke Lacrosse case.

At that point, will you be sorry you ever got into fostering? I've considered it carefully, and I know I would not be sorry. Not at all. Because the work we're doing is way too important to let some lawyer or "political activists" prevent it.

But...But...

2007-06-20T20:06:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life just ain't fair, you know? Here's a story for you. Let me know what you think.

As I think I've posted before, we have a 17-year-old girl I haven't given a blog-name yet who has been with us a few different weekends for respite. She's a pretty, rather shy girl, and she and I hit it off from the first night she was here and we sat up talking fairly late. She's got a fairly level head on her shoulders considering her shaky home life, and we've enjoyed having her around.

The last weekend she stayed with us was also the first weekend we had "Celeste" and "Jill", as well as one of the first weekends we had "Tammy" full time for her extended stay. The place was kind of a madhouse, and this girl seemed uncomfortable. Then "Jill" opened her gigantic, cavernous, gaping yap and said something crude and mean to her, which made her cry.

I immediately stepped into the breach and smoothed the ruffled feathers on both sides as well as I could. I let the girl know that this was not the sort of thing we allow here (and you can bet "Jill" heard the same in much stronger terms) . I thought we had things sorted out...and I suppose we did. But it apparently had to go just one step further.

The Wife spoke with the girl's social worker today, and apparently she was not as impressed with our house this time. Enough so that she told the social worker she didn't think they should send any more kids to our house. Ouch. But the main reason she gave, at least that I heard, was one we really didn't have control over. Yes, it was busy and louder than she's used to and she apparently didn't like it, but I didn't hear a special problem with that.

No, what really got her was a little incident that happened that weekend which is one of the things I would have liked to write about but for lack of time and energy. You see, that was the weekend that "Jill" and "Celeste" thought it would be just a fabulous idea for "Jill" to pierce "Celeste's" nose. This probably isn't one to rate on a par with "Josie" deciding to pierce her own tongue, but it's close enough for government work.

So the kid says to her social worker that they shouldn't send more kids over here, because it's too loud and busy, and there's kids piercing each other and stuff.

Sigh. So much for the old reputation.

Hello Everybody

2007-06-19T19:34:00.000-07:00

I just looked at my referrer logs for the first time in forever, and the diversity of visitors amazes me. Hello, British people! Hello, Germans and Australians! Canadians, French, Kenyans, Spanish, Mexicans and a bunch of others! A shout out to the folks in Minnesota, California, Ohio, Texas, and up and down the east coast! Yes, even Guthrie, Oklahoma. You know who you are. But I guess I don't...though I do know you're using Cox Communications as your ISP, you're running Windows XP and use Internet Explorer 7.0, your monitor is set to 1280x1024 with 32-bit color you're still running JavaScript 1.3 (get with it, d00d), you're running the .NET framework 1.1 (you should really install 2.0), and apparently Amanda's Random Thoughts brought you to my little corner of the internet. Did I mention I was a professional geek? Heh.

Man. Even just when I was a kid, it was unthinkable that I would be able to communicate my thoughts to such a broad spectrum of people, never mind that some of them would have an interest in reading my blatherings.

But then, I guess I have an interest in other people's musings about this stuff too pretty often. It's good that we have the opportunity to compare notes with each other like this, you know?

Home Alone Again

2007-06-19T19:14:00.000-07:00

And tonight I got another reprieve from the kidz, as "Tammy" is on a home visit and the other two are with The Wife on a church youth trip to an amusement park or some such.

Tonight I'd finally like to focus a little on something more specific, and that something is "Celeste". I admit I wasn't much impressed with her at first. She struck me as a stuck-up little snot that would take some breaking before she could mend. I think I may have thought too fast.

This girl is, as Mom said so eloquently when I talked to her earlier this evening, deep. I think there's some really, really good stuff in her. Oh, she's got a defensive shield up 100% about 90% of the time, but that other 10% is really, really interesting to see. When she lets the mask slip, you can see a calm, kind, thoughtful and very, very smart person inside. Freaky smart, really. Combined with the fact that she has a more developed body than many 16- and even 18-year-olds, her intellect makes you naturally treat her as a lot older than the 12 that she is. She does still have a bit of a baby face, which keeps me from forgetting myself completely and asking if she wants a shot of gin, but she often does carry herself with a good deal of maturity.

That, I'm discovering, seems to be a very rare thing indeed in fostering. Lots of times these kids have been mistreated, or neglected, or simply exposed to too much adult activity/material/experience. Perhaps counterintuitively, that seems to arrest their development and maturation in many cases rather than make them wise beyond their years. The only way I've discovered these girls to be wise beyond their years is in knowing ALL the tricks of the trade in how to seduce boys, sneak out at night, get their way and so forth.

But there is more of that maturity in "Celeste" than the other two put together, I think, and they're both older than her. We just need to try to coax it out and provide the right kind of environment, opportunity and expectations. I think she'll be alright here. I really do.

A short note: on the flipside, "Tammy" is beginning to show a bit more immaturity than I had credited her with--but just a bit. I think most of it is that she is very, very, very much more a follower than a leader, and "Jill" is a born leader/rabble-rouser. We are providing foster care to the freakin' Pied Piper, and "Tammy" is just itching to follow her out of the village and down the road.

Note to self: pick up a set of chains for "Tammy" with the next paycheck.

All in all, this is what we envisioned when we started this mess. It's incredibly interesting, and nerve-wracking. One minute I feel like I'm on top of things, and the next minute I feel so completely out of my depth I want to either scream or go hide. But I can feel my abilities and horizons expanding, and it's fun to watch The Wife gradually get a handle on the situation and begin to assert herself with somebody. Somebody besides me.

Come to think of it, that was one of the draws in fostering for me when my parents did it: somebody else around to draw some of Mom's fire. And life goes full circle once again.

I love my life.