Fickle

Last night The Boss was settled into bed and I was working on the computer. All was peaceful until he caught sight of a crane fly smacking the blinds. Crane flies (more commonly known as mosquito eaters or colloquially as mosquito hawks or sometimes as daddy-long legs--but that makes me think of the spider--or at our house, for reasons obscure, as "freddies") are oddly leggy but harmless and, though related to mosquitos, do not buzz annoyingly. I don't know if they actually eat mosquitos but I tell the kids they do so they won't bother me about it when they see one.

However, the Boss is inordinately freaked by winged and crawly insects so naturally he became increasingly agitated and kept telling me to "Get it out!". Finally, I snatched the freddy by the wing and flicked it out the door. Deed done. Be quiet and go to bed.

Um, no. That led to ten minutes of him sulking and crying and repeating, "You're mean, mommy. You killed it." and "I want it IN!". For cryin' out loud. Really?

He even opened the door to let it back in and it wouldn't come. So to get some peace and quiet, I got up again and let it back into the room where it flew too close to the bed resulting in cries of, "Get it, mom!" Nope. Deal with it.

This morning it was in my shower and I had to grab it by the wing again and toss it out. The Boss had forgotten all about it.

Losses

My sixteen-year-old cat, Sinclair, ran away last week. Totally weird since he always sticks really close to the house when he gets outside. We even saw him on the fence (how he got up there, I don't know) but thought he'd come straight back. I'm pretty sure somebody took him in, which is good. It's kind of sad that he's gone but, I have to say, life is much easier without a cat. It does mean the loss of a really good, early 90's obscure tv-reference name though.

I'll be out of a job at the end of the month. A bunch of people got unceremoniously yanked off the air and/or sacked today. Happy Christmas. I'm an independent contractor and work from home so it didn't affect me quite the same way. I can bill them through the end of the month. Pretty nutty around the office today, I heard. Gotta love the radio biz.

Summing Up

Computer back in the shop. Back on the slowbie (again grateful yet impatient). Too hard to blog so will bullet point the day.

Better behavior from Squeaker after non-lecture but "this is the way it's gonna be" talk from me last night. Her appearance in our town Christmas parade is at stake so I think I'll get perfect behavior all week.

The Boss is hyper and crazy lately and asking if he can have a "big boy" come live with us. Also asking for a dad. I'll get right on that, son.

Lucky enjoying her new cupboard-under-the-stairs hidey-hole that Ana made for her this week to get away from Squeaker when she's being mean. "There's no such thing as magic!"

After 5+ years since she left, Stickers is ready to come on back home to us now that she is 18.

The agency imploring us to take more kids because the crisis shelter is packed and there are not enough homes. Would need a three-to-a-room waiver to make that possible since it's brother/sister sibs (girl 6 and boy 8--there's The Boss' "big boy") and we only have one room.

Tappy coming this weekend for respite.

The rude dogs keep getting out from under the fence. Why do we have dogs again?

Otherwise, all is calm and all is bright. Very much looking forward to Christmas this year minus the ever ungrateful Drama Boy and Sparky.

Shorn

The boys were getting shaggy so a good bit of my Saturday went to hair cutting.

Cooper, The Boss, Johnny Cash
BEFORE

AFTER

There was obviously more wind and sun for the "after" picture so my subjects were not as cooperative but I don't think it was strictly necessary for Cooper to poke his tongue at me.

High Boy

Do not be deceived by this stair-nap. I do not have quiet, demure children.

For the last twenty minutes, The Boss has been using an unravelling tube of Superman gift wrap as a bullhorn to shrilly baby-talk the dogs. I think I've said "Lower your voice." several dozen times.

Maybe I should be telling him to raise his voice. If he takes it up an octave I think it will be in a range that only the dogs could hear anyway.

Ramble-Brain and Other Serious Conditions

I could never live alone because I'd have no one to rant to. Every time Ana and I have lived apart we would have hours long "debrief" calls every night so we could blow off all the irritations of the day and figure out how to turn them into funny stories for later.

I'm home alone with the littles as I was all yesterday morning too. I should be working in between sorting out squabbles, getting more toys down, changing laundry loads, and letting the dogs in and out but I can't quite seem to concentrate. I keep wandering around the house turning off lights and fans and closing blinds against the increasing heat.

When I came back from dropping Drama Boy at school I noticed the front window was open. A perfect invitation for someone to crawl right in when we are gone. I closed the window, closed the blinds, turned off the fan, let in the dogs and got to work. About twenty minutes later I heard a door creak upstairs. I got that ouchy heart lurching feeling that I got once when Ana and I walked in on a burglar still in our home. I saw the kicked in back door and realized she had just gone upstairs where the guy was still lurking. Fortunately this time it was just doors flapping in the wind of open windows and half a dozen fans left on by the kids. Sodapop did take the opportunity to follow me up the stairs and pee right where I was sure to step in it. Lousy dog.

Ana just called from court and things are not going well. The agency was going to request no contact with the boys' mom because of all the recent manipulation and the detrimenal affect it has had on them. Apparently that is not going to fly. We agreed we can keep Drama Boy and consider keeping Sparky (with lots of wrap-around services and therapy) but only if a no contact order was granted. We just cannot put the rest of our family at risk. Their mom is the most hateful and spiteful we've ever come across with all the kids we've had...and we've had some pretty gnarly parents and plenty of false accusations before. DB is so desperate to stay and it's going to be so difficult for everybody no matter how it works out. This is definitely one of the more screwed up, messy, painful cases we have gone through and these boys are sure to suffer no matter what is decided today. What a disaster.

Life in the Key of P

I feel like a live in the house of pee. Finally done with changing diapers, I still can't escape it.

In the middle of night, the Boss (in my bed of course) woke hollering "The pee is coming up." Sure 'nuff. Huge wet spot on my bed. Normally The Boss stays dry all night but last night he needed to go potty and was too afraid to get out of bed (my bed of course) to go even though I was in the room, the bathroom is in the room, and all the lights were on. In my mostly snoozy state I told him "Just get up and GO!" but did not see to it that he did. See, kids? Logical consequences apply to moms too.

Sometimes a failed race to make sure the dogs get out before it's absolutely necessary, it's been a week of it. Johnny Cash peed on The Boss' jacket. That's new. Cooper peed in my bathroom. Sodapop peed in the little boys' room.

Someone had a full-bladdered accident and then left a trail of wet clothes down the hall. I stepped on a pair of sodden socks. Yucko.

One of the kids suffers from frequent bladder control accidents and, while improved, has been setting out a hamper full of stinky, wet clothes each week.

Drama Boy and Sparky pee on each others beds for fun and revenge.

How can we have so much pee outside the bathroom and not a single jellyfish sting to show for it?

Many Moves

Today we rearranged rooms yet again in hopes of finding a solution that will work and minimize conflict. We had to move Drama Boy out of the shared room to keep him and his stuff safe from Sparky who has been tackling him, stealing and hiding his stuff, and trashing the room. He moved into the Boss' room. But then we had to move the Boss into my room to keep him safe from Drama Boy who has been blocking his path, hitting him, and telling him he hates him. Real nice, guys.

We also have to spend a lot of time keeping the dog safe from being pestered to death by all three of them (well, four counting Seamonkey).

I hear that most people don't have to live this way. Hard to imagine any more. Except for our first year fostering when we had only one six-year-old, we have spent the years that we have had foster kids in a state of constant hyper-vigilance and crisis management in an effort to keep everyone safe from one another and themselves.

I feel like Frodo at the foot of Mount Doom. I can't remember the Shire or the taste of strawberries...or what it was like to live in a peaceful house without locks on doors and cabinets or mixed up little people stealing, raging, and trying to beat the crap out of each other.

Nature Sounds

We have frogs. Technically we have frogs and toads (contrary to popular children's literature they are not friends). We have two White's Dumpy Tree Frogs named Swamper and Spiderfrog and two Fire Belly Toads named Big Mac and Toejam (leading to a funny exchange when The Boss asked Auntie L and the cousins "Do you want to see my toejam?"). Normally, the three other amphibians reside in Sparky and Drama Boy's room but, for the health and safety of all concerned, have been relocated to my bathroom counter. All these guys eat crickets. We've had some interesting times when the crickets have gotten loose and invaded all parts of the house. I hate to squish something's source of nutrition but when I see a noisy, annoying insect in the house it's going to meet the bottom of my shoe. Anyway, I now have swampy "ambience" in my room day and night. The frogs and toads don't say anything but the cricket-chirping is constant. The frogs must have one hiding under the soaking bowl because they are pretty good about gobbling down their dinner but I still hear a stray morsel in there somewhere. Mac is on a hunger strike or something. The crickets line up in a row on the rim of his ceramic pond and sing away. I now refer to the lot of them as "Big Mac and the Crickets" and tell them they should take their show on the road. I wish they would. They're keeping me up at night.

Morning Drama in Two Acts

Act 1

I woke this morning to frantic knocking on my bedroom door. My first response to knocking on my bedroom door is to ignore it, hoping it will go away. Let's try that. Nope. More frantic knocking. Finally, I answered in my most cheerful morning voice (sarcasm), "WHAT?" Drama Boy answered, "Can you come here really quick?" Silly boy...I can't do anything really quick in the morning. "There's something really weird here," he continued.

I followed him to the bathroom and found him examining the tree frogs' soaking bowl. "I don't know if (Sparky) put rocks in here or if those are eggs!" No doubt he was excited about the prospect of even more amphibians to clean up after. Sorry to disappoint you, sweetie. "That's poop," I told him.

After giving him instructions to dump the bowl downstairs because the bathroom sink doesn't drain well, I went off to my sister's room and woke her up so I could complain about how rude it was for Drama Boy to wake me up on a Saturday morning.

Act 2

Walking through the hall back to my own room, I glanced in the bathroom to see dirt and standing water in the sink so I said to Drama Boy, "Do you actually listen to me when I talk to you?" He said that he did so I asked him what I had told him. "You said to clean the bowl downstairs." Exactly. So I asked him, "How did that (gesturing to the now-clogged sink) work out for you?" "It didn't work out at all."

Twenty minutes later, when I went to to take a shower, the dirt and water were still in the sink...now joined by a wad of blue chewing gum.