The nursery is finally painted. A pale cream yellow and green. And today we finally had our blinds installed, white wood, so the room is starting to look like it has a purpose. The little crib looks lost in the room without any other furniture, but I know I'll get there. I'm just picky and anal about everything matching. Not matching like the entire bathroom collection matching, but an oak crib needs an oak dresser matching. I am fully aware this will take some time.
But it's started!
I find myself getting more excited as the days pass. I cannot wait to leave my job, although I know I will miss it. I will miss my work friends. I will miss the kids on my case load. I will miss the frightening way I find humor in things that aren't that funny. I will miss cursing a lot. After awhile, I'm sure I'll miss the purpose of it all, the responsibility of court, the control I have.
At my home visits, I am finding I spend more time asking about the day to day activities of the home. Trying to get a better idea of what I'm in for, what the system is like from the other side. I can honestly say the picture is not so pretty. Knowing so much could easily backfire. I already pity the case manager who places a child in my home. Especially if they are new.
Not much else happening. We go to CPR training tonight and half of our licensing class will most likely be there as well. We have one class to make-up next month, then we're finished with that part. We both have to go to the dr to get approved physically, a few odds and ends ppwk to wrap up.
My shower is next month and I'm looking forward to it. I'm more into giving then getting, so parties on my behalf make me uncomfortable. I don't like opening presents in front of others, but I know how much I enjoy seeing my friend's expressions when they open my gifts to them, and I'll keep that in mind now that the table is turned. And I really really hope I get a baby b/c I am going to have a crapload of stuff! If a 3 year old walks in here they will be really bored...
I finally made an appointment with the fertility doc. It's for April fools. I have already decided I'm going to walk in and tell him I'm pregnant with quads and plan to sue.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
Girl's Night Update
PROLOGUE:
There were 3 of us.... SIL, friend, me. I booked a hotel room close to the dance club I found online. I was excited to go to it because it appeared to be more alternative, which I like better then the techno crap we usually find.
CHAPTER ONE: We arrive at the hotel. Shithole. I fully expected to run into someone on my caseload. Extended stay. Should have been my first clue, but when on a budget and going for convenience, caution is thrown by the wayside. Oh well, we all say. None of us really care and it does add an element of interest we would not generally find at any ol' Motel 6.
CHAPTER TWO: We get ready. I am a fan of glamming it up a bit when I go out. Glitter-good. Jewelry-good. Cleavage-good. Lots and lots of make-up-good. Nails painted dark purple. Sparkle applied to face and the girls. Jewelry added for good measure.
CHAPTER THREE: We walk to the club. Not sure if we're going the right way b/c my dumb ass left the directions at home. We think we spot it. No.
THIS can not be it.
THIS is a hole in the wall next door to a Circle K.
Nuh uh.
THIS was it.
CHAPTER FOUR: I have entered the alternative mecca. Chics with black hair, short bangs, knee socks. Dudes with spiked hair, wallet chains, spiked denim jackets. The aroma of clove cigarettes, B.O. I look ridiculous. I feel ridiculous. I need some drinks.
CHAPTER FIVE: Discussion held, stay or go. Issue with going is the walk back to hotel, then having to drive to another part of town, then driving back. Plus it's already almost 12 so we've got 2 hours. Decide to drink and think. We stay. We drink. We dance. We no longer give a shit if we fit in. We have a good time.
CHAPTER SIX: We spend the night in the hole. Shooting the shit until 4AM, then tossing and turning, squinting against the light coming in the single window, trying to eek out a bit of sleep.
POST: All in a sad state, some more then others
(you know who you are).
But a fun night. And although I have learned to put up pictures, none of them will be posted to protect the identities of three drunk chics, myself included.
There were 3 of us.... SIL, friend, me. I booked a hotel room close to the dance club I found online. I was excited to go to it because it appeared to be more alternative, which I like better then the techno crap we usually find.
CHAPTER ONE: We arrive at the hotel. Shithole. I fully expected to run into someone on my caseload. Extended stay. Should have been my first clue, but when on a budget and going for convenience, caution is thrown by the wayside. Oh well, we all say. None of us really care and it does add an element of interest we would not generally find at any ol' Motel 6.
CHAPTER TWO: We get ready. I am a fan of glamming it up a bit when I go out. Glitter-good. Jewelry-good. Cleavage-good. Lots and lots of make-up-good. Nails painted dark purple. Sparkle applied to face and the girls. Jewelry added for good measure.
CHAPTER THREE: We walk to the club. Not sure if we're going the right way b/c my dumb ass left the directions at home. We think we spot it. No.
THIS can not be it.
THIS is a hole in the wall next door to a Circle K.
Nuh uh.
THIS was it.
CHAPTER FOUR: I have entered the alternative mecca. Chics with black hair, short bangs, knee socks. Dudes with spiked hair, wallet chains, spiked denim jackets. The aroma of clove cigarettes, B.O. I look ridiculous. I feel ridiculous. I need some drinks.
CHAPTER FIVE: Discussion held, stay or go. Issue with going is the walk back to hotel, then having to drive to another part of town, then driving back. Plus it's already almost 12 so we've got 2 hours. Decide to drink and think. We stay. We drink. We dance. We no longer give a shit if we fit in. We have a good time.
CHAPTER SIX: We spend the night in the hole. Shooting the shit until 4AM, then tossing and turning, squinting against the light coming in the single window, trying to eek out a bit of sleep.
POST: All in a sad state, some more then others
(you know who you are).
But a fun night. And although I have learned to put up pictures, none of them will be posted to protect the identities of three drunk chics, myself included.
Friday, March 16, 2007
St. Patrick's Day
As many of you know, the 17th is St. Patrick's Day. This is a serious holiday in my family. My father is first generation American, the rest of his family directly from the island.
My husband and I visited Ireland a few years ago. It was wonderful to meet some of my relatives and see where my father came from. We even visited the family home, where 3 generations were born.
Every year, I make corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes. Sometimes I whip up a loaf of Irish soda bread (usually just buy the damn thing at the store b/c while I CAN cook, I CANNOT bake).
This year will be different. My SIL is coming from San Fran for a girl weekend. She and I and one of my other friends will be going out dancing. I've rented a hotel room across the street from the club in preperation for a very jumbled walk back!
Girl's night is the time to dress like a diva, wear glitter, get our drink on, and pretend we're hot, young, single bitches again. Occasionally, we designate someone as the bachelorette and shamelesly solicit drinks all night! It's good clean mischief I suppose. We always have fun.
This is Veto, doing what I so lovingly refer to as his hooker pose. He's bigger then this now, but still finds the time to make sure he positions himself in such a way that everyone who enters the room knows if he's a boy or a girl.............
This is Veto playing with our friend's dog, Che Che. They are like brother and sister, always agrivating one another. They snarl and look ferocious, all the
My husband and I visited Ireland a few years ago. It was wonderful to meet some of my relatives and see where my father came from. We even visited the family home, where 3 generations were born.
Every year, I make corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes. Sometimes I whip up a loaf of Irish soda bread (usually just buy the damn thing at the store b/c while I CAN cook, I CANNOT bake).
This year will be different. My SIL is coming from San Fran for a girl weekend. She and I and one of my other friends will be going out dancing. I've rented a hotel room across the street from the club in preperation for a very jumbled walk back!
Girl's night is the time to dress like a diva, wear glitter, get our drink on, and pretend we're hot, young, single bitches again. Occasionally, we designate someone as the bachelorette and shamelesly solicit drinks all night! It's good clean mischief I suppose. We always have fun.
This is Veto, doing what I so lovingly refer to as his hooker pose. He's bigger then this now, but still finds the time to make sure he positions himself in such a way that everyone who enters the room knows if he's a boy or a girl.............
This is Veto playing with our friend's dog, Che Che. They are like brother and sister, always agrivating one another. They snarl and look ferocious, all the while tails a wagging. I LOVE this picture
b/c they look absolutely insane.
But here's the reality of the two of them~
Can you tell I'm just starting to figure out how to add pictures?
Can you tell I'm just starting to figure out how to add pictures?
Saturday, March 10, 2007
I experienced my first time watching my husband parent. We had our friend's boys over last weekend, Saturday to Sunday night. They are 6 & 8 and pretty good kids. So although it doesn't match directly with what we should expect with 3 and under, it was fun to witness.
I learned my husband is a yes man. Can we watch a movie? Yes. Can I have a fourth helping? Yes. Can we stay up late? Yes.
I learned I am the heavy. Well, ok. I already knew that. I am now referring to myself as the Boundary Queen. Sounds better~
But by Sunday, his yesses were fewer and 'honey what do you think' were more. There is hope yet.
The shower is scheduled and invite list prepared. I haven't gotten any further with the nursery or toddler rooms, although I had the boys working on an art project for the toddler room. Going with a fish theme so I took them to a craft store and we bought a paint by number underwater scene and another you complete with markers. Of course mr 8 year old is not into coloring anymore, so I ended up finishing most of the marker picture myself (which I admit was fun and I am 30 something and still like to color). These pictures will be framed and hung in the fishy room, as they were calling it.
When discussing the fishy room and what it's purpose would be, the boys had such very different viewpoints from which their questions derived. The 6 year old is very focused on other's viewpoints of himself, the more touch feely of the two. He asked if I thought the new babies would like him. He wanted to know if they would be his cousins, and if they would love him. 8 year old wanted to know about what adoption meant, and if we were getting a boy or a girl. If was a frequent discussion over the weekend and it was good talking about it on a child's level. It's sometimes easy to discuss with adults who already know what adoption means, and foster care, and understand we're not sure what's happening next or who will be coming through our door. To break it down to a child's level was much more difficult. It was a premonition of sorts on the conversation we will have with the children we adopt in the future.
I am starting to count down the days until I quit my job. After almost 7 years, I think it's time. I have a case in which I have been the case manager for the mother for 5 1/2 years, since she was removed from her mother's care at the age of 15. She was pregnant at the time and recently had her 4th child at the ripe old age of 20. I have had to remove each of them from her care, 2 of them twice after failed reunifications. Her rights have already been terminated as to her oldest girl, age 4, and she is doing really well in the foster/adopt home she's lived in since birth (with the exception of 3 months in which we tried and failed to reunify with bio-mom).
Things have been going well. I returned her 9 month old in December.
Last Saturday I received a call from the weekend team letting me know mom had her fourth and tested positive for meth. She reports she was stressed out b/c 9month old has been teething and crying all night and keeping her up and she's exhausted. Boyfriend works nights and sleeps all morning, so she feels alone. She took the opportunity to walk down the street, but meth and a pipe, and smoked a bowl and a half. This threw her into labor the following morning and she had a healthy baby girl. The silver lining is the baby tested negative and was not exposed.
So here we are 4 years later back at square one. I am exhausted. I am reminded how tedious this job can be, and no matter how good at it you are, the parents will make their own decisions.
I learned my husband is a yes man. Can we watch a movie? Yes. Can I have a fourth helping? Yes. Can we stay up late? Yes.
I learned I am the heavy. Well, ok. I already knew that. I am now referring to myself as the Boundary Queen. Sounds better~
But by Sunday, his yesses were fewer and 'honey what do you think' were more. There is hope yet.
The shower is scheduled and invite list prepared. I haven't gotten any further with the nursery or toddler rooms, although I had the boys working on an art project for the toddler room. Going with a fish theme so I took them to a craft store and we bought a paint by number underwater scene and another you complete with markers. Of course mr 8 year old is not into coloring anymore, so I ended up finishing most of the marker picture myself (which I admit was fun and I am 30 something and still like to color). These pictures will be framed and hung in the fishy room, as they were calling it.
When discussing the fishy room and what it's purpose would be, the boys had such very different viewpoints from which their questions derived. The 6 year old is very focused on other's viewpoints of himself, the more touch feely of the two. He asked if I thought the new babies would like him. He wanted to know if they would be his cousins, and if they would love him. 8 year old wanted to know about what adoption meant, and if we were getting a boy or a girl. If was a frequent discussion over the weekend and it was good talking about it on a child's level. It's sometimes easy to discuss with adults who already know what adoption means, and foster care, and understand we're not sure what's happening next or who will be coming through our door. To break it down to a child's level was much more difficult. It was a premonition of sorts on the conversation we will have with the children we adopt in the future.
I am starting to count down the days until I quit my job. After almost 7 years, I think it's time. I have a case in which I have been the case manager for the mother for 5 1/2 years, since she was removed from her mother's care at the age of 15. She was pregnant at the time and recently had her 4th child at the ripe old age of 20. I have had to remove each of them from her care, 2 of them twice after failed reunifications. Her rights have already been terminated as to her oldest girl, age 4, and she is doing really well in the foster/adopt home she's lived in since birth (with the exception of 3 months in which we tried and failed to reunify with bio-mom).
Things have been going well. I returned her 9 month old in December.
Last Saturday I received a call from the weekend team letting me know mom had her fourth and tested positive for meth. She reports she was stressed out b/c 9month old has been teething and crying all night and keeping her up and she's exhausted. Boyfriend works nights and sleeps all morning, so she feels alone. She took the opportunity to walk down the street, but meth and a pipe, and smoked a bowl and a half. This threw her into labor the following morning and she had a healthy baby girl. The silver lining is the baby tested negative and was not exposed.
So here we are 4 years later back at square one. I am exhausted. I am reminded how tedious this job can be, and no matter how good at it you are, the parents will make their own decisions.
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