Can't make this stuff up

Yesterday I was sitting on the couch talking to a friend on the phone when some guy stepped out of my woods. Really it is more like a privacy hedge. There is a mulberry tree, an oak tree, a couple of poplar trees, and some privet. On the other side of this is a field. We have full-on woods behind our house, but in front it is just a row of trees to distinguish between our yard and the field. The kids play in there without supervision. They have little trails made and they enter the "woods" from our yard and go through to the field and down to the driveway, back into our yard, and through it all again. They call it "hiking in the woods" and "going on an adventure" they also "look for dinosaurs". Now I just feel compelled to open fire on the tree line before letting the kids go play out there. I'll call it Meth Head Hunting. Or Trespassers Beware, the Redneck Version.

Anyway, some guy with jeans and white tank top steps out of the tree line. He was carrying an orange shirt. Once he stepped out of the woods, he turned and stared into the woods like he was waiting on something. Maybe waiting on the tree to tell him a secret. I gave him a few minutes and then I yelled at him to see what in the hell he was doing here. He replied that he got lost and just lived "over that way" as he motioned to the right. To my aunts house, where I knew he didn't live. There is another neighbor over there who is known for druggie behavior and skanky friends, so I assumed he meant there. I told him he needed to get off my property and he began walking in the opposite direction of where he said he lived. At one point he started to walk back into the woods, but he kept going to the driveway. I called my sister to let her know some guy was coming down the driveway and to see if she knew who he was. She didn't but asked his name. He said Joey, but really? Would you give your real name if you were doing something sketchy? By that time he had put his orange shirt on and it said County Jail. I called the police dispatch # and asked if they had an escaped inmate, she replied "I haven't been notified of any" but offered to send a police officer out to my house. I said no because the guy was already walking down the road at that point and by the time the police arrived, the guy could already be miles away.

My sister had walked down to my house earlier in the day and she said she kept hearing clanking noises near the mulberry tree but she couldn't discern if they were from the neighbor's house or maybe something in her head (she suffers from schizophrenia). I suppose the clanking noise could have been handcuffs, but the police didn't seem to be missing any inmates.

Fast forward three hours. Yes, THREE HOURS, and the police began driving up and down our road flashing their blue lights.

Whiteboard Art, Part 2

More of The Daughter's dry erase board drawings.

Caucasian

That's what Jenny is listed as on her intake paperwork which she was recently reading over while she was supposed to be putting a copy of her ISP in the file. I would have never known she was reading all the paperwork if she hadn't of came to me crying "I'm Caucasian?". When I realized what she was saying, I couldn't help but to laugh, which wasn't the right thing to do as she just cried harder. Through her snotty sobs, she said "Why didn't anyone tell meeeeee? I never knew I was Caucasian!" said with disgust. Yeah, YOU try to have this conversation straight faced.

Me: What exactly do you think Caucasian means?
Her: I think it means ... I'm ah ... Uhh ... Caucasian is ... I don't know ... You know ... not from here?
Me: It means you're white. You a white girl. Pasty. Honky. Privileged just by the color of your skin.
Her: What's privileged mean?
Me: I thought you had been reading my MS magazines?
Her: I have. I read the articles that interest me.

And so when she got her ugly cry over with, we had a long discussion about race and prejudice and oppression and human rights and why she thinks the way she does. What is the basis of her bigotry and how she might ask herself questions to overcome that thought process. It's usually a bias passed down from parents and influenced by the local culture which is rich in religion inspired patriarchy. I've had similar conversations with almost every teenager we've fostered and it never stops being frustrating. At least this time, there was a tad bit of laughter involved.

Taking a ride on the magic wand

As promised, here is the much anticipated post about my ride on the magic wand. I'm sure you all have been awaiting this post with bated breath. For all you fertile people out there who have never had the luxury of paying $150 to become acquainted with the Magic Wand at your OBGYN's office, it's like a Pink Rabbit but without the fun.


See a couple of months ago I started feeling bloated and fatigued and was waking up several times during the night to pee and would find myself soaked from sweat. I gained 20 pounds in less than 2 months. My normally oily face went dry. My normally hairy self was able to go weeks without shaving and nobody could even tell. My lips would crack and bleed when I smiled. Which wasn't often because I felt dead inside. Then my face began to swell, and my hands and feet got as big as sausages. Basically it was like being 9 months pregnant but without the baby. I went 64 days without a period and was developing toxemia.

During this time I was getting a physical for life insurance and my blood pressure was high. It is NEVER high. Darwin and I like to compete to see who can have the best BP and I ALWAYS win. Always. I had protein in my urine and my sugar was off the charts. Thankfully they rescheduled my physical and I was able to qualify for life insurance later on.

When I finally decided it was bad enough to see the doctor, I called to make an appointment and they couldn't see me right away. I waited and waited and waited. Then I finally got my period and I started to feel somewhat better. It only lasted 3 days though so I didn't feel the relief that I normally do. And I didn't loose any weight.

At my OBGYN appointment, I was already on cycle day 24 so all my blood work came back showing that I was about to get my period. It does this every time, only I never actually get my period. You can test my blood every day from CD 20ish through to CD 50ish and it will look the same ... as though I am about to get my period "any day now" as my doctor likes to say. He thought I might be perimenopausal so he checked for that as well. Turns out, it's just my PCOS doing its thing.

So even though I would rather take Metformin and Provera, my doc wants me to try a different kind of birth control pill to see if that will work. Because you know, what could be more fun for an infertile person than taking medication to stop being fertile. Oh, irony how I adore thee. Most BC pills make me bleed during the active days and stop during the placebo days. It is not fun. I begged to just cut it all out & get rid of it. Slice me open and chop out all those uncooperative bits. My girly parts don't work, they are cancer susceptible and just taking up space, so get it out of there already. But he won't do it yet.

Then Medco didn't send me the provera to start my period so I could then take the BC pills. Weeks went by and I called the OBGYN again to get them to re-fax my Rx. More weeks went by and I am still waiting on the provera. And now, I'm on cycle day 47. Days 20 through 35 were fun. I had the hormones of a teenage boy, if you know what I mean. Days 35ish through 40ish I felt agitated and just wanted to fight. Now my lips are getting dry again and no amount of chapstick helps. Can't wait to see what cycle day 50 plus brings.

Here's a pic of my "babies". It's your consolation prize for making it through this post with way too much information. Enjoy.

Ovaries are 11cm
Each cyst (those black spots) is around 5cm

A six month difference

BabyGirl

in

December 2009

and

June 2010

A Lesson in Empathy

Jenny recently spent a week at sleep away camp where there were no phone calls or visits allowed. I missed her like mad. We all did. Each day I wished I could just call and see what fun thing she was getting to do at camp. Each night I would walk by her room and ache to hug her and say goodnight. And I couldn't help but to think how much harder it must be for her mom who carried her for 9 months and raised her for 15 years. How hard it has been these past 3 months for her mom to not get to tuck Jenny into bed each night. To not get to hug her spontaneously or share a laugh over an inside joke. Or watch their soaps together. Or do all the family routines that they've set up over the years. Or be together on holidays. So I called Jenny's mom and she called me and we both counted down the days until Jenny came home from camp. Jenny got a little stronger, a little more independent. Her mom and I got a little closer. And I? I learned a lesson in empathy.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

BabyBoy's hair was getting so long I was tempted to put hairbows in it. I had to hold him down for the haircut, it was awful, but he can walk around now without doing that Justin Bieber head flip thing.

Before


After

Whiteboard Art

The Daughter, who is 6, loves to draw with Dry Erase Markers. I should probably buy her a larger board, but this one is portable and therefore great for road trips.

Uh Oh Cheerio

Seems one of the kids, presumably BabyBoy, has been feeding their Cheerios to the dolls.

Lost a follower

After my last post, I lost a follower. They must have been offended that we ate at BK two days in a row.

Things I would have tweeted if I had a Twitter account

While I don't tweet, I do read other people's tweets, and often hijack the comment section of their blog to reply to their latest tweet. In my head right now I'm going "Chirp, Chirp" because I'm neurotic like that. So anyway, until I get off my ass and open a Twitter account, I'll just dump my stuff here. These are real text messages from me to people who are kind enough to not block my number.

******

Just bought a .32 b'cause my 9mm wouldn't fit in my bra. Don't laugh! I'm southern, everything gets stored in there. Lift my left tit and you'll find half a sandwich.

******

OMG Father WhatAWaste is at WalMart! Trying not to think dirty thoughts.

Damn he's HOT.

We could fuck in the confession booth. How many Hail Marys would I have to say for that? I mean, if I were even Catholic.

******

Was just pumping gas and some guy ran out of the store screaming "The Po Po's a comin! The Po Po's a comin!" I swear he didn't have any teeth.

******

Bought the exact same thing at Burger King yesterday and it cost $19.76 but today it cost $18.68 WTF?

******

To be continued

Last night the vehicle was gone by the time the police got here. I could not see inside the vehicle and therefore can't confirm who it was. The police were having a hard time finding our house. We don't have numbers on our mailbox and we live way off the road. The police officer chastised me for that, for not having numbers on the mailbox, but he did tell me that since I live "out in the boonies" that he would recommend I shoot first and ask questions later if anyone is attempting to invade our home. Actually he said I could shoot intruders if they were anywhere on my property. So I could, like totally, sniper their ass from way back here as soon as they pull into the driveway. The police are patrolling this area several times per night now.

Silence during the day today, but as I was putting the kids to bed tonight the text messages started to come in again.

"They put BirthMom in the hospital for having a break down thanks to you all she wants is to see her kids something you said you would not keep from her and im madder as hell with you"

"Do NOT contact me again. I said you guys had to be stable, and you aren't. I also said I wouldn't tolerate threats or harassment. You continue to do both. Leave us alone."

"We are stable we done in our new place with power and both working what more you wont?"

I didn't reply. I've told them over and over and OVER that they have to be stable for 6 months. That means working the same job for a whole six months. They have to have a place to live with electricity and water. They have to have a mode of transportation that isn't me and my vehicle. They have to have food and clothing so that they don't ask me for those items. They have to be drug free for the entire 6 months. And they have to have respectful conversations and honor our boundaries.

It has been almost 2 months since we last had a visit. BirthDad was unemployed at the time though he claimed he had a fabulous job as soon as the restaurant opened up. They said they had their own place but come to find out, they were sleeping on a friends couch. They violated boundaries. Then a few days later started asking for money, calling crying saying they needed money to get gas in order to get to work. BirthDad had just gotten out of jail for burning down a few trailers in a meth making accident. They claimed they didn't violate any boundaries.

So here we are, with them thinking they are stable even though BirthMom allegedly had a mental breakdown. My guess is that she went to the ER crying and got a Rx for some kind of pills that they can sell for money. Or so they can take them and get high. Either way, they've been in their own place for a week or so, which isn't long enough to establish proof of stability.

But BirthDad wants to do a visit. I don't think he realizes that he is destroying any chance that he did have to see the kids by acting this way. Tomorrow the legal fun begins.

Never a Dull Moment

Guess who just had to call police? Yep, me. Bet you'll never guess why. Or maybe you will. Birth Parents. I am afraid to sleep. Afraid to walk through the house. Afraid to turn on lights. Afraid to set the gun down long enough to type this post.

They have been sending text messages just about every day asking for a visit. I told them 6 months of stability and then we will discuss the possibility of having another visit. So I haven't been replying to all these other messages. I shouldn't have to keep saying the same thing over and over and over. They sent a text saying that there place was almost finished so could they see the kids. I was very clear about what I considered stability, and they are not there yet. Then today they sent several messages saying they are in my city and want to see the kids. I didn't reply. We ate cake. We shot fireworks. We swam in the pool by moon and candle light. Then we went to bed. Around midnight birth parents sent the following text:

"You said you would never keep the kids from us but i guess that was a lie so you could have your way well its not gonna work with me you done pissed me off but have a nice day anyway :-)"

And then I heard something and looked out my bedroom window and there sat a car. An unknown car.

Happy 4th

Today is my birthday. I turned 34. Some of you are probably thinking "What? I thought she was older than that!" and some are thinking "What? I thought she was younger than that!" This year my body has aged a great deal. Last year when I was out with my teenage foster kids, people would think we were sisters, this year people started calling me grandma. True story! The nurse at the pediatrician kept calling me grandma to BabyGirl and mom to Jenny even after I repeatedly corrected him. The guy who made copies of my keys at Wally World said he could tell I was either Jenny's mom or grandmother because we look so much alike. Maybe it was all the stress. Maybe it's genetic. Either way my plastic surgeon will be able to retire off all the money I pay him in the upcoming years.

Because my family is still camping and Darwin is in Afghanistan, I'm feeling pretty lonely today. No presents unless you count letting the kids pick me out some cheap ass earrings at the store the other day. I wore them and said thank you, but they itch my ears. The Daughter cried because she wasn't going to be able to surprise me with a birthday present, so I gave her a few bucks for the earrings. Last year Darwin was in Iraq on my birthday and my family was probably doing the same thing they are this year. Boo freaking hoo, cry me a river.

I feel as though I'm at a crossroads right now and I'm trying to figure out which direction to go next. Is this like a birthday requisite or what?

Back From Camping

We are home early from camping. For several reasons really. I'm not a big fan of camping anyway, but go because the kids love it. There were only so many nights of sleeping on the ground that I could take before my body protested loudly. Several of us fought nightly over who would get to sleep in the hammock. The ONE night I actually won and got to the hammock first, a new family of campers moved in next to us and played movies all night long. All. Night. Long. Who the hell brings a big ass flat screen to the lake camping? I mean they were in a tent for fucks sake, so they put the flat screen up on a tree and positioned the beach chairs around it like they were facing mecca. I didn't get any sleep that night either, though my body was thankful to not be sloping down hill while lying on tree trunks and rocks.

Dad began to drink.

My mom complained that my kids wanted to sleep in the camper with her. Then she complained that they woke up too early. Then she complained when I refused to let my kids step foot in her camper. She complained when I disciplined my kids. She complained when I didn't discipline my kids. She complained that she wasn't getting any time to relax or go fishing. She complained when it started raining and we didn't wake her from her nap. She complained when I bathed one of my kids in a washtub at camp rather than taking them to the nasty community shower. She complained when I let one of my kids skip a day of showering.

Some cousins were also camping with us and two of the males were flirting with Jenny. Jenny was eating it up and flirting back. I didn't allow her to go out of my sight. My cousins thought I was being too controlling. They wanted me to let Jenny stay a few more nights without me there.

Other cousins came to the campsite bringing only booze and a few clothes. They kept making comments about the number of kids I have. "How many more are you gonna get?" and "You can't watch all four of them!"

My sister relapsed a while back. She had to go to the ER where the regular doctor took her off her medication! And her psychiatrist can't see her until next month. So her level of crazy right now is at an all time high. She was erratic and turned her anger on each of us in rapid cycles. She hit BabyBoy.

It rained three times. Once so bad it collapsed our tent and soaked all our clothing. It was almost 100 degrees several days (which is why i was letting my kids go inside my parents camper with the airconditioner). I was having to do daily runs for ice and groceries which wasn't so bad in the beginning because it gave me an opportunity to blog using my laptop, but then I had to take everyone's laundry (6 families worth) and all the kids with me because they "can't handle them anymore" and it ceased to be fun. When I returned I was told it was "less chaotic" without us there. And while we were gone, everyone else got their drink on 10 times worse than before, so we packed up and left. My sister too.

We had been home maybe 30 minutes when someone broke into my sister's house WITH HER IN IT. She calls me and police all the time because she thinks she sees someone outside her house, but this time there really was someone out there. They took the screen off the window and broke the glass. When they heard my sister scream, the guy took off running. This was in broad daylight but at a time that my sister normally visits an elderly friend and therefore wouldn't normally be home. So on our first day back home from camping, I spent the entire night getting up every 2 hours and walking around in the dark to check both her house and mine. Plus the kids are out of diapers, we need groceries, and the weather had decided to turn 20 degrees cooler. Good times.

Stay tuned for posts on camping with kids, getting old, and going for a ride on the magic wand.