Ten Long, Long Weeks

 

Believe me, we tried. We really did!

We loved them up, bought a minivan, rearranged our home, rearranged our schedules, didn’t visit my nephew all summer...

But when you ask and ask and ask for help from the agency that is supposed to be there for the kids and to support you and get told it’s “just the terrible twos early,” we’ll, some changes have to be made.

So the girls we took in ten weeks ago are going to another foster home. It was not a good fit. There was no support. It was taking away from Joshua and Kaylie and affecting my marriage and my mental health.

I know their new foster parents will love them and (hopefully) provide something permanency to their lives.

They need more help than we can give. I feel guilty. I feel a bit of a failure.

But mostly I feel relief.

I want to tell you...

 

I want to tell you that having Baby N. back after so many months of not seeing her was blissful.

I want to tell you that seeing Baby S. who looked so much like Baby N. when she was that age filled us with joy.

I want to tell you that the transition was seamless, that Darryl and I never fought, that I didn't feel like I was neglecting Joshua and Kayle.

I want to tell you that having to live in a hotel for a week with four kids (because we had scheduled months earlier to have our carpets ripped up and our floors redone) was a super fun adventure.

I want to tell you that Baby N. didn't have tantrums on average 10 times an hour.

I want to tell you that Baby S. slept and didn't wake up every two hours all night long, every night.

I want to tell you that I loved having my office in my unfinished basement wasn't a problem at all.

I want to tell you that I still had plenty of "me" time and Darryl and I had plenty of "us" time.

I want to tell you that I had plenty of time to eat well, to exercise, to crochet and read and create.

I want to tell you that my cats still got tons of attention and my dogs still got lots of walks.

I want to tell you that my former student didn't text me constantly about how much she missed her daughters that she ELECTED to put into foster care.

I want to tell you that the 24-year-old case planner was super responsive to my concerns about Baby N's tantrums and throwing herself on the floor and having food aggression like a dog.

I want to tell you that I didn't collapse every night crying because my house was a disaster and I was so overwhelmed I didn't want to be in my own house.

I want to tell you that I didn't regret my decision.

But I would be lying.

Mermaid Room

 

I lost my office.

One of the reasons we bought our current home is because there were more than two bedrooms (we have four).  One was our bedroom, one was Tiernen's, and one was Joshua and Kaylie's. And one of them was my office.

Was.

The baby was easy.  At two months old, we could put her in the bassinette part of a Pack N Play and put her in our bedroom.  Newborns wake up in the night (this baby woke up more, much more than most, but I'll save that for another post).

Joshua was fine in his room.  It was already decorated and had all his stuff in it.  We gave away his toddler bed, bought him new furniture -- including a BIG BOY BED complete with a memory foam mattress --  and took out Kaylie's crib.  His room was done.

But then there was the girls' room, my once upon a time office.  (Once upon a time, this room was paneled with ultra-cheap faux wood paneling!)  If you know me, you know I have a thing for mermaids ever since I started making crocheted mermaid dolls almost five years ago.  An obvious choice was a mermaid room.  

I painted three walls purple, one wall blue, and took advantage of the wooden mermaid summer signs that were on sale everywhere (because summer is over in retail world once July comes, everything was on sale, sale, sale!)  I bought blue and purple hombre curtains and starfish tie backs.  (Thanks, Amazon)  I bought purple sheets and purple and teal mermaid scale blankets.  I already had the white furniture from our former foster room (now Joshua's) so it went together.

I even bought a "mermaid tail" cactus!

Looking at it, it's hard to believe that THIS GIRLY of a room is in MY home, but it is.  

Four!

 

Unless you are a foster parent, I'm sorry, but you just don't get it.  

Not surprisingly, the majority of my local friends are also foster parents.  When Christine and Dale had four under five years old, I told them they were amazing.  When Karen and Heather had five (four fosters plus their own infant daughter), I told them they were brave.  When Nicole and Whitney told me they are up to NINE under seven, I didn't know whether to admire them to refer them to a good psychiatrist.

But...

Here I was.  With four kids.  Under three.  Joshua (2 1/2), Baby N (17 months), Kaylie (13 months), and Baby S (2 months).  

The first thing that happened was... Tiernen decided to move out and started looking for an apartment.  I wasn't insulted.  She is 24 and she has a Master's degree and she was ready.  After two years of living in Albany in an apartment, she was happy to leave.  

Plus.  We had four kids.  Under three.  Four kids.  

The next thing that happened was we started looking for a minivan.  Read that again.  Me.  The antiminivan woman.  I was looking for a minivan.  And we found one.  $5,000 for a loaded 2010 Honda Odyssey.  We bought it and had visions of us happily driving around with our four car seats.

Except... we couldn't register the van.  It ended up taking two months, but that's for another post.  Everywhere we went, we drove two cars:  Darryl with two of the kids and me with the other two.  Talk about lots of gas.

Talk about lots period.

Quarantining... and then...

One of the sort of cool things about having lived all over the country is that I'll get Facebook friend requests from colleagues and students from many, many years ago.  If it weren't for reconnecting on ol' social media, Darryl and I wouldn't have reconnected.  Yup, I am old school and like my Facebook.

Here I was, in the throws of quarantine, taking care of Joshua and Kaylie while teaching 12+ hours a day (because all the daycares were closed) when I got a friend request I was not expecting.  It was my student... the one who disappeared after I fostered her daughter for three months in early 2019.

I accepted her friend request, asked for pictures of the now very-big Baby N., and figured that would be that.  But no.

Apparently, my student -- you remember, the one who dropped out of school the week after she got the baby back -- had ANOTHER baby with Mr. Wonderful.  

Mom (still a minor) was IN FOSTER CARE with the two kids.  She wanted to know if I would take the girls (Baby N. and Baby S., ages 17 months and 2 months).  

Why?

Because she wanted to leave foster care and a program that would give her and her children housing, get her a GED, and get her job skills.  She wanted to be with Mr. Wonderful who physically abused the baby at two weeks old. You read correctly:  Two.  WEEKS.  Old. 

When I tell you that I literally begged, begged her to stay with her children, I am not exaggerating.  I begged.  I reasoned.  I made lists of why she should stay with them.

But she didn't. 

The day after she turned 18, she told the foster system she was ELECTING to leave her girls in care so she could be with her boyfriend.

Five days later, they were in our home.

When you don't get "the call"

During this quarantine, I've started watching Hoarders.  There used to be a time that I couldn't do it.  Just watching a few minutes of an episode would literally put me in anxiety attach mode.  For days afterwards, I would fearful that I was a hoarder and that everything needed to be tossed out immediately.

Tiernen and Darryl both forbid me from watching it.

And for a long time, I didn't.

But now I've started again.  Watching, not hoarding.  Of those of you who know me or have been to my home, you know I strive for minimalism.  Long before Marie Kondo was at the height of popularity, I wanted to have a house that was clutter-free, with clean lines and all that happy bullshit.  

And for the most part, I've done a good job.  For someone who loves books, I have very few on my bookshelf.  It isn't that I don't read.  I DO!  It's just that after I read one, I give it away.  Very rarely do I keep books.  I probably have less than fifty total on my shelf, and those are the ones that are super important to me.  Maybe I like the idea that if I had to pick up and move, I could pack all of them in one or two boxes and still be happy.  Who knows.

Anyway, I don't fear that I am a hoarder anymore.  Now I watch it and think, "wow, I'm doing a damn good job." Sure there are things I could improve on, but that's anybody.

If I didn't already mention this, I have a lot of animals.  Prior to Misha's passing, I had six cats and two dogs.  I admit it is too many, and Darryl and I have both decided that as they pass, they won't be replaced.  The goal is two cats.  

But I do see myself having hoarding tendencies in one area that is also potentially dangerous, and that comes to babies.  I only had one biological child because a) I was single, b) I couldn't afford it, and c) I hated being pregnant.  But honestly, there was a time when I wanted to live on a farm in Maine and drive a Suburban and have six kids.  For a long time, that desire faded, but now, it's back.  Okay, maybe not the Suburban (gas hogs... can I have a really large Prius?)

When I find out that someone "gets a call" to foster a baby, I'm jealous.  It doesn't matter that I have two babies at home.  I want more.  Kaylie is almost 11 months old and the fact that in a month I am going to have to put the Baby Brezza back in storage makes me want to cry.

So you can imagine my delight when, last Monday, The Agency called and said they had a FIVE DAY OLD BABY that needed placement. I was giddy.  Giddy.  In my mind, I was planning on rearranging the bedroom so I could fit the pack n play in my room, like back with Baby N was here last year.  I was thinking of the newborn diapers and clothes I had stashed in the attic.  

I was literally putting on my shoes when I was overcome with hoarder guilt.  Yes, guilt.

Friends of mine (who I met when they became foster parents to Baby O and eventually W) desperately wanted a baby. They wanted to eventually adopt, and the goal, the dream, was to have an infant from the hospital, a newborn.

Here I was, two healthy, happy babies, and I was going to scoop up and hoard a third.

I felt extremely selfish.  

I was making plans to pick up the newborn when I said to The Agency rep, "I need you to call XXX first... if they won't take the baby, I will."  She was stunned... "Oh, okay," The Agency lady said.

I immediately texted my friends and said, "You are going to get a call.  Newborn baby boy.  If you don't take him, I will."

They took him, except him was a her.  They are in love with this little one.  I feel both great about it and horrible.  Does that make any sense?

I called Darryl on his break and told him.  He said that letting the XXXs take the baby was a good idea because they wanted one so badly.  She will probably be freed for adoption because her mother had other children in care and apparently there is some mental illness there.  I am jealous.  

Is it possible to feel really good and really bad about a decision you made?

Another foster friend told me it just wasn't meant to be and that I'm a good person.  Yeah, okay... still sucks though.

I made Darryl pinky swear me that the next time they call for a newborn, we can take him or her.  He said okay.  It's rare to get those calls.  I know this.

My friend sends me pictures of the little girl I almost got to foster.  I'm so happy for them, but I'm sad and selfish and stingy and grumpy and angry for me.

Does that make any sense?

Misha

On a Friday, during the third week of quarantine, my second oldest cat died.

I got Misha when she was six weeks old.  One of my students told me that his cat had had kittens and one was all black.  My cat Lurch -- whom I had gotten when I was 19 -- had just passed, and Viktor, my remaining cat, was lonely.  I guess I was lonely too, because I couldn't resist her little black furballness.  

She was always fat, even outside of the long hair.  She loved to sit on the scale (see photo) and we used to joke that she was watching her weight.  

She ran away once for six weeks when Tiernen was a junior in high school.  Tiernen was so upset, she broke out in hives and had to get IV steroids because the doctors were afraid she was going to go into anaphylactic shock.  

About two years ago, when she was 11, Misha started to get thinner.  I figured it was old age because Lurch was always fat and when he turned 13 or 14, he really thinned out.  When we went to the vet or our regular appointment, he said she had hyperthyroidism:  she would be ravenously hungry but would lose a ton of weight.  I was jealous.

Over the next two years, Misha got thinner and thinner. Meds didn't work.  Changing her diet didn't work.  She was hungry all the time and stole food from the other cats, from the kids, from us.  She ate anything and everything.  Again, jealous.

But she died.  We found her under the kitchen table. She was already cold when we found her so she must have passed in the night.  I hope she wasn't in any pain.

When we found her, I told Tiernen to take the kids upstairs.  Darryl was at work.

Except here's the problem:  the ground is too hard to dig a hole to bury her.  All the vets are closed unless it is a life or death emergency.  (she's already dead, so...)

So I froze her.  Yup, as gross as that sounds, I did.  I didn't know what else to do.  I went down to my basement and took all the frozen food from our freezer chest.  I wrapped her in a bag and put her inside a styrofoam cooler that my brother gave me.  She will stay there until it warms up and we can give her a proper burial.

If you ask Joshua, "What happened to Misha?" he will tell you, "she died."  He is two, so I don't know how much about death he understands.  He knows that the daddy died in The Good Dinosaur.  I don't know.

Once, Joshua asked me if Misha was going to be a monster now and get him.  I told him she would not.  He does not know she is in the freezer downstairs. 

But I do.  I pass it every day when I do laundry.  It makes me sad and it is morbid but I don't know what else to do...

Fostering during Quarantine...

Fast forward a lot of months.  Sorry to go out of sequence here, but there is so much to talk about...

Let me start off by saying that I love my job.  Let me also say that I love being a foster mom.  I love our fosters.  We've had Joshua for 19 months and Kaylie for 7 months.  

Prior to this whole work from home remote learning thing, this was my day:

I would wake up at 6, shower, dress, eat some breakfast.  I would wake up Tiernen and Darryl.  They would help me wake up both kids, dress them, brush teeth, give Kaylie a bottle and Joshua a quick snack.  I would go to work at 7:30 and Tiernen would take the kids to daycare.

I would teach from 8 until 3 and then work one of my after school jobs until 4:30 (tutoring English at Upward Bound two days a week and advising Proctor Cares crochet club the other two).  Tiernen would pick the kids up from daycare.

I would come home, make dinner, bathe the kids, and put them to bed (hopefully by 9 if I was lucky).  I would watch a little television, maybe waste some time online, maybe crochet or sew or work on this blog.  I'd review my lessons for the next day and go to bed by midnight.

It wasn't a perfect system, but it worked.

Then this damn virus happened and everything changed.

Schedule?  Out the window.  Suddenly I was a stay-at-home mom 24/7 with two babies who no longer could go to daycare.

Okay, cool.  I sort of wanted to be a stay-at-home mom for a long time now.  Here was my chance.

Laundry had never been so up-to-date.  Bills were paid way before they were due.  The house was always spotless by the end of the day.  I was cooking every night (buh bye to our once a week sushi take out meals, impromptu brunch dates, or quick bites at Dunkin.  Nope.  Meals were planned.  Closets were organized.  Heck, why not potty train Joshua while I was at it?

Except. We. Were. Stuck. In. The. House.

Yes, I've read all the literature about "think of yourself as SAFE in the house instead of STUCK in the house." I get it.  I'm thankful. I am.  But when you take a little boy who is used to playing with his friends every day and having a set daycare schedule and suddenly it's just you and mom and your baby sister, well... let's just say he's started to literally jump off the couch. Or table.  Or (insert unsafe piece of furniture here).

Then there is Kaylie who is crawling up a storm.  She wants to touch what big brother is touching or reading and playing with.  And he's not having it.  He hits her, pushes her, takes toys from her, you name it.  (and yes, you can say, "oh that's all siblings" but these are unprecedented times, my friends.  We. Can't. Leave.)  I can't take him to the park to blow off some toddler steam.  I can't take him to Billy Beez and let him pummel other children with soft objects just because.  I can't take him to the library for story hour or swimming or anywhere.  Walks are even out because this is central New York and it's still snowing and it's cold.

Oh, but let's not forget this fun fact:  I'm still working.  Remotely, of course, but working nonetheless. I'm working more hours and harder than I ever have in all my teaching life.  I am recording lessons (which can only be done when a) both kids are sleeping which equal around 1 am, or b) nope, only a.) and require me to put on a shower, brush my hair, get dressed WITH a bra, and put on make up.  (did I mention the two kids under three?)

Students are stressed to and they are emailing and texting me literally from 7 am (you'd think they'd sleep in) until 11 pm.  I'm not kidding.  I'm getting Google Classroom notifications on my phone 24/7 and I can't even see what they are writing unless I check my computer.  Parents are emailing me upset over grades.  Kids are freaking out and saying I'm giving too much work (yeah, too much for ME, not for them).  Did I mention less than 50% of them are actually doing it?  Yeah, there's that fun too.

I'm doing all this remote teaching while trying to watch the kids.  Yes, Tiernen is helping, but we try to each take a kid.  If I have Kaylie, it means I have to hold her or put her in the front carrier, which means I cannot type.  If I have Joshua, I have to watch him because he likes to write on the walls, furniture, my books, and himself with whatever writing instrument he can find.  

Did I mention that Darryl started a new job at the hospital and that he works 3-11 PM and most weekends?  Yeah, there's that too.  So I'm making meals while Joshua is screaming to be let into the kitchen and Kaylie is in the back carrier so I don't burn her.

I've never needed to go to the chiropractor more in my entire life.  BUT OF COURSE NONE OF THEM ARE OPEN.  Plus, at this point, I need something like this:

 I am totally going to text my chiropractor and tell him I will BUY the strap if he will do it!

Okay, I'm rambling now.  Here's the bottom line.

I can rock the whole stay-at-home mom thing.  I can rock the online teacher thing.  But doing it at the same time is really, really difficult. 

Really difficult.

(And it's times like these that I am very jealous and even angry at Joshua and Kaylie's mom for her freedom.  I know she'd rather have them home with her, but she also isn't a teacher...)

Another Call

The school year started and honestly, it was the best freakin' schedule I had ever had.  Life was good.  

I did, however, have terrible back aches, most likely as a result of carrying around an ever-growing Joshua.  Luckily, I was regularly seeing a chiropractor (who just also happened to be a coworker's husband, so yeah).  

One day, I was driving to see Dr. B when the phone rang.  It was Joshua's mother.  Now, while we have regularly texted over the year, we have never talked on the phone.  Maybe it is because of her age (I don't think her generation talks on the phone...ever).

But she was calling.  

I clicked on my Apple Car Play (because I'm fancy like that... and yeah, I got a $175 ticket for talking on my phone in the car, so there's that).  I didn't even get a chance to say hello.

She was hysterical.

"Rebecca, they're here and they want to take my baby!  They want to take Kaylie!"

"Who?"

"The cops!  CPS! They want to take her!  Well, they aren't taking her!"  I could hear her yell to someone, "You aren't taking her!"

I tried to calm her down.  CPS?  What happened?

"I'll call you back!" she screamed.  As she hung up, I could hear her talking to a man, "You're not fucking taking my baby!"

I was shaken.  I didn't know what was going on.  

I had barely caught my breath when the phone rang again.  This time it was The Agency.

"Rebecca?  Hi.  It seems like Joshua's sister is going to be in placement, and we need to know if you would be willing to take her?"

My mind was racing.  

For months when she was pregnant, Darryl and I had wondered whether we were going to have to take in this new baby.  We asked the Case Planner a million times if we should buy another crib.  She kept saying to be prepared.  But then when the baby was born and she went home to mom, we figured that door was closed.  Now they were calling.

You have to know, I couldn't really say no (not that I would have). Had I said no, had I said I wasn't interested in taking a four month old, they would have said okay (you are never forced to take a child when you are fostering) but then within a matter of days, they would have found a foster home that would have taken both Kaylie AND Joshua.  There was no way we were going to let that happen.

"Of course," I said, "but what happened."  

The Agency representative on call said she really didn't know, that she would call me with more details.

So I went to the chiropractor.  I was so tense, it was like adjusting concrete.  During the session, my phone rang and I had to jump off the table and take it (he knows I'm a foster parent and knows the deal... he's also a father of three little ones himself).  

It was The Agency again.  They said to pick up Kaylie at the office around 5.  Shit.

I called Darryl and told him.  He was not as shocked as I was.  He was more... resigned, I guess, like he knew it was a matter of time.

I called Joshua's Case Planner who did NOT know what was going on.  I filled her in with what little info I had.  I told her I was afraid that if Kaylie was taken that Joshua's mother would hurt herself. I really was.

I went on Facebook (not to talk about it but because I guess I'm conditioned) and the first thing that popped up was Joshua's mother LIVE STREAMING THE COPS AND CPS COMING TO TAKE KAYLIE!

WTF!!!

She was screaming and curing and addressing her FB audience, "Guys, they want to take my baby.  You're not taking my fucking baby!  I'm a good mother!"  

She streamed them reading the reason they were taking Kaylie.  She streamed her cursing at them (and her mother).  She streamed her saying, "You better make sure she goes to Rebecca!"

And that is how, one year and six days after we got Joshua, we got his baby sister too.

A Year with Joshua

And just like that, it was a whole year that we had Joshua a year.  It seemed unreal.  Prior to having Joshua, the longest we had ever had a placement was six months, and that was unofficially (Bram was technically only with us for four months, even though he stayed with us an additional two).  Even if we counted all of the time Bram was with us, this was double.

September 24 was twelve months that Joshua was in care. His mom was still having her visits at The Agency, even though they were pop ins (mostly unsupervised visits at The Agency where a worker pops in every once in a while to check on them).  She was not having visits at home.  She was not having overnights or anything like that.  Really, there had been no progress in the case.

Let's review "the law" according to the judge and Joshua's law guardian:

--if a child is in care 15 out of 22 months, then parents' rights are terminated (called TPR:  termination of parental rights) and the child is freed for adoption.  The foster family is always offered the first option to adopt the child.  Of course we would.  We loved him.  

Joshua had been in care 12/12 months.  He was with us half his life.  He didn't remember living with his parents.  He only remembered us.  Sure, he enjoyed his visits with his mother, or at least I assumed so (I wasn't there), but she posted videos on Facebook and he seemed happy enough.  At the same time, he never asked for her, never cried for her.  His visits with her were like playdates.  I wondered if he'd miss the if they stopped...

Joshua's law guardian also told us that TPR could be filed if the child was in care 12 out of 12 months.  And he was. 

December would be 15.  Would TPR happen?

When we went to court every few months, the judge would look at his mom's progress and say, "do X, Y, and Z and we will review your case next time."

It's shitty, honestly, and not because of the torture it puts on me or on the bio parents.  It's torture for the kids.  Could you imagine Joshua going home after all this time?

I don't know if I wrote about Grandma Cindy, but our neighbor who LOVES Joshua told me, "if he goes home, that's it, you aren't fostering anymore!  I can't keep getting attached to these kids!"

Me neither, Cindy, me neither.

Joshua's Birthday

Of course, we went all out for Joshua's birthday.  He was two, and it was the first time a foster had been with us for a birthday!

Joshua was OBSESSED with school buses.  When we would drive home from daycare, he would scream whenever he saw a bus, "School bus!"  If he saw a city bus, he would scream, "City school bus!" So yes, he had to have a school bus themed birthday party.

When Miles turned three, I rented out the Children's Museum for his birthday, and it was a big hit. I figured I would do the same for Joshua.  I ordered him a school bus shirt with his name and a big number two from Etsy (my friend Whitney taught me the art of personalized birthday shirts, and I'm forever thankful!)

We invited every child from his classroom at school, Miles, Bram, and my friend Whitney and Nicole's kids.  And of course, I invited Joshua's family.  I told his mom she could invite whoever she wanted, as long as she told me how many kids would be there so I could have enough goodie bags.  Many people from her side of the family, including her friends, came, and so I was happy that Joshua got to see his family.  His baby sister was there too.

I wish I could say I took a lot of pictures, but I did not. I was too much in hostess mode, making sure everything was perfect.  Just know that Joshua had a blast and everyone seemed happy.  Even the fruit kabobs that I made -- and that my brother said no one would eat besides parents -- was completely gone.  

We opened Joshua's presents at home, much to Miles's disappointment.  Big boy that he is, he could NOT understand why Joshua would take so long to open one present and then would want to PLAY with it rather than open the rest.  Miles very much wanted to open them too, insisting, "My brother Joshua said I could open them!"  Even when Grandma Cindy, our neighbor from across the street, came over with gifts, poor Miles was heartbroken when he asked, "Is this for me?" and she said, "No, honey, I didn't know you were here, and so I only brought over Joshua's presents."  

Poor Miles.

Probably the best part of Joshua's birthday was the school bus.  A few weeks earlier, I had approached someone at Birnie Bus, our local school bus company, and asked if Joshua could get a tour of a school bus in the bus yard for his birthday.  The woman called back and said because of insurance purposes, that wouldn't happen. I totally understood.

"But," she said, "give me your address and I'll drive by with a school bus on his special day."

Can you believe it???

After school on his birthday, we just so happened to be playing on the porch when a bus drove down the block.  Of course, we had our customary, "School bus!" scream, but this time it was different.  This time the bus slowed down.  This time the bus STOPPED in front of our house.  Joshua's face was frozen.

us, sit in the seats, try on the seat belts, and even sit on the driver's lap and honk the horn.  He was so excited, he could hardly speak.  

In total, she was there maybe 15 minutes, but let me tell you, she made that little boy's day.  I will forever be thankful.

That night, our little family took Joshua to Friendly's for dinner and ice cream.  He was so happy when they brought him his octopus ice cream and sang to him. 

I can honestly say, mama, ya did good!

Jersey Shore

We did indeed return to Point Pleasant Beach that summer, just Darryl, Joshua and me.  My Aunt's house had a LOT of people in her house, and I learned that it was pretty routine for her house to be a crash pad for her husband's adult children and friends.  I figured, how bad could it be?  They are adults.  They know that my cousin and her baby are here and Joshua is here... it isn't like they are going to stay up all night and drink.

Um.  Yes, yes they did.

My cousin Maria, her boyfriend, and their baby took over the one guest room, which was fine.  They got there first.  Everyone else was camped around the living and dining rooms, including us, on air mattresses.  Except we had a baby with us.  And we were in bed by 11 every night.  

Once I got up at 4 AM to pee and they were all still up and drinking in my Aunt's very big backyard, celebrating... the Fourth of July, I guess.  There had to be 20 people there.  We would have to climb over people, passed out drunk on their air mattresses, in order to leave in the morning. 

And that's what we did.  We would get up early (if we woke them up, oh well!), shower, dress, and head out to the boardwalk with Joshua.  We ate breakfast and lunch on the boardwalk.  We did NOT attempt the beach for several reasons:

1.  $10/person per day (I'm too cheap for that)
2.  it was so crowded that strangers' towels were mere inches apart (no.  I was a fan of social distancing wayyyy before the Corona Virus), and 
3.  my skin hasn't seen the sun since 1988 (seriously, I was covered up like it as winter).

And then there was the fact that Joshua, my fair-skinned redhead, burned like mad, even with SPF100 applied every other hour and a hat!  

Still, we paid for the expensive pizza and soggy zeppoles that were NOTHING like I remembered from my childhood.  We had fun, despite the fact that it was way over 90 degrees and so humid that my clothes were soaked down to my underwear (I don't want to hear "it's because you wear all black."  Joshua and Darryl were not in all black and they were as sweaty as I was, so shut it.)

My brother came down on the weekend with Miles and we hit the boardwalk rides HARD.  Joshua enjoyed them ten times more with Miles there.  He loves Miles (and still does).  Miles is, to Joshua, the epitome of big boy coolness.  I mean, he wears big boy underwear and everything.

We watched the fireworks over the ocean, which I guess was cool.  And then I remembered that I loathe crowds and am not especially fond of rude New Jersey people who make up said crowds.  


Still, Joshua had fun, and that made it all worth it.

Clean

Kaylie went home with her mother and grandmother because, at least in New York State, as long as a mom is drug-free at the time of delivery, CPS allows her to take the baby home.  

Nope, it didn't matter that Joshua was in foster care.  It didn't matter about her compliance with services or drug screens or any of that.  The baby was free to go home with her family.

Joshua's mom friended me on Facebook and sent me many, many pictures of baby Kaylie.  

I still worried. I worried a lot.

Big Brother

The second court date with Joshua, way back in October after we first got him, his mother told me she was pregnant.  She was only a few weeks, but she said she knew her body and that she was pregnant.  She hadn't been to a doctor yet, but she was seriously considering having an abortion because 1) she was homeless, and 2) she felt she needed to put all her energy into getting her life together so she could get Joshua back.  

Made sense to me.

But she didn't have an abortion.  Joshua's father went to jail.  Joshua's mom and maternal grandmother got an apartment together.  They had visits with Joshua at The Agency (but weren't really consistent).  She was determined to do right by this baby AND get Joshua back.  

Again, a good plan.

Darryl and I kept asking our case planner if we should be planning on taking this baby too when s/he was born.  She said she didn't know.

Because here's the thing:  just because you have a kid (or several kids) in foster care and have another baby and get to take that baby  home.  I know. I don't get it either.  You would THINK that if the home was unsafe for one kid, it would be unsafe for all kids of those parents, but no.  That's not how it works.  

So we just kept in touch with Joshua's mother and asked how she was.  I crocheted her a baby blanket in the color of her choice (pink) when she found it she was having a girl.  She told me her name would be Kaylie Mae, which would have also been Joshua's name had he been a girl.

I was supportive of Joshua's mom, urged her quit smoking (she didn't) and keep up with all her services (she didn't) and to make sure she didn't test positive for anything she wasn't supposed to test positive for (she did.)

Joshua's mom had a very difficult pregnancy.  She was regularly in pain and went to the ER a lot.  I worried about her and the baby, but what could I do except be a cheerleader?  She went to rehab for a few weeks.  She said she was on the right path now...  She also said that Joshua's father was not this baby's father because she did the math.  Uh-oh.

And then one warm day in May, Kaylie Mae was born.  Joshua's mother texted me and after work, Joshua and I drove to the hospital to meet his new sister.  

He wasn't really interested in her, but he drank juice and sat on the hospital bed with his mother.  They had snacks and watched TV.  No other visitors were there. No flowers.  No balloons.  I felt guilty for not bringing any, at least from Joshua.  I remembered my own delivery when I was kicking people out of the room so many people wanted to visit.  This was just sad.  The room was sad.  I was sad.

So I held the baby (a guaranteed cute for anti-sadness for me). She was nondescript as most newborns are.  She looked like the newborn pictures I had seen of baby Joshua.  She was bald as can be

I wondered if I would be getting a call in a few days.

Easter With Joshua

So life went on with Joshua, and life was good.  Every once in a while we would get a call from The Agency to take a 17-year-old for respite, but we always said no.  We settled into a nice rhythm.  Joshua continued to go to daycare.  Tiernen worked on her graduate work.  Darryl and I went to work.  We were a happy family of four.  

Joshua grew and picked up words and started having opinions and was an overall great little boy.  

That year, my cousin was getting married in Brooklyn the Friday before Easter, so we packed up the whole family and drove to my Aunt's house in Point Pleasant Beach, New Jersey (where Jersey Mike's originated, for those who care... I don't, by the way, but I digress).  On Friday we went to the wedding and Tiernen stayed at my Aunt's with Joshua.  

On Saturday, the weather was perfect, so we took a walk to the beach and boardwalk.  My Aunt was all excited because apparently over Easter weekend you can buy tickets 50% off and use them all summer.  She had me buy a ton for Alexander and Miles (her grandson and my nephew).  She added, "and Joshua too, so he can come visit Aunt Cathy and go on the rides."  Of course, the unspoken truth was that we didn't know IF we would have Joshua in the summer...  

We walked on the boardwalk and walked on the beach (did you know it is EXPENSIVE to go to the beach in New Jersey?  We are talking $10/per person per day.  Nope, not me.  Give me free Maine and California beaches...)  Still, this was April and it was still way too cold to swim, so New Jersey couldn't cash in on it's beaches.  We were allowed to walk as much as we wanted.  Joshua looooved it.

We played cheesy boardwalk games and a little girl gave Joshua a stuffed animal that she won (awww).  We ate New Jersey shore pizza and ice cream and looked at the empty cages that would soon be filled with hermit crabs with obnoxiously painted shells.  If we have Joshua, we've come in the summer, we decided.  If...

The next day was Easter.  Joshua had only the faintest understanding of Easter.  He knew he did NOT like the Easter Bunny and WOULD NOT sit on his lap for a picture at the mall.  We had one of Bram the year before and were hoping to have one of Joshua.  Nope. He made that pretty clear:  No Santa Claus.  No Easter Bunny.  We woke up and presented him with his basket that was left by the Easter Bunny.  He was mildly interested in the school bus and the organic snacks.  Mostly, he was interested in Alexander's toys that were on my Aunt's porch.  

We had had Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, my nephew's birthday, and now Easter with Joshua.  Summer was coming and we would have Fourth of July and then Joshua's second birthday.  My extended family was used to him and more importantly, he knew and loved them.  

I didn't want to think about the upcoming court cases and Joshua going home, but that's just a part of foster care.

The shittiest part.