Not Just a Crush

I fell in love this morning; completely, totally, head-over-heels in love. This isn't just a passing infatuation or a school-girl crush, but the real thing. And it is not with a male, but a female, which totally goes against the grain for me. Just totally. But this girl, oh. If you could SEE her, you would know exactly what I am talking about, and the line would be forming to become the object of her affections.


The problem? She is 18 months old. Jacquie (daycare provider/close friend extraordinaire) has a new family, though it isn't a family in the "traditional" sense of the word. Mom is actually not mom, but a foster mom, so "her" children come and go fairly regularly. Right now she has a 5week old baby who is going to be adopted by a family member, and they are just waiting for said family member to be fingerprinted and have a background check so she isn't going to be there long. And then there are two little girls, sisters, one black and one white, and it was the youngest one with whom I fell in love. She isn't especially pretty, but very compelling. And I was talking to her, telling her how pretty she is and just talking like you do to little ones, and she ran up to me and lifted her arms toward me, asking to be picked up. Of course I did, and she just grabbed on and laid her little head on my shoulders as if she belonged to. I stood there and held her with Owen looking on in disgust, crying-because how can anyone give his up? How can anyone deny this little girl (and her sister, who is as cute as cute can be, but also much more standoffish; she has reason to be wary of adults, I am sure!) the love and caring she so deserves, and obviously craves?

I can't pretend to know anything about their circumstances, or why they were taken from their mother and are now in foster care hoping to get adopted. But I have been around long enough to know that for parental rights to have been terminated, things had to have been pretty bad. They have been with this foster mom for about 6 months or so, which is GOOD ( I know this mom, and she is SO great!), but it just sucks that their little lives have already been in such turmoil.

God, I want her. Them. I know myself well enough to know that for a million and one reasons, it is neither possible nor practical, and that it is at this point in my life not even something I should be thinking about, wistfully or otherwise. I am also self-aware enough to know that I am a caretaker and I want to save everyone, and that my emotions were heightened this morning by the fact that school started and not one of my kids needed me to go in with them-they are outgrowing me, and of course that is bittersweet. So yeah, I am not stupid, I understand about transference and the desire to replace the children growing away with younger ones in order to feel loved and needed. I also know that I am struggling with the knowledge that Owen is, in fact, the last child I will ever have. So many different things combined this morning to contribute to this feeling!

It is strange, though, to be so drawn to a child, and equally strange to have one so drawn to me. I don't as a rule enjoy other people's children, and though I talk to them when I drop Owen off, it is NOT in my nature to want to pick them up. In fact, Owen has been going there for over a year and I can say with certainty that I have never picked up a single child there. So this little chickadee has something special, and I hope there is someone out there who sees her and her sister and falls in love just like I did. I hope there is someone out there who takes one look and decides to move heaven and earth to get these girls, to give the baby some love and to help that haunted, distrustful look to fade from the older one's eyes. I hope....

The Fat Cop is in Trouble!

Before you read any further, please know that it was a false alarm. We think.

We have replaced both dogs that were stolen, with the dog about which I blogged yesterday (though I found out two rather annoying traits about Harley-she has no compunction about walking up to Owen and very delicately taking whatever type of food he might be holding in his hand, AND this morning Owen pooed on the floor we are beginning potty training thankyouverymuch and before I could get the cleaner she had cleaned it up for me. With her tongue) and the 6-ish month old mutt that Eli procured. My baby is an inside dog, mostly, and his little girl is an outside dog, mostly. Sweet little thing, quiet, already fetches, good dog. So last night at about 11:30, she started barking. It started out sporadically, and I thought, "Oh, great, we have a barker!" but then increased in both volume and urgency until it made me nervous; keep in mind that until then I had not heard a single peep out of her. Not even a whine. So by that time my baby was up and pacing and whining, Hannah was up, and we were creeping around our house with our bats and pepper spray like crazy-ass Ninjas. Then we both saw a flash of light that looked like a flashlight, so I said to hell with it and called the cops. They were already in the area so even while I was still on the phone with dispatch, the first car arrived, and within minutes two more had gotten there.

Turns out it was my neighbor coming home from work late. It was his dome light that Hannah and I both saw, and the poor man was just getting out of his car when the cop came and spotlighted him and ran his plates and stuff (that'll teach him to not trade in his car on something different, as we all knew the old car!). They very thoroughly checked everything out, and did not at all make me feel like an idiot. Also, one of the guys responding actually knew what was going on, so I didn't have to go through the whole story again. The other one with him did not-he has been on vacation and was told a little bit about it as they were responding to the call, but did not know any more than the basics. So we were talking and I told him that I was really reluctant to call and report anything after the last contact I had with the police when I got the threatening call, and BOTH their ears perked right up. "WHAT threatening call?" they both said, so I told them about the verbal threat AND the hang-up, and how the policeman who came to "take my report" was such an ass, and on and on. The one guy listened very closely, asked me when he came to the office and what he looked like and which car he drives, etc...(I hope it doesn't count against me that I said ,"Well, he isn't as old as I am but isn't as young as you guys, he is tall and fat and looks stupid..") And then the one said, "Well, I am the shift supervisor and this WILL be addressed. He never even made a report on this and since this is an ongoing investigation, EVERYTHING needs to be put on a report." He also 'fessed up and said that the reason he didn't know anything about the situation was because he got back from vacation and didn't read the back reports like they are supposed to-he gets major brownie points for honesty and accepting responsibility.

Sorry-I digress. Turns out that talking to the phone company is NOT, in fact, my responsibility (even though I did find out yesterday that there is a way to do it, for a fee, and the trace is forwarded to law enforcement), that Fat Fuck should have gone right to the phone company and apprised them of the sitch, as well as given me paperwork to fill out that would authorize my phone records to be turned over to the police. That's it. No song and dance, no major courtroom drama (and who, I might ask, is the one who watches too much TV? Not me, that is for damn sure!) debating the legality of it, just-paperwork. Young Cop said that even if the phone company policy requires a subpoena, it is just more paperwork. They are going to be bringing by some forms for me to fill out today, and will beef up patrols again in the 'hood over the weekend just in case it WAS CSG. Both assured me, though, that our area is still being patrolled more regularly than in the past, they are just going to up it a little more.

And hey guys, I might talk all tough on the blog, and I know I was all like, "I am not going to call the cops for anything anymore because they don't do anything," and I think it was Mr. Lady who told me to suck it up or something to that effect, and I listened. Because you are all right, it is foolish and stupid of me to take one bad experience with one ignorant policeman and let it make me refuse to call. It does me nor my kids any good to take the old-West attitude that I can do it myself. I can't; I am tough and mean and could maybe, just maybe kick some ass if necessary, but in this case? I cannot defend my entire family on my own, and I am no longer going to feel too embarrassed or foolish or hysterical to call the police if I need to. With any luck, I won't need to again.

Topicless Post

I got a new bra. Well, I got a new to me bra-so yeah, I am so wearing someone else's undergarments. But she JUST bought it, after having been fitted for it and everything, got it home and wore it once and couldn't stand it. So she washed it and passed it on to me. I am glad-I love it. I am wearing a white t-shirt today and damn, my boobs look GOOD, if I do say so myself. I HATE shopping for bras-I always end up in tears because nothing ever fits right, or they are old-lady bras, whatever. So this one I got is wonderful; I love it. It FITS! So I go look online and of course the ONE bra that I have found that I REALLY like costs $50.00. Life is so not fair.

And speaking of boobs and life being unfair: if I won the lottery, one of the first things I would do would be to make an appointment to get a reduction. Seriously. But I have never, ever once heard a man complain because his junk is too big. Or that he would just lop off a couple of inches if he could afford to. God has a freaky-ass sense of humor.

I have a Bad-Mom confession today, too. I let Owen get in the shower with me this morning because I thought he probably needed a bath; the stench emanating off of his sagging-to-his-knees diaper and the pear juice in his hair from his after-dinner snack last night had nothing to do with it-I just thought it was time. Since the last time I clearly remember giving him a bath was Monday night. So I get out of the shower and give him the detachable shower head to play with while I towel off and grab his shampoo. No shampoo. It is ALWAYS in the same place so I can just grab it off the counter. Gone. So was furiously looking around, searching for the damn $9.00 a bottle shampoo, nowhere. And then I remembered that I packed it in the bag for Steve to take with him when he took Owen. Last week. So this toddler has been IN a bath, he just hasn't been, you know, WASHED in going on a week. I suck. I slathered him with sweet lotion and pretended he was French before taking him to daycare. And after work I will have to find the damn shampoo.

Just reading the paper and found out that a kid was shot in Tennessee at school-some kind of a dispute between two young boys that ended up with one of them dead. This shit? It pisses me off. It scares me. It makes me wonder why kids think that it is okay to resolve a problem using a fucking gun. And while I hold the child responsible-and yes, a 14 year old is a child, sorry!-I also can't help but question what kind of parents the killer might have in order to instill in him the belief that shooting someone is acceptable and reasonable. No, it isn't their fault, but isn't there some culpability there? I don't know the answer to that. This just disgusts me to no end. I look at my 14 year old and cannot imagine killing a person being in his thought processes- I can't imagine that it would seem to him a reasonable thing to do. One if his former friends? Yeah-I can totally see it. Totally. In fact, this particular former friend scares the shit out of me-at 14. There is a REASON he is no longer welcome at our house. Anyway, I look at his lifestyle, HIS parents, and he comes from your typical two-parent, fairly affluent though not rich family, the kind of family that looks really great from the outside, but...I just don't know. It boggles the mind.

My 14 year old has Freshman Orientation tomorrow, and then all three kids start school on Monday. I seriously can't wait. Because the fighting and bickering and pestering is totally out.of.control.

There you go; just some little tidbits to start the day. No drama, no major happenings, other than that I found a way to get the calls traced so will go over the the phone company and cop shop later this afternoon or tomorrow morning, depending on my schedule. Yes, I am TOTALLY doing their job-do you think I can get a little sumpin' sumpin' for it?

We Got Her!

It's a good day; the interview last night was a resounding success, and we got to bring the dog home with us. She is called Harley (which I think is a stupid name for a dog, plus Steve's dog is called Hallie so it is slightly confusing, but since it has been her name for years, I don't guess we can change it), and is absolutely gorgeous. She is a purebred Yellow Lab, and even has the papers to prove it, though she can't have babies and has never been shown, so they don't mean anything to US. What does matter is that she is exactly what I have been looking for since I had to put my other dog down. Beauty is as beauty does-her looks are just a bonus. What I was looking for is an older, already-house-trained, used to kids and cats, mellow dog-and here she is.

For those who don't know, there was a legitimate reason for having our other dog put down. She was a very beloved family pet, a stunning and good-natured lab/retriever mix, whom we had had since she was 6 months old. She did everything with is, went everywhere possible with us, slept in or on someones bed every night...until Owen came along. She didn't much care for him, didn't much care for the extra attention he was getting, even though we thought we gave her extra love to make up for it. We never left them alone together, especially after Owen started crawling, because while I still wouldn't call her at all aggressive, she made clear her dislike of him. And one day she bit him. It all happened so fast that I am even now not sure what exactly transpired; we were all there in the living room, Owen was crawling across the floor, and next thing was her snarling and biting. She got him right by the eye and mouth, punctured the skin, and bruised his head up pretty badly, and we are grateful to this day that it wasn't worse. He healed quickly, with no scarring or anything, and he still has his eye-good enough. But even though it was an isolated incident, and she was very aware that she had fucked up, I couldn't keep her around. Nor could I in good conscience give her to someone I knew, because anyone who might want her also had kids. And if I had taken her to the pound, I would have been forced to be honest and disclose why we had to get rid of her, at which point they would just put her down, no questions asked. I know that in bigger places it isn't the first option, but here, where we have such limited space and no funding, biters don't get placed. Anyway, THAT is why I had to make the decision I did, and even though I was royally pissed at her for biting the baby, I was still devastated. The kids were devastated. All of us stood outside the Animal Control truck and sobbed as Maya jumped in the back eagerly, thinking she was going for a ride.

We got Ellie, you all know, hoping that she would become a family pet, but she didn't. Instead, she had puppies and seemed perfectly content to just hang out in the back yard. She did not ever really warm up to us, and had she not been taken, I would not have kept her. I would have found someone who had no kids and no spouse and a LOT of time to devote to just her. So I was sad that she hadn't ever really progressed beyond letting us pet her; she didn't play at all, hated being in the house, and basically just tolerated her.

But now he have a dog. A real pet, who immediately walked into the house and headed for the back door to go pee, then came back in, sniffed around and paced for a little while, then flopped onto the living room floor as if she had always been there. She slept quietly most of the night, getting up only a few times to walk into the boys' room and check things out there. When she needed to pee at 4:30 this morning, she woke me up by licking my hand, and when it was time for me to get up for work, there she was, excited to be up and around with me. This is what our home has been missing-the thump of a tail on the floor, the friendly little nudge when it is time to get up, the exuberant licks of someone happy to see us. We have been missing the live rug that we get to put our feet on in the winter, and the friend who will jump right in the water after us when we go swimming. We see Steve's dog a lot, and she is also part of the family, but this one? She is ours. Mine.

So yeah-you guys must have put out some powerful energy because we got her, and I am so, so thrilled.

***I forgot to add that her previous owner told us that as a rule, she doesn't bark. So if she DOES, we had better get up and investigate WHY because there is a reason. In response to THOPGood, too, this sweetie is not sleeping outside. Period. The added safety factor for us is nice, but also? No way am I tkaing a change on CSG hurting her. Nope.***

If God IS There...

Yeah, yeah, another double post. But we have an "interview" tonight with a lady about a dog. She is an 8 year old Golden Lab, already spayed and registered, LOVES kids (which is why she is getting rid of her, she no longer has kids at home and the dog is suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome), ignores cats, is completely housebroken and is used to sleeping outside in a doghouse. I want this dog. This is exactly what I am looking for in a dog. And while i am not averse to still getting another puppy for Eli, I want this dog for ME.

So: cross your fingers, say a prayer, send me some of your good juju, whatever, that I get this dog. That I pass the interview with flying colors and she bows down and says, "YES! You are the owner I have been looking for!" I am NOT going to mention that our most recent dogs got ripped off-not going to mess with the Karma. I AM going to give her the Sad Story (which actually IS sad) about how we had to have our beloved family dog put down because she bit the baby; I may even be able to squeeze out a few tears. I heard that some people get all tenderhearted and gooey when they see tears, even though it has never worked for ME. I really want this.

Wish me luck. And tell me, despite the fact that our other dogs got stolen and that we have this CSG around who might possibly harm said dog, and the fact that I will give her table scraps and let her sleep on my bed (as soon as I GET a bed), would YOU give me a dog? Would I pass YOUR interview?

Home Alone-Kind Of

I had to spend my first night at home with just the younger boys last night. Ever since the first CSG incident, I have managed to make sure at least one of the older kids were at home, thinking that if I am, in fact, the target, that CSG would be less likely to make another appearance if he knew I wasn't entirely alone. However, due to a couple of different things that cropped up, both Hannah and Eli were gone overnight so it was just myself, my 9 year old, and the 2 year old. To say that it was a bad night is a gross understatement, yet we made it through. Who needs sleep, right? Certainly not THIS mama, and whether I need it or not is irrelevant; I think I can safely assume that the resumption of normal activities for the kids will result in far more sleepless nights. Nothing happened, obviously, and for that I am grateful; it is the being worried that something will that has me completely fucked up. See, at least if one of the older kids is home, I have some additional help-not so much in fending off CSG, but in making sure the little boys are safe. We have a plan or two in place in case something happens, and both of those plans pretty much rely on an extra set of adult (or at least teen) hands in order for them to work.

I did try to make other arrangements last night in order to have a bit more peace of mind. I called Steve and asked him if the younger boys and I could stay the night at his house, but that obviously did not happen. In one conversation, I was reminded forcibly that he has no obligation to me, that I am a shitty parent for allowing both kids to be gone at the same time, and that I am a pussy for being afraid. Talk about lovely. I know he has no obligation to me, emotional or otherwise, but silly me, the way things have been going the last few months, I thought that I had some good basis for thinking that things were changing. Apparently I was wrong. This doesn't crush me, as even though things have been getting better I have not allowed myself the real luxury of hope, but it does still hurt. He made a couple of comments about how it was unreasonable for me to expect HIM to be put out when there is no reason I can't make one of the older kids stay home in order to make me feel safe, that it isn't his responsibility. And while I didn't SAY it, what I was thinking was, "Oh, right, I forgot, it IS the responsibility of my 14 and 15 year old children to protect us. Right."

The thing is, he is RIGHT. It isn't his responsibility, nor is it Jacquie's, nor is it my kids'. No, the responsibility rests solely on ME, as the only adult in the household. And I can bitch and moan about how much it sucks, and I can lay blame on him for being cold and uncaring, but it ISN'T his problem. It is MINE. The thing about it all is that I now feel completely isolated on this now. Two weeks ago, I was under the mistaken impression that the cops gave a fuck, but I was wrong about that. Now this one other avenue of support has been taken away from me, and while there is still Jacquie and Jim, of course, who do their drive-bys late at night to make sure all is well, this can only go on for so long. My neighbors-well. Their reaction (or lack of) the night it happened, and after subsequent events, shows me that while they talk a good talk, when push comes to shove they are SO not there. I AM alone in this, and it fucking sucks. I know now that to call the police is futile unless there is actually someone physically breaking in to my house-the phone calls, the missing dogs, the tampered mail-totally not taken seriously.

And this is another thing that totally bites, that for the first time in a long time I feel like I NEED a man. Isn't it stupid and insane to feel safer with someone with testicles around? Like Steve pointed out, it sure didn't help the wife of the man who was killed to have a man around; the killer just took him out first (did I mention that he was only hit TWICE with a bat? Sheee-it!) and then beat the shit out of her. I don't know why it is, but even having Eli around helps-but it ISN'T his job.

I am just feeling a little crazy, and am trying to get myself MAD so that the fear does not paralyze me. I know that I can't keep my kids home with me in order to keep me safe; it isn't healthy for any of us, because it is piling adult responsibility on kids' shoulders. And I want them to be able to resume their normal lives-but I would be lying out my ass if I didn't say that every second they are gone, I am worried until they get back home. I don't know. I just feel like I have hit a wall here, and I don't know where to go from here!

Another Inch Taller

My 14 year old son came back from his dad's with an elecrtic shaver and an additional inch of height. He now towers over me by an amazing-yet-disgusting 8 inches. 8. I can see my authority over him waning with every inch he grows, and fear that soon he will be ordering me around as if I am his personal servant. Of course, there is still the fear factor, which I will continue to take advantage of as long as I can. I am not sure I am prepared to be the mother of teen boys; I have gotten him several rather graphic sex-ed books (not graphic in the sense of porn, that is a whole different post that I am not even close to writing about yet!) that seemed to pretty clearly and correctly explain different things, and I offered to go over anything with him if needed-this was last year, and he very politely and shamefacedly declined-and God help me, I was a little bit GLAD. We have talked about such things as condoms and STD's and a variety of other things, but I can't help worrying about what he might ask me, or worse, how I might respond. Yikes.

I went home on break to see how the boys were faring (just this once, Eli stayed home with both Owen and Sam; tomorrow will be back to daycare like normal but O. was really, really missing his big brother!), and while I was there a friend on his stopped by. His name is J., and is one of those huge, lurking boys whose nose and feet are HUGE. He is tall and gangly and has that clumsy, goofy look of a boy who just doesn't know what to do with himself. I can't quite decide whether I like this boy or not, and his shirt today just left me more in the dark. It said, "Viagra is for pussies." Which, okay, that is funny, and I understand the appeal to a 14 year old boy. But still. What was his mom thinking? J. has spent a lot of time at the house, and he isn't a bad kid by any means-I think part of the reason I am not sure I like him is because he is so huge. He also says some things about what kind of a driver he is going to be, and the kinds of girls he is going to date, and while part of me thinks, "Keep dreaming, big guy," the other part hopes that his attitudes don't rub off on Eli. I know well that boys of that age are basically just a walking touch-guy hormone, and I am not naive enough to think that my Eli is any different, but it is still a little daunting to think that he is like J. That he has the same idea about life and women and fast cars and, let's face it, says things like pussy and lusts over young girls.

So I am feeling a little strange, and slightly out of my league. I know I have posted about this before, but it bears repeating that at this point, and because of our circumstances, Eli is well aware of the consequences of sex, and knows that even if she tells him he doesn't need to wear a condom, he should. He has been raised solely by me for over 14 years now, and he knows how hard it is-he doesn't want to become the kind of father his dad and step-dad have been. He doesn't want his own kids to grow up feeling the way he has about his dad, and he doesn't want them to have so many struggles. These are GOOD things for him to learn and know about himself, though for his sake I might wish the lessons had been less difficult for him.

And he is still a 14 year old boy; there are lots of years ahead of him, where he is going to be exposed to a plethora of different ideas and feelings and people. I could be in for a lot of trouble, it is too soon to tell. I just hope I can be the kind of mom he NEEDS when he starts having things crop up that he doesn't know how to deal with. I hope he keeps his strong mindset and opinions. I hope-well. I hope we make it.