Foster Further

Two days after I got back from being gone for five days, Jane let all her insecurities loose. She baby talked all day. She pestered the other kids in every tiny way she could be. She forgot to do things immediately after I asked her to do it. She was just low-grade angry all day. Day One after my return was full of tentative love attempts--creeping up to me, staring at me hungrily like she'd forgotten what I looked like, drawing a thousand heart pictures and presenting each one like priceless treasure and then being hurt when I wasn't enthusing over the twentieth picture in ten minutes. Day Two was angry. And anger for her is extremely passive aggressive. Low-grade annoyances toward everyone without ever once looking or sounding angry. This all escalated throughout the day very gradually until at bedtime I was standing next to her while she was brushing her teeth and realized she reeked of urine. I asked her if she'd peed her pants and she began to cry this hysterical cry t

I kinda lost my shit and left the state four days ago. I'm back already. Found my shit right quick and made it back, though only because Seth turned 18 today. If I hadn't woken up at 5am with the worst case of mom guilt EVER for voluntarily missing my eldest child's landmark birthday...well, I'd still be looking for my shit somewhere in rural Illinois. But, 18 years ago today...ugh, I can't even do all the maudlin thoughts mothers do on their children's birthdays. Too much. It's just too much. So, in summary, we're all just sick of being cooped up together for months. Normally I'd be throwing the kids in the car every few days and driving off to some typical summertime funtime event. The fact that I can't do that--because the place is closed--or am scared to do that because every other stupid non-mask wearing person in the state will be there--is making me flat out miserable. I deeply crave slowly working my way through a trashy novel inbetween d

Tonight we had family dinner. All five kids, both adults, eating and talking. And it was good. Easy. Natural. Simple. Delicious. Enjoyable. I've waited a year and a half to say that. I distinctly remember the first time we tried to have a family dinner. I don't remember any details about what or when other than the complete disaster unfolding around me. The girls bounced around like frenetic monkeys putting on the loudest show they could. They could not figure out why we were all gathered in one space so they compensated by attention-seeking. James was afraid of the chaos and hid under the table. The big boys grabbed their plates and went to eat in front of their screens. I lost my temper. Theo abandoned ship. I remember sitting there at the empty table that was a disaster zone of spilled drinks and splattered food and putting my head in my hands and crying. What had I done? For a long time that night has been a symbol to me of the havoc I wreaked on our home by bringing in mor

We're in another wave of racial unrest. Why, why, why yet another? Where is the leadership? Where are the solutions? Where is the real change that creates a turning point for our country? A few days ago I had a personal experience that went beyond these questions. Backstory: my neighbor, an African-American man named Charles, has a history of setting fires. Four times, that the neighborhood can document at least, he's lit a fire that got out of control and either did do property damage or needed the fire dept there to prevent damage. The third and fourth times threatened my home and family. I have watched this man light a giant brush fire full of uprooted trees in the middle of a dry, tall grassy field (a wild meadow where the grasses grow 4-5 feet tall) and then get in his truck and drive away. I watched those flames reach 6 feet high and come roaring towards my home while I waited and wondered if our volunteer fire department was going to make it in time. I heard the panic in