foster care, parenting

3 kids 3 cats not an instant of peace

It was a school night. It was one of those nights where you struggle to get everything done and all you want in the world is to lay your head on the pillow. We had the tutor and the behavioral specialist appointments in the house at the same time. Fiona (6) was destracted and not paying attention to the tutor. We had told her to sit in a solid chair (no wheels) and when she didn’t listen, the behavioral specialist told us to physically move her. She did that dead weight thing where kid’s muscles go completely loose and the body sags to the ground. The tutor wound up on the floor with her (god bless her!) and they did their sight words down there. Meanwhile, Mason was refusing to eat, instead interrupting both the tutor and the behavioral specialist at every point. The door bell rang and we got in trouble with the master’s association for having too many cars parked outside. My face went red and the behavioral specialist had to calm me down.

Finally, everyone leaves. I send the kids up to put pajamas on but no one is listening. I go upstairs, put their pajamas on, tuck them in, while Lucas is toddling around downstairs babbling away and Joe is sitting in his recliner. I finally close the bedroom doors only to see our overly friendly black cat squatting outside our bedroom door with clumps of poop popping out. I scold and give chase, watching the clumps pop out down the steps, across the living room and into the dining room. I yell, “Joe- poop” and continued for the cat. Joe yells “Lucas,” who had taken the moment to reach down and grab the ball of cat poo with one hand. Said hand was clasped just before reaching into his curious mouth. I grabbed the cat, threw her into the closet with the litter boxes and started picking up stinky brown balls that made a trail through out the two story house.

What a day!

foster care

What is was supposed to be

This was supposed to be a mommy blog. You know: Look at the cute things the kids did. Can you believe that actually happened? Are fourteen month olds supposed to be able to open the front door. What it actually is turning into is one big rant against the system.

What is parenting supposed to be? Tiring? Yes. Absolutely. You get up, get the kids ready for school. Pick them up from school/daycare/bus stop. Do homework. Eat dinner. Maybe go to the playground. Read a story, brush teeth and bed time. Instead parenting is nag, nag, nag, don’t sit on your brother, nag, nag, nag, eat your dinner or you are going to bed, did you want to go to the playground, don’t run behind that car! Go To Bed!!! This sounds like any tv sitcom. In our house, I feel like I’m the conductor and the kids are smashing on the drums twenty four seven.

Even good days are quickly over run by bad behavior, tears, and cranky over tired children that can’t get enough sleep no matter what I do.

Add in the appointments, the tutoring, the doctors, the teachers, caseworkers, guardian ad litems, and now attorney ad litems. We use an app called COZI to track all of our appointments. This weeks list makes me want to hide under my desk and never come out. Yesterday there was a conflict between an appointment with a doctor (that we knew about) and an appointment with an attorney that NO ONE told us about. And we got scolded because we did not attend.

How it’s supposed to be? We work as a team in the best interest of the child. I honestly think there should be help, especially for cases where kids have medical issues. The “system” staff is overworked, underpaid and a lot of times too scattered to know who is who and what is what. That team mentality doesn’t seem to happen too often. Each individual is working frantically to get the bare minimum done. There are definitely good people in the “system” and we have individuals who are a godsend to us. But a lot of times, it feels like we are banging our heads against a very strong wall.

Why continue, when kids, adults, and professionals exhibit bad behavior. Because those kids have so much potential and need someone to keep screaming at the top of their lungs, banging their head, and advocating for them.

Sorry for the rant.