Parenting---It's Not for Sissies

When the Aspiring Adult graduated from high school, we made the same deal with him that we made with our other kids. As long as he wanted to continue his education, we'd pay for it. We don't want him to start his life saddled with student loans. When he's figured he's had enough, he just needs to say so, and that's it.

Considering that his circumstances are different than with our other two boys (neither one of them can drive), we offered to let him stay here expense-free so that he could save up his money. The only caveat is that he had to follow the house rules, of which there are only a couple.

1). No phone calls on the house phone after 9pm. Call us old-fashioned, but both Hubby and I were raised to believe that is rude. No call late at night is a good call. It usually means a loved one is ill or there's been an accident. People who know us don't call us after 9pm. At least not more than once. ;-)

2) We have a curfew. 10pm on weekdays and 12pm on weekends. It's ok to call to let us know if you're running late, just call (one exception to the no phone calls after 9 rule). We have 4 very noisy dogs who go apeshit with people coming and going in the house, and since MOST of us have to be up very early in the morning, it's unfair to wake us in the middle of the night.

3) This is not a hotel. We know you have a busy social life, but you still have to come by once in awhile and stay long enough to take care of business. Meaning, the dryer is not the place to store your clothes, and we're not your bitches. Since you're here long enough to mess up the bathroom, you get to come home and clean it from time to time. Oh, and we'd like to see your face at dinner at least once a week.

Hubby and I are not ogres, but we expect the few rules we have to be followed. The Aspiring Adult seems to think differently. He argues that he is now a man and can do whatever he wants.

We counter with, "Of course you can, you manly man. When are you planning on moving out and supporting yourself like a REAL adult?"

So since graduation, needless to say, we've been having some issues.

I don't know if it's because he's been in and out of foster care for a good part of his life, or being a teenager, or having a character flaw, but the Aspiring Adult seems to have a need to feel like he's "getting one over on us".

For example:

One morning Hubby woke up and found that the kid's car wasn't in the driveway. Didn't he come home last night? He went out to get something from his vehicle and noticed that the kid had parked across the street in the driveway of our neighbor's vacation home. WTF was up with that?

He called down the stairs and told the Aspiring Adult that he'd have to move his car, because it was Saturday, and the neighbor's relatives from the city often came and stayed the weekend and would be a bit put out to find his car there. The kid came up, moved the car (backed it down to the side of our house, which was also odd), came in, took a shower and said he was leaving for work. Hubby came outside to catch him sneaking a girl out of the basement. ;-)

Now here's the rub. We don't actually care that he had a girl here, as long as he doesn't make a habit of it. They're both over 18. The girl lives about an hour and a half away, and after their date it would have been a three-hour round trip to take her home and he said he was too tired to make the drive. We understand that. In fact, we'd have preferred they stay here, because we worry about him falling asleep at the wheel.

AND HE KNOWS THIS. He could have brought her in and out the front door. So why all the sneakiness?

Because he enjoys it.

All summer, he's been coming in at curfew, telling us good night, and then going out the basement to hang out with his friends until the wee hours. Some of the time he's been caught, and is completely unrepentant. It wouldn't be an issue if he told us that he was going to stay at a friend's house all night. He could just stay out. We don't require that he tell us who he's staying with or where he's going, so really it's a non-issue. We explain this over and over and he gets it.

He just enjoys being sneaky.

Since he totaled his car, we found out that the week before he had received a ticket for going 60 miles per hour through a stop sign. He is going to lose his driver's license, most likely for a year (he doesn't seem to think so, but then again, he's young and foolish). When we found out, we took him off our insurance as an authorized driver of our cars, because our rates were going to double. Plus, since he's turned out to be such a bad driver (went through two cars in less than a year), we don't want him anywhere NEAR our vehicles.

As a consequence to all that, and since he is a man and all, it is his responsibility to get himself to and from work. If his schedule happens to coincide with times that Hubby and I have to be in town, it's all well and good. If not, then he has options. He could catch a ride with a friend. He could walk a half mile down the highway and catch the bus. He could ride his bike. He could pay for a cab.

Not very palatable options, but options all the same. What isn't an option is expecting ME to be his personal chauffeur. I've done that for years with the other kids, since they can't drive. NOT going to do it for someone who pissed away his license by making a lot of bad choices.

Anyhoo, last week Hubby did what he frequently does---ate a bunch of crap before going to bed. He woke up with heartburn at about 2:30am and went in the kitchen to get some Tums. As he was heading back to bed, lights flashed through the living room window. A car was coming down the driveway.

My car.

Except I was asleep in bed and he knew this because he tried to play footsie with me.

That little shit.

Hubby confronted him, took the keys, and told him we'd deal with it in the morning. In the morning he was so furious that he asked me to deal with it and went to work.

At 8am I woke the kid up (like I was going to let him sleep until noon?). It went like this:

Aspiring Adult: I don't see what the big deal is.

Me: You stole my car!

AA: It wasn't stealing!

Me: Is your name on the title? No. Did I give you permission to use my car? No. That is called stealing.

AA: No it isn't.

Me: Then what would you call it?

AA: I borrowed it.

Me: Borrowing is when you ask someone's permission to use their stuff. Did you ask? No. It's not borrowing, it's stealing.

AA: I don't see what the big deal is. Cars are meant to be used by ALL the drivers in the house, including me. (Is he freaking KIDDING me?)

And round and round we went. I told him he was grounded for a month. When he wasn't at work, he was to be at home. He could continue to stay up all night if he wanted, but if he thought he'd be sleeping in until noon on his days off, he had another think coming. If he didn't have schoolwork to do, I'd find something for him to do. For a month he was going to be MY bitch.

AA: No. I'm a man and you can't ground me.

Me: Then there's the door. Use it. Now.

AA: I don't have to leave.

Me: Look at it this way. You WANT to leave. We allowed you to stay here contingent on a few rules. You've thumbed your nose at them time after time. The only conclusion I can reach is that you no longer want to live in our house. I am supporting YOUR decision. Door. Out. Now.

AA: How am I going to get into town?

Me: You have a phone, and you have feet. You're such a smart guy, I'm sure you can figure it out. Call us when you find yourself a place and you can come get your stuff.

So he left. I felt horrible about it, but there's only so much you can do. Our home is our haven and we don't want to have to lock up our keys and our valuables (we found out with Big Kid that someone who is willing to steal isn't often picky about WHAT they steal). The fact that the Aspiring Adult had completely justified the stealing of my car in his own mind was pretty disturbing.

And before anybody accuses me of being a heartless, rotten person let me say that the Aspiring Adult has a cell phone, a job, a savings account and a couple of credit cards. He knows how to rent a hotel room. He has skills. It's not like I tossed a puppy out of moving car.

He didn't speak to us for a few days. We called and left messages asking him if he was alright and if he needed anything. We drove around town looking for inexpensive places to rent that are in walking distance of his job. We did NOT call and ask him to come back. That ship has sailed.

However, as long as he stays in school and maintains a C average, we'll continue to pay for school and help him out a bit financially if he needs it. He's welcome to come over to do his laundry, get some groceries, and call us if he's in trouble. We love him and he's our guy.

And now he gets to find out what being a man is REALLY all about.

It's a Bumpy Road to Adulthood

Oh golly, what a weekend.

Haven't talked a whole lot about the Aspiring Adult lately. He's been busy working two jobs and taking a couple of classes online (His second job wouldn't give him a regular schedule until he'd been there for 3 months, and he didn't feel comfortable scheduling classes he might not make). So far he's got A's in everything.

If you all remember, when he turned 18, we provided him with a pretty nice car for his use, intending to sign it over to him when he started college. He blew out 2 engines in less than 6 months. The first time was because he ignored or didn't know what the oil light was for, the second was because he thought he could treat the car like an off-road vehicle.

We refused to replace the engine the second time, so he had to use some of his savings to buy a beater he could get around in.

Everything's been pretty smooth with that (except he got a speeding ticket).

Yesterday we invited Big Kid and Kitty up for the day. Big Kid was going to watch football with his dad, and Kitty was going to help me sort through some merchandise we're getting together for a large order the studio received. Then we were going to do the big Sunday dinner thing.

I heard the Aspiring Adult's alarm go off at about 6a.m. down in the bat cave. He's very responsible about getting himself up and out of the house for work, so I figured he had an early shift. I was in and out of the main part of the house and didn't see him leave.

Early evening, he hadn't come home or called, and I was getting a bit annoyed. If he's not coming home for dinner, I expect a call for courtesy's sake, and he's not always so good about that. So I called him on his cell. He didn't answer, but called me back about 5 minutes later.

"Are you coming home for dinner?" I asked.

Uh, I'm in my room.

"What?"

I've been here all day. Something happened, and I didn't know how to tell you guys about it.

"But your car's not here." Uh oh. No car. Not good.

"First of all, are you ok?" I can't believe we're having this conversation on the phone, fer petesakes, when he's one floor below me.

Yes.

"Were you drinking and driving?"

NO!

What happened was this:

He got a call at about 1am from a girl in the crowd he hangs out with. Not his girlfriend. She's still in high school, and was supposed to be spending the night at a friend's house. She had another guy friend who she feared was depressed and had taken some prescription drugs. Would the Aspiring Adult come pick her up and take her to his house so she could check on him?

Instead of doing the logical thing, like telling her if she was THAT worried, she should call 911, or maybe her own parents, he sneaked out of the house (his curfew is midnight unless other arrangements have been made) and went and picked her up. She didn't know the address exactly, but kind of knew where the house was.

So those two fools drove around in the mountains in the middle of the night, where there are NO streetlights, and most of the homes are set way back from the road and you can't see the house numbers. They got lost. Unfamiliar with the terrain, the Aspiring Adult took a curve too sharply, clipped a tree...

And rolled the freaking car.

Thank GOD they had their seatbelts on.

The girl had a bruised chest from where the seatbelt held her in, and went to the hospital in an ambulance. Her mother tried to have the Aspiring Adult arrested, but since her daughter was the one who initiated the whole event, the police refused. There were no drugs or alcohol involved, so he got off with a reckless driving ticket and a totaled car.

And Hubby will get an escalated insurance rate for the next 10 years.

Dumbass.

Oh, and the kid who supposedly took too many drugs? He's fine. Apparently he didn't really take anything after all.

What's in a Name?

This has been a really busy two weeks! Had to get activities set up for Little Guy for the semester (he's going to work two days a week and go to class 3 days), get Big Kid to appointments, and get The Happening Dude to his driver's test. The only DMV that does that is over an hour drive away.

Which comes to the name thing. This has been a major pain-in-the-pooper.

For those who haven't been around my blog for a long time, The Happening Dude is really our nephew. You can read about how he came to be with us here.

My brother and his wife adopted THD and his sister out of foster care. And then promptly divorced and she moved to another state. She rapidly remarried and then started working on all 4 of their kids.

My brother's last name (and my maiden name) is ordinary enough. However, if you deliberately mispronounce it, it's a word that basically means hard-on.

Ex knew that my brother would never allow her new husband to adopt all 4 of his kids, so she started making fun of their last name. She made them ashamed of it, and then suggested they get my brother to allow them to change their name to her current name. They called and harangued him ("kids are making fun of me!" "I want the same name as Mommy!") and eventually wore him down. He agreed to it. Dumbass.

The problem is that Ex never notified the state where THD was adopted and from which she was receiving foster/adopt benefits of the change. So in their system, THD and his sister were still listed as Hard-On and not Smith.

When she and her new hubby divorced, she moved back to her home state, and within a year put THD back in to foster care. After a couple of years, when she had no intention of reunifying, we were fortunate to get him.

Except the kid has been in name limbo. Legally, his name is Smith. All of his official documents say differently. We used them to get his driver's permit, but knew that we'd have to get it all straightened out. Although my brother granted us custody of THD (after ex relinquished control), he is not an on-the-ball person and never managed to track us down a copy of the name change, and I didn't have the legal authority to request it. We all decided to wait until THD turned 18 (a few weeks ago) to do anything about it.

Shortly before his birthday, he emailed his mom. It was the first communication he'd had with her in a few years. He politely asked if she had a copy of the order of the name change and if he could have one.

Her response?

"I have a certified copy, but I'm saving it for your sister. You'll have to get your own. Good luck to you."

WTF? Hubby and I suggested he write back to her and ask if she could just fax a COPY of the order so we could get the case number and court it was issued in. He did. She never responded.

Fortunately, tracking down the paperwork was easier than we thought.

Now convincing the DMV of this preposterous story was another issue. Gah! But it all worked out.

While we were driving home, THD casually mentioned that he wanted to change his name again. He'd already spoken to Hubby and wanted to change his name to ours.

I almost drove off the road.

He explained his reasoning. He didn't want to carry the name of the man who was briefly married to his adopted mother. He had an aversion to the "Hard-on" name, and his adopted dad had only "sort of" parented him for a few of his 18 years. He had no affinity for his birth family and didn't want to go back to his original name. He wanted to be a part of our family, if only by a name.

Bless his heart. After all those years of being shuffled around and in and out of care, he wants to be identified as one of our clan.

I reassured him that no matter what, this is his home. We are his peeps. There's a lot of things for him to think long and hard about, but as a young guy, he has a lot of time, and we'll support any decision he makes.

One thing he is sure about is that he wants to legally sever all ties with his adopted mom. After our scare with Big Kid, where I had to make all the medical decisions for him when he couldn't make them for himself as next-of-kin, THD is afraid to relinquish any of that authority to her (thinks she'd tell them to pull the plug).

Oy.

Lots to think about.

Happy Birthday

To The Happening Dude on your 18th birthday.

There are not enough words to express how grateful we are that you wanted to come live with us. There are not enough words to express how proud you make us and how much joy you've brought to our family since you've become a part of it.

Through most of your life, the adults who have been in charge of loving, cherishing and nourishing your unique and caring spirit have let you down, but you've flourished in spite of it. You have so many special gifts and so much potential.

Please know that we couldn't love you more if you had been born to us.

You're OUR guy.

Happy 18th, you precious boy.

xoxox

The Days Have Been Flying By...

Sometimes it just seems like there aren't enough hours in a day, doesn't it?

This week we've been running back and forth down to the city to have THD totally evaluated mentally and physically. It just happened that we set the appointments up when he got here at the end of March, and this is the soonest any specialist could see him as a new patient.

Unfreakingbelievably, we STILL don't have his new state-issued Medicaid card, although he has been assigned a number. Our local pharmacy and family doc took the number with no problems, but I had to do a lot of sweet-talking to the others to accept it. grr.

Like a used car, we're having the kid completely overhauled. It's been years since he's seen a dentist. Next up is an eye exam.

When he got here, THD's medical records were sketchy. Apparently, with all the moving around he's done, whoever was in charge of his care at whatever time didn't get records forwarded from all the previous carers. So he had a lot of diagnoses without any original evaluations. In fact, he doesn't remember even HAVING any primary evaluations. Except for an MRI in 2004 which isn't included anywhere.

So he came to us with a boatload of diagnoses hung around his neck without any data to back it up. Complete with prescriptions. It's been absolutely puzzling to us, simply because the kid REALLY DOESN'T SEEM TO HAVE ANY PROBLEMS (other than being a teenager)! We needed to do more than kick his tires, and in the last 7 days or so, we've had a complete diagnostic.

These are the results so far: ADHD? No. Whatever mild attention deficits he might have had could be explained as a result of anxiety and depression due to his life circumstances. He completed this final quarter at school with straight A's while holding down an after school job, and enjoying a budding social life without the benefit of ADHD meds.

Tourette's Syndrome? No. This diagnoses was actually grandfathered in when THD's older sister looked up "eye twitching" on the internet. She found Tourette's Syndrome, and the family started telling everyone he had it. He doesn't. He has eye twitching due to a brain injury he had as an infant in his biological home. It's called nystagmus.

Anxiety disorder? No. Duh. He was in multiple foster homes and even a shelter over an 18-month period. If you were worried that somebody was going to steal the only pair of shoes you had while you were sleeping, you might be anxious too.

OCD? Hah. The kid pees on the toilet seat sometimes and has to be reminded to wash his hands. Monk he is not. On a more serious note, he doesn't have any obsessive or compulsive thoughts or habits. This diagnoses just got attached like a bad smell that you can't find the origin of (so you blame the dog for poofting).

ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder)? Another dog fart. This is one of those issues that is self-controlled. You choose to argue or you don't. We happen to be a family that enjoys a lively debate as long as it doesn't include dish throwing or spurting stumps caused by machetes. Tomato, Tamahto.

RAD? While this is a very real and serious condition, THD's treating doctors feel like sometimes it is automatically attached to children who have been in the system whether they have it or not. If THD has it, it's manifesting itself in a mild way. He exhibits a strong capability to bond, but is impatient with silly girls who want a commitment. Doesn't sound like much of a problem to me. He's a teenage boy, for pete's sakes. LOL

Lowgrade depression? Maybe. He's on a low dose of an anti-depressant and that may be keeping things smooth for him. So he's going to stay on it for the time being. Everything else is gone.

How is he doing? Really great. Along with good grades, a job and friends, he is volunteering at the local animal shelter in his spare time. He's a guy who likes to keep busy. The honeymoon period is definitely over--hehehe--he's had to be on phone restriction a couple of times (oh a fate worse than death!), but all in all, it's a cakewalk compared to 99% of the rest of life.

The other day we were in the car and he said, "How come our dogs are soooo stupid?"

My eyes filled with tears. He said "our"! He really feels like he's a member of the family!

He noticed instantly and said, "Are you crying? Did I say something wrong?"

I didn't want to get all gushy and embarass him.

"You're not allowed to call my dog stupid! It's not HER fault her brain is the size of a walnut!"

LOL

A Little Bit of Joy and a Little Bit of Oy

I found a scrap of paper on the floor the other day. I glanced at it and the top said, "THD's To-Do List For Monday". Listed were:

Look around!
Is the bathroom clean
Are the dogs fed
Does the trash need to go out
Are there dishes in the sink
Tell the manager you need more hours at work for school credit
Finish reading assignment
Hint that you need your own cellphone

Bless his heart. LOL

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On Saturday, Hubby took THD out on his errands to acquaint him with the geography of our town and to introduce him to whatever friends or associates they might run into. As I said in my last post, the phone has been ringing off the hook since THD has apparently given our unlisted phone number to every person who has asked for it (not that there is anything wrong with that). So while they were gone, I got to play social secretary.

When they got back, the Dood asked if anyone had called. I looked at my list.

"Ashley, Amber, Alyssa, Andrea and Azure called. And some girl who wouldn't leave a message."

Thanks! He grabbed the phone and raced up to the loft to start dialing.

Hubby looked at me. "Is it just me, or does it seem like he's working his way through the student body alphabetically? How many weeks do you think it will take him to get to 'Z' ?"
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I feel like breaking my foot off in my brother's butt. He went on a bender shortly after THD's arrival, and he hasn't checked in to my mother's house for the last 5 days. There are several items of mail there from the Department of Family services from the state THD was in. Including, I'm supposing, THD's medicaid transfer. The kid has 3 days left of medication, has a mental health intake next week and a doctor's appointment. But no medicaid card. Mom won't just open the mail or forward it to me, even knowing it's regarding THD (because that would be wrong), and my brother isn't returning anyone's calls. Grrr.
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Last night I was up to my elbows in meatloaf mix (you know, where you have to squish all the ingredients by hand) when the phone rang.

THD and Hubby were outside splitting wood, so I said to Little Guy, "Why don't you answer it?"

Little Guy is a bit afraid of using the telephone. Mostly because it involves spontaneous conversation, and he isn't very comfortable talking to strangers without having a rehearsed set of comments ready. Although we've practiced good phone etiquette, he was nervous.

"You can do it!" I encouraged.

So he clicked on the button. Hello? THD? He's outside, hold on. Wait. Can I tell him who's calling?

Suddenly his mouth dropped open. I'm not allowed to say that. That's not very nice.

I grabbed a towel and started wiping the glop off my hands. "Who is it?"

He pulled the phone away from his ear.

It's a VAGINA! he exclaimed in a fairly loud stage whisper.

"A what?"

He said it louder. IT'S A VAGINA!!

I took the phone from him. We've had our share of crank calls and I can verbally blister someone's eardrums with dispatch. What kind of idiot would make a nasty phone call when everyone has caller ID nowadays?

"Who is calling please?" I asked crisply.

A scared little voice said, "Is this THD's house?"

"Yes, and who are YOU?"

"Could you please tell him Regina called?" Then she hung up.

R-E-G-I-N-A. Rhymes with....

Oy. Poor kid.

Checking In...

I haven't fallen off the face of the planet, but have had such a busy week! Wanted to check in to let you know that we're all doing great, and will post more very soon.

The Happening Dude has been here a week, and we've been caught up in getting him settled in. He started school and his job, and has been making friends all over the place. The phone has been ringing off the hook---mostly girls (little hussies---snark!) with invitations for the weekend. I think he feels like the last $10.00 leather skirt at a Loehmann's sale. ;-) Fresh meat!

As always, the sad comes with the happy. He's a much more subdued kid than he was a couple of years ago. And he's so damn-uh-grateful, and feels the need to tell us constantly.

"It's like I'm dreaming!"

It's heartbreaking to hear, because all the chaos has been caused by the adults in his life who disliked each other more than they loved him and it was so unneccessary.

Hubby and I finally sat him down to tell him how very fortunate WE feel that he wanted to come and live with us. And we're going to keep telling him, and telling him and telling him.

Maybe one day soon he'll truly begin to believe it.

We Interrupt Our Programming....

I know I've been totally off the grid this week, but things around the Attila house are happening much more quickly than anticipated.

It looks like we'll be getting THD within a few weeks instead of a few months. So, I've been running around like a doof who lit a fart on fire trying to get everything in place. Paperwork, paperwork and MORE paperwork.

Will fill you all in during the next day or two. :-)

In the meantime...

If you're in the east, have a little extra room in your house and a little bigger room in your heart to host a child---the Fresh Air Fund people sent me this and asked me to post it on the blog.

A Bundle of Joy

Well, believe it or not, it's looks like I'm going to become a mom again.

Yep. That's right.

Didn't think I had it in me, did ya?




Now that you've picked yourself off the floor, I just have to say one thing...

It's not what you think. ;-)

I used to write about my nephew, The Happening Dude. If you click on the tag you can read what a neat kid he is.

To make a long, convoluted and ugly story short...

THD is my older brother's son. He and his ex-wife adopted THD out of foster care when he was about 6, shortly before they divorced. She got (my brother didn't fight it and had a sh*tty lawyer) sole custody of all of their children and promptly moved them to another state with her new boyfriend. My brother saw them about once or twice a year.

I love my brother, but bless his heart (or damn his soul---take your pick), he is not a very responsible parent.

Anyhoo several years later, ex-wife and new hubby had a baby, and decided that they just didn't have room for THD any more. She called my brother and said, take him or I'm returning him to foster care.

See. I said it was ugly.

So that's how THD came to our family. I'd only ever seen him twice in his life before that and he'd just been a little guy.

At the time, my brother had moved back to our state and was living with our parents, trying to "get back on his feet". THD lived with all of them for the next 3 years, and the majority of the child rearing fell to my mom. To give her a break, Hubby and I would have THD on school breaks and the odd weekend.

We all adore him. He's a delightful kid.

Almost 3 years ago, brother's ex and her new hubby got divorced. Ex decided to move back to her home state, and while her new ex hubby would pay child support, he had no intention of financing the lifestyle to which she wanted to become accustomed. She wanted THD and his adoption subsidy back. She promised him things would be different and that he could come visit us in the summer.

And he wanted his mom and missed his siblings, so we didn't fight it.

It didn't last a year. He stole some cash from her and ran away. I wrote about it here. He was running away to us.

The police picked him up 3 cities over at the bus terminal a couple of days later.

That is the very last we heard of The Happening Dude. Seriously.

Ex refused to come and get him, and demanded that he be in a juvenile center until his case came up (she pressed charges for the theft of money). As his sole custodial parent, she also demanded that none of us be allowed to have any contact with him whatsoever. The only information we've had about him in the last year and a half is that he's been in a juvenile group home. We weren't allowed to write, call, pass on messages or even know what city he was in.

Until now.

Apparently the state has been trying to work on reunification and ex has been resisting. They finally basically told her to "sh*t or get off the pot" already and she informed them that she never wanted THD back. She just didn't want any of us to have him. She'd rather he stay in foster care instead of being in a family if it meant coming back to us.

Nice, huh?

The state told her that if she had no intention of reunification, they were going to contact the rest of the family to see if anyone wanted him. She signed over her rights.

My mom got a call from them 3 weeks ago. They said, "is there anyone there who is willing and able to care for THD?"

And Mom gave them a big resounding YES!

Unfortunately, at her age, my mom doesn't feel up to parenting an active 17-year-old full-time. My brother doesn't have a fixed address and travels with his work. My younger brother and his SO work full time so nobody would be home after school (not a really good idea).

So that leaves us. I'm home, we have a good disability support system up here (THD was born with FAS and has some learning disabilities), and we already have medical caregivers in place, so we wouldn't have to hunt one down to sign him up. THD can spend breaks and the odd weekend with his dad and grandma to give US a break if we need it.

We had a family meeting about it to see what the guys thought. Hubby, was of course immediately on board from the beginning. Little Guy was ecstatic.

I explained it all very carefully to the Big Kid. We're all still adjusting to his move, and I didn't want him to feel like we were replacing him.

"You have to go get him, Mom. We can't leave him there. You should give him my old room."

That's my boy. Coming through when it's needed most.

We have a meeting (phone conference) in about 10 days. If all goes well, we might have THD by May.

I got to speak to him for the first time in almost 2 years a couple of days ago. Told him that we hoped that he knew that we wanted to reach out to him but weren't allowed to, and that all of us---his dad, grandma, uncle, me and my guys loved him and missed him terribly. He would always have a place with us.

"So does that mean I get to come home?"

I hope so, Kiddo.

Please Send Good Wishes...

Not about dogs 'n' skunks...that's all good.

I used to write about my nephew the "Happening Dude" from time to time (you can click on the label if you want to refresh your memory--he's the kid who will taste anything for money). I haven't for the past year because it's been a little painful for our family, and I really don't want to give his mom the public butt-kicking I think she deserves.

There is just some laundry that can't be aired, so I'll sketch it as briefly as possible.

About 4 years ago, my brother's ex-wife and her new husband had a baby. HD had been adopted from foster care by my brother and his ex shortly before their divorce and she had primary custody. They live in another state.

Anyway, HD was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, had some very mild learning disabilities and some growth issues. He's very very small for his age, much to his embarassment. He needs a lot of one-on-one attention.

After the new baby, ex decided to start a home business. She decided that HD was a little too much to handle with her new busy life and she really needed his room for a home office. So she called my brother (who was living in my mother's house with my mom and step-dad who is now deceased) and gave him an ultimatum.

Either come and get HD, or she was going to have him placed in a foster group home. I sh*t you not.

So that's how HD came here.

My brother has a lot of good intentions, but is not the most responsible of people. So most of HD's care fell to my mom. To give her a break, HD would come and stay with us for holidays, vacations, and some weekends. We loved having him, and having the chance to get to know him, because due to the acrimonious nature of the divorce, brother's ex never let the kids come visit us.

HD was doing really well in school, and made a lot of friends.

Last summer, the poop hit the fan. While he was visiting us, ex called HD here and told him she wanted him back. Turns out that her new husband had filed for a divorce, my brother's obligation of child support for the older kids had run out a couple of months earlier, and her home business was a disaster. She'd decided to move kit and caboodle back to her home state, and while her soon-to-be-ex would share equal custody with their baby, he didn't intend on financing her new life in perpetuity.

Legally, there was really nothing any of us could do. She still retained primary custody, although HD had been out here almost 3 years. And he WANTED to go. She promised that she would make time for just the two of them, and promised that he could come visit us last summer (none of which she followed through with). She's his mom, and he loves her.

We decided not to fight it, simply because it would have put HD in the hurtful position of being in the middle.

He called us a couple of times in the last year, but hung up whenever she came into the room, so our contact with him has been limited.

We heard Monday night that he's missing. Of course, ex didn't bother to let my brother know---one of his older kids called that night.

The authorities think that he might be trying to make it here. We haven't heard anything from him, and it's been over 48 hours since he was "officially" declared missing. He took money his mom had stashed away, so he could be on a bus. Then again, they're taking apart the family computer to see if he hooked up with someone on the internet.

We're just paralyzed.

Please send good thoughts...

Gag Me With a Spoon!

I've got my bitchypants on this morning.

Hang on, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Sunday night, little guy complained of having a sore throat.

Rut row.

He has sensory integration issues, so usually when it gets to the point where he says he's sick, it means he's really really sick.

Number One son woke up Monday morning, and he was ill as well. I called the doctor.

I'm amazed that nowadays in a doctor's office you can get a strep swab and have the results in 15 minutes. Even a short few years ago, we'd have to wait for a couple of days for lab results.

Yes. They have strep. Happy summer vacation!

Our nephew, who is visiting, was fine the last time I checked. I locked him in a closet to keep him away from contagion and have been slipping him peanut butter sandwiches under the door.

Just in case someone from Child Protective Services is reading this---I'm kidding. Really, I am!

So last evening I decided to make comfort food. The guys didn't feel sick enough to require soup, they wanted something more substantial. Chicken wings and macaroni and cheese. Okey doke.

I got the expensive stuff with the creamy sauce. Nothing is too good for my sick guys.

Hubby came in from work and saw me flopped on the couch.

Can I help? Did I ever mention I was married to a fabulous man?

"Would you drain the macaroni and put the sauce together? And pull the wings out of the oven?"

We fed the sick guys first, because frankly, none of us wanted to sit with them and it would be rude to spray disinfectant in their faces while they were eating.

Number One took a bite. And pushed his plate away. There's something wrong with the macaroni and cheese. Did Mom buy that generic stuff again?

Believe it or not, there are macaroni and cheese snobs. He lives in my house. It's Kraft (the Cheesiest!) or nothing.

No, she bought the expensive stuff for once, said Hubby. You're just used to the day-glo kind.

The little guy cleaned his plate, but didn't ask for another helping on the mac, which is amazingly out of character. Usually he'll check the level in the pot over and over to make sure there's enough for seconds. Boy, he must feel terrible!

I went in the kitchen and looked at it. It looked ok.

I got a spoon and tasted it. WTF?

Hubby came in the kitchen.

"Did you taste this?" I asked. "It's revolting! It tastes like feet! It's even...garlicky!"

He looked sheepish.

"Don't tell me. You put GARLIC in the macaroni and cheese? What in the hell is wrong with you?"

He got a little indignant. But I always put garlic in!

Since when? I would have remembered macaroni and feet! And while we're at it---if you're going to screw it up, why not add some salt and pepper to even it out? Why just...garlic?

I thought back. I can't remember the last time Hubby actually made macaroni and cheese. I've seen him obliviously trip over the boys while they were on their knees begging him not to put garlic in their mashed potatoes, but macaroni and cheese?

What kind of person desecrates the sanctity of comfort food?

When I let the nephew out of the closet to eat, he ate the mac and cheese. Even asked for seconds. Raved about it loudly. A little too loudly, if you get my drift.

Which has led me to a couple of conjectures.

The nephew is eternally grateful to eat something that doesn't have salsa in it (he lives at Grandma's house, and she puts salsa on everything).

Or that really was five bucks I thought I saw hubby slip to the kid when he thought I wasn't looking...and we already know that he'll eat anything for money.

Hope everyone has a happy and healthy day!

Soylent Greenies---Is It Peeeeple?

When he took the Yorkshire Terriorists to the vet earlier this year, hubby got some disturbing news.


We have to brush their teeth every day.

Hubby couldn't have been more shocked if the vet had sprouted a third eye on her forehead and asked him to touch it.

Are you serious?

One thing about our terriorists is that they don't like to be man-handled. Petted and patted, yes. Fiddled around with--no.

Oh, HELL no.

Unlike The Noodle Dog who would let you set fire to her tail if she thought it would make you smile, the Yorkies always seem to sense when it's time to have their nails clipped or their butt-glands seen to. Then it's impossible to get within 5 feet of them.

They taunt us and run under the bed. Kind of like in a Monty Python movie.

So we pay other people to do that stuff. And we don't ask how it went when it's over.

How were we going to brush their teeth every day? It takes an army just to get them into the bathtub!

Well, said the vet, You could always try Greenies.

What are Greenies, you might ask (we did)?

They're green toothbrush-shaped dog chews that are supposed to "brush plaque and tartar away!"

They also cost an arm and a leg, so they better be good!

The only problem we could forsee was that the Yorkies really weren't "chew" dogs. While The Noodle craves her rawhide every day, the only thing the terriorists were ever interested in treat-wise was cheese and each other's food.

But if it meant not having to chase them under the bed with toothbrushes, we were willing to try anything.

They loved them. Absolutely loved them.

We were amazed.

Nowadays---even if they are asleep halfway across the house---if anyone so much as crinkles a plastic bag within the vicinity of the kitchen, the three dogs race in like it's a 10-minute only 75% off sale at Shoe Carnival.

It's like doggie heroin, I tell you!

What the hell is in this stuff?

I looked at the ingredients list: Processed wheat gluten (wheat protein), glycerin, natural flavor, powdered cellulose fiber, monosodium phosphate, monoglycerides of edible fatty acid, magnesium stearate and chlorophyll.

Natural flavor? I looked up their website. "Natural Flavor: The ingredient used for the natural flavor is proprietary. However, we can tell you that it contains no beef protein and a very small amount of natural flavor is used."

I decided to put on my Mythbusters hat again.

I made a list. What are the flavors dogs love most in the world?

Peanut butter, bacon, cheese, dead squirrels, steak and other dogs' dookie.

My nephew, the Happening Dude, is visiting us this month. I had an extra victim to experiment with.

Since I'm the one who actually ate the vomit-flavored jelly bean the last time we were experimenting with questionable foodstuffs, I asked for volunteers.

Would anybody be willing to taste a greenie?

My husband shook his head. You have GOT to be shitting me!

It will probably give me cancer, said Number One Son.

The little guy was horrified. I think that's child abuse!

How much would you pay me? asked the Happening Dude--a kid after my own heart.

I offered him a dollar. But I was willing to go to five. He took the dollar.

I've eaten dog biscuits before, he shrugged. They're really not that bad.

I decided that it was safer NOT to ask the obvious question. Even 14-year-olds deserve a little privacy.

He smelled it. It doesn't smell like anything.

He licked it. It doesn't have a taste.

Maybe you have to chew it a little bit, I suggested.

But don't break your tooth! Hubby warned.

He gnawed on it a bit. It tastes kind of sweet, he said.

Like candy? No.

And that was it. No bacon, cheese, dead squirrel, steak or doo-doo taste. It's just kind of sweet.

Later, I started thinking.

What if Greenies are like the food supplements in the movie Soylent Green?

What if that "natural flavor" taste is people taste? What do dogs love better than their peeps?

I mean, how would the buying public really know? Anybody gnaw on a person lately?

More on Mangling Language

Number One Son is doing well after his oral surgery yesterday. He was touched by the comments and thanks everyone for their kind wishes.

Then again, he's on some pretty fantabulous drugs and he might not remember any of it tomorrow.

Last night we were talking about my previous week's posts about language, and in his Vicodin-enhanced haze, he said, "You forgot to write about that football thing."

Except with all the gauze in his mouth, it sounded like "Oo odot o ite out a ooaall ing".

And hubby added, "And that other thing. Write about that, it's funny!"

Well. My menfolk seem to think my blog is now a family project. I'll indulge them this time, because these couple of snippets are actually pretty good and better yet, they're short because I have a really busy day ahead being Nursetilla the Mom.

When my nephew, the "Happening Dude" was visiting (if you're coming in late, read A Rose By Any Other Name...), we were having another conversation about words and definitions which often leaves at least one of us baffled.

He said, Did you know that in Europe they call soccer "football"?

I replied, "Yes, I've read about that."

Did you know that in Europe they call football "soccer"?

"Where in the world did you learn that?"

Well, it only makes sense, since it's all switched around.

"Actually, I believe they call it American Football."

No way! That doesn't make sense! Where'd you hear that?

"Well I do occasionally crack open a book and watch the news."

That's soooo gay!!!!
____________

It's also kind of funny how regional definitions go cattywhumpus on us at times as well. In some areas of the US, soft drinks are called "pop". In others, they're called "soda". If you're in the "soda" region and ask for "pop", people look at you as if you've sprouted horns and a tail.

A couple of years ago, hubby was registering Number One Son for the summer leadership program at military school. He had to stand in line after line with the other parents to fill out endless forms, etc, and struck up a conversation with a mom.

She confided that this was her son's first time at military school, but she wasn't totally sold on the whole idea, although he really wanted to go.

She was worried about her son being so far away from home in an environment he wasn't used to. She was worried about hazing and other hijinks that boys get up to.

In fact, this was the third school she had looked at, because she just didn't feel that the first two (which were on the east coast) were safe enough.

"What didn't you like about them?" Hubby asked politely. He was curious because there are many fine military prep schools out in the east.

Those lists of supplies they sent in the application packets. We were required to provide him with black shower thongs!

First of all, I don't like the idea of an institution requiring my son to wear that kind of underwear, and second of all---why does he need to wear them in the shower? Are they to deter rape by other boys?

Hubby had a very hard time keeping a straight face.

"M'aam," he said. "I don't know how to tell you this, but they were asking you to provide your son with Flip-flops."

Snerk.

Hope you all have a great day!

A Rose By Any Other Name...

This morning I've been thinking about language, how it evolves, and how I feel so out of the loop.

Take the word "gay" for instance. Once upon a time, it was widely used to describe happiness or light-heartedness.

When I was a teen it started to become commonly used as a term describing homosexuality. Kids used to snicker at my friend Gaye. When she went to college, she changed her moniker to Gigi.

Nowadays, listening to my 14-year-old nephew and his friends, "gay" seems to be simply used as a descriptor. As in, "That's soooo, you're soooo, she's soooo gay!"

My nephew is a happening dude.

Ok, that really made me sound like an old fart.

Anyway, he prides himself on being "up" on all the trends, although the closest he's been to an urban area is in the back seat of Grandma's station wagon.

So when he visits us, hubby and I learn some new meanings to old words every time.

On his last visit, the nephew spent 30 minutes gelling and messing around with his all-over 1-inch coif. He came out of the bathroom and preened.

I'm so pimp!

I looked at him blankly. "Wha???"

I'm pimpin'!

"Pimping? Like Huggy Bear?"

Who's Huggy Bear?

I explain to him about Huggy Bear and that old 70's series Starsky and Hutch.

No, that's not what the word means! It means cool!

Hubby came in and I tell him that our nephew is "pimp".

"You mean like Fly Guy?" Hubby asks.

Who's Fly Guy?

Hubby explains about the Blaxploitation satire movie by Keenan Ivory Wayans called I'm Gonna Git You Sucker.

I mention that both Huggy Bear and Fly Guy were played by the same actor, Antonio Fargas. We muse for a few minutes on what made him such a great "pimp" actor, and how Snoop Dog just didn't cut the mustard as Huggy in the craptastic Starsky and Hutch remake.

Nephew struggles to keep up with this nutty conversation and fails.

God! You guys don't even know what "pimp" means!

You are just sooo gay!

Ouch. Going to go find me some Geritol now...

Taking Care Of Business

This week marks the end of Spring Break. My oldest is home from his first year at college, and my 14-year-old nephew came to visit. We watched movies, went 4-wheeling, ate out, went shopping for cds and big kid's first tailored suit.

I get 2 more days to bask in the delightful companionship of four of the most important men in my life.

I just have one complaint.

Would it kill any of you to put the @$#&*@$%!! toilet seat down once in awhile?


Ode de Toilet (The Toilet Song)
By Brad Paisley

She says not to buy her flowers
Or big expensive gifts
She says she don't want jewelry
And she doesn't need another dress
If I want to show her how much I adore her
The best way that I've found
Is to make sure when I'm finished
I put that toilet seat down

Brad, if this keeps up, I'm ditching the guys and moving in with you.