Wednesday I took the kids and we went to the foster parent resource center to organize again. I was there for 7.5 hours but Darwin came to get the kids after he got off work. Thankfully there was another foster parent there who helped out for a few hours until she had to go pick up her kids from daycare.
Friday the kids and I went back and worked at the resource center for 4.5 hours. Well, technically the kids were only there for 2 hours because Darwin got off work early and came to get them. I wanted to get everything completed this week, but I just could not touch or inhale anymore rat poop. Just. Could. Not. I was going through the closet in the bathroom and it was piled high with old bags and boxes of clothing and shoes that had been donated. Some of which were mildewed/moldy from being stored in the bathroom for so long. When I ran across the garbage bag of well, garbage, I said ENOUGH and called it a day.
I was feeling very overwhelmed and was wishing more foster parents would come help. So when the phone rang last night around 9pm with a Case Worker asking if there was anything his preteen church group could do to help at the foster parent resource center, I was elated. They're coming out next week, 20 kids, to help me get that place completed!
Darwin & I spent last night ripping up the kitchen & dining room vinyl flooring, after removing all the furniture, appliances, and cabinets of course. Today we have to cut out the wet moldy parts of the floor and replace them (thankfully the wall didn't get wet therefore isn't moldy). I'm going to spray bleach everywhere, just in case, and after it dries we are putting down laminate flooring (the fake wood stuff). I would love to go ahead and paint the walls while we are at it but I don't think we'll have time. A guy is going to repair the refrigerator for $35.00 so that's a lot cheaper than buying a new one. Meanwhile the fridge is on the back deck, redneck style. At least it isn't full of beer*.
*Growing up in the rural south, it seemed that many people had beer refrigerators either on the porch or under the carport (a garage was a rich person luxury). We lived in a dry city meaning alcohol could not be purchased here. My dad, and many others, would drive over to a wet city and buy enough alcohol to stock their "beer fridge" so they wouldn't have to keep driving back and forth, you know, while drunk.
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