Foster Further

 It's Friday after five full days--after six months of nothing much--and wow, I have three exhausted little people. They haven't protested a bedtime one night this week. Here's the rundown on what I observed.  At pick-up the second day Kate jumped in my arms exclaiming, "Mama!" She was relieved I was there to pick her up, still a bit unsure of her new schedule and when she'd see me. Once in my arms she got a bit weepy and whispered in my ear that she'd been looking for me alllll day long . I sat down and cuddled her on my lap and assured her that I loved her and would always come back. Very poignant moment.  James also ran to me, hugged me, and said how happy he was to see me. He held it together in school but in the car he used a lot of big facial expressions and sad words to tell me about all the hard times in his day. At one point his voice got very sad and he said his teacher was, "not nice to me" because she wouldn't let him look at the

 The real bitch of raising kids with childhood trauma is that it's always there.  We're in the midst of a bunch of transitions due to back to school and of course major life transitions are always hard but then there's this underlying everything. I was gone for three days to take Seth to college = abandonment trigger. Seth is mysteriously gone and he isn't coming back = trigger. Kids go to meet their new teacher in their new classroom = trigger.  It's just so damn exhausting.  Today I'm moving James into Seth's old room (because it gives some breathing room for Gus who has had to share a room with his baby brother for years and also because James is the easiest to move back in with Gus when Seth returns on break). I have not bought one new thing for James. His same old stuff is moving over or I'm getting a few items from the garage (e.g. an old carpet remnant).  The girls come into the room because James is in there and I'm trying to make this happy

 Just got home from a three-day road trip to take Seth to college for his freshman year. Theo, Gus and I all went out to take him. My mom stayed home with the three littles.  These are my thoughts about the experience of sending my very first child out into the world for the very first time.  I kept having this almost deja vu kind of feeling. Haven't I sorta done this before? Isn't this familiar, vaguely? Finally realized what I was reliving: childbirth.  Childbirth happens after nine month. Kids move into their dorms several months after making their commitment to the school. There's a long, long time to build up excitement about the big event.  Even though you've been preparing, you don't really know what to expect. This is such a novel experience! What will it really be like?!? How will I feel? How will I react? Everyone around you is excited and happy and you feel obligated to match that. The college staff are decked out in their gear and bling and have super-du

 Today the three littles watched the movie: Mr. Peabody and Sherman. They'd never seen it or any of the characters before. They were each equally mesmerized (not all cartoons/movies appeal equally but this was the rare one that captivated them all.)  Afterwards they were telling me about it while eating lunch. James was emphatic that Mr. Peabody was sad. His face scrunched up and his voice sounded extra tragic as he told me. He couldn't give details, though, so I asked Jane about that part. Typically she has more awareness and a bigger vocabulary so she can elaborate when he gets stuck. This time she looked blank. Nobody was sad, she said. I gave a few synonyms but she was adamant. The movie was only about a machine that wouldn't work and they had to fix it, she said. Next, I looked at Kate and asked her if there was a sad part. Yes, the man lost his other son, she said and her tiny face crumpled and she began to sob. I went to her and picked her up and held her in my lap a

 Last week James turned 5. It's been a hard week with too much going on. (Prepping a house for sale, my grandmother dying and then her funeral, my niece's wedding, Seth's twice postponed graduation reduced to a cheesy drive-by event.) We did the house, the funeral, and James' birthday and missed the wedding and the graduation. But, still, it was too much and I can tell the girls are feeling neglected.  How do I know? Because Jane started singing tonelessly and incessantly to herself on the car ride home after James' birthday celebration. She hasn't done this in almost a year. Her face, when I looked back at pictures of James blowing out his candle, is pure hatred. She is so jealous she looks like she wants to scream and throw his cake on the floor. For some reason birthdays and birthday parties are a source of intense focus for her. Getting stuff is always how she feels validated and loved and the constant positive attention she receives from people absolutely e

 I don't know if it's just plain raising daughters, or more specifically, raising daughters with a history of trauma, that has changed me but I am forever changed. I am more on guard when other adults are around my kids. I am more attuned to their demeanor during and after an encounter. And, I've become the letter writer.  Covid has led me to send more letters to businesses in the past few months than I have in my whole life before. Initially, I was sending letters praising stores that enforced health precautions. Now, I'm just a letter writing fool. Everyone likes to get mail, right? Last week Jane had her first ever eye exam. It all went well until the tech needed to put in the eye drops to dilate her eyes. Jane is an incredibly compliant little girl. She lives to please. The tech was exclaiming all over the place about how great Jane was doing for being only 4 yrs old. Then, she tells Jane to tip her head back and WHAM in goes a drop. Jane had absolutely no warning t

This is a hard day. My grandmother died. It was a slow decline and not unexpected...but still. The finality of death. I wrote her or sent pictures or sent a silly craft the littles had made every month of this last year of her life. She'd been moved to a home and, more even than cheering her up, I wanted the staff there to know that she had family who loved her and would be checking in on her. She didn't want to go into that home. It wasn't right. She seemed so sad when I visited her there. I'm sad that that tiny room was where she died. She should've been in one of our homes and among family. I was holding my other grandmother in my arms when she died. My mom on one side and me on the other, making a three generation nest. I literally felt her final shuddering breath. I watched her spirit rise from her body and leave the room. I touched my dad's cold arm in the emergency room bay after they finally quit trying to revive him from his drowning accident. They'