Things Learned the Hard Way

A full length art smock does not guarantee that paint won't get on little boy pants.

Paint smocks are a must for painting OF ANY KIND.

Nothing gets fabric paint out of little boy dress shirts, unfortunately.

There's "play" clothes & "dress" clothes for a reason!

Saaaaa-turday...in the Park...

Feeeeels like the ForthofJuly....

~~~~~~~
After a nice Saturday morning of cereal, Wii & more Wii, the four of us betook ourselves out for some lunch (Jimmy Johns, what what!) & an afternoon at the park.

After much debate between Greg & I, we ended up at the River parks 41st plaza, across from our old
Apartment complex (Memmmmories....)

The boys played on the jungle gyms for quite awhile, more comfortable interacting with G & I than kids of the other kids there.

Then they wanted to explore down closer to the river, which Tulsans will know is not the most sanitary of options, although it turned out to be more adventurous than any of us guessed.

G. & the Boys went down a hill just north of the spillway by the park to investigate the waterline.

I watched for a bit from the park patio, but went downhill to join them when they started yelling for me. The boys were very excited about something & dragged me towards the rocky outcroppings. G grinned at me as I peered between rocks to discover that Big Bro had discovered a snake of no
small size, nestled in the rocks.

The boys were freaking out over this snake & then started arguing over whether it was alive or dead.

G. being the problem solver that he is, picked up a pebble and pinged the exposed coils of the striped snake.

We all jumped back when the snake flinched and rustled.

Well, to be more specific, I jumped and the Boys took off sprinting up the hill, screaming a the top of their lungs!

G & I chortled with laughter as we followed them up the hill and along the river path as they ran off their energy rush. Then we went back to the house exhausted and spent from our adventure, for some "quiet time."

Urgent Care

I hit silent on my phone when it rang at 9:30, as I was enjoying a mid-morning nap. G. had taken the boys to school, since they start late on Friday (why, I have no idea).

A few minutes later, G's distinctive ringtone woke me again. When I picked up, I could barely understand what he was saying. Something about the school nurse, Little Bro, school policy, blah blah, something something.- I was foggy.

I broke into a cold sweat, however, when he said, "he needs to be picked up from school & taken to the doctor."

Worried that he was puking again, I sat bolt upright, only to lay back down with a groan when G. clarified, no, no, the RINGWORM he picked up at the school playground (over a MONTH ago) had flared up again and his teacher who had been "keeping an eye on it" had sent him to the nurse; who called us, to come get him... because school policy is to have ringworm sites covered...but they can't cover his because it's on his head...and hats are against the dress code. Um, ok.

In any case, nurse tells me (once I roll out of bed & trundle down to the school, which No is not anywhere close
to our house; in a different district, in fact), that I should probably take him a doctor, because he's probably contagious. Awesome.

Long story short: I call his worker, for a reccomendstion, since both little Bro & Big Bro were treated at the shelter for the ringworm infection (not caused by actual worms or anything, just a nasty fungus). Recommended doc doesn't have them on file, can't see Little Bro without an intake, no intakes until Tuesday. Set up intake, go to plan B- Urgent Care. Little Bro needs meds ASAP, as I am NOT keeping him home Monday and Tuesday for some stupid ringworm.

We hit up the local Urgent Care clinic where Little Bro & I wait forever, but are rewarded for our patience with 2 suckers and a cute doctor, respectively.

Back to our end of town to drop of the prescription, late lunch, then BACK down to the school to pick up Big Bro, who of course has no idea anything's amiss.

Chatted with the nurse again, who still seemed miffed about what to do about the while school policy issue; although I'd dearly love to see her try to tape a bandage to his curly head!

The kicker is that the treatment for ringworm is typically a steroidal ointment of some kind, BUT BECAUSE his spot is on his head, it's not effective and he has to take a syrup. Which, in order for the medicine to be most effective, he has to BREAK A SWEAT 20-30 minutes after he ingests it, as in the medicine will only be able to kill the fungus when it is EXCRETED through the pores of head. WTF.
~~~~~~
Thanks for all the messages of concern, he's fine & the medicine, while icky will start to do its work soon.
We hope.

Roller coaster

Today was a roller coaster of behavior.

Thursday is library day & the past two times we've been, The Boys have behaved admirably well. Today was a hellscape in comparison.

The low point was Little Bro dodging me in the book stacks, chortling with glee at getting away from me. I now know what it's like to blush from shame under a librarian's disapproving eye. Oy.

Shortly after we got home, we had a visit from a new therapist for the Boys.

Yeah. That went well. Like they ate jumping beans before he got there.
They wouldn't sit still, wouldn't answer his questions, were generally awful.
He was all, "are they on any meds?"
Ha! Does it look like they are?!

Good luck to him, hope he can get past their wildness.

After that double loop of bad behavior, I fixed dinner, did their chores without issue (emptying dishwasher & taking out trash), had a lovely dinner, homework went smoothly (tie for Homework Champion!). Yay!

Then came bath time, which started as soccer time in the front yard. We got finished with homework early, so I let them play outside for a bit. All jolly good fun, until they refused to come in.

And when I did chase them into the house, proceeded to shriek and run in circles. And shriek some more.

Then, despite my best intentions about not raising my voice today, I did. Boy did I. I hollered & grabbed blindly for elbows to haul a kid, any kid to the bathroom.

I have never so badly wanted to paddle a kid, as I did in those moments. But we're not allowed to (and honestly, it's a good thing- it would have been out of pure anger). So I yelled instead. It got them in the shower, but left me sagging in exhaustion & horror at my own anger.

~~~

As we were wrapping up shower time, a dear neighbor friend stopped by to say hi & meet the boys.
And of course they were LOVELY to her, giving parting hugs and the whole nine yards.

Once I got them into bed, read a story, got hugs kisses, gave drinks of water, etc, and then gave them my ultimatum.
No getting out of bed, or no special lunch for school in the morning.

10 minutes later, they were up.
I let Greg put them back to bed. I cracked open a new bottle of wine.
Thank goodness tomorrow is a new day.

Wisdom from Mr. Greg

Mind tricks for bedtime (via FB):
"If you ask them who's going in the shower, they point at each other. Ask who wants to be Shower Champion and they fight each other to get to the bathroom."

(Totally worked!)

Adorable

Almost without fail, Little Bro will proclaim a new dish delicious, or as he says, "da-LISH-us!!"

It's adorable.

So far, he has proclaimed:
Avacado
Chocolate-banana smoothies
Stir Fry
Waffles
all delicious. Love it.

.

Picturesque

This afternoon (Monday) after school, the boys & I built tents in the backyard.
I raided the linen closet for old sheets & blankets and gave them a bunch of stick, props, string & freedom.

~~~~~~~~~~

What the picture below does not capture is the frustration of Big Bro to build anything, the adorable elation of little bro & my own "assistance" in rigging up the triple tent monstrosity.

In fact, the 15 minutes of quiet, peace and enjoyment they got out of the tent was surrounded by griping, whining, wheedling, & major pouting.

It seems we have to work So. Hard. to get to something good, something worth remembering. I wonder if it's worth it.

Truth be told, I sent them outside to play, so I could sit in the living room- alone. I watched them "go fish" in a bucket of water. Then add bubbles to the water. Then fight over the bubble maker (that's where the tent idea came in). It seems to hard for them to just be; it's certainly hard for me to let them be who they are. I want them to be: better behaved, less whiny (omg the whining), less demanding, & generally, quieter.

But we learned in training that you have to love them where they are, not where your expectation of them is...Lord knows, the two are sometimes very far apart.

EDITED UPON FURTHER REFLECTION: of course the weird thing here, is that the boys are so outgoing and don't fit with MY concept of what a"traumatized child" should look like that I often forget that they are with us for a reason...& therefore shouldn't be as irked as I am by some of their behaviors. Works in progress, all of us.

Rant Ahead: Zombie mornings

I do not understand how little boys can wake up at 7:30 on a Saturday morning so they can play the Wii but not manage to get out of bed at 7:30 on a school day! They were like zombies, moaning, groaning, drooling....

It was so frustrating! And then Little Bro had the GALL to fake big crocodile tears in the bathroom when I told him to wash his face and brush his teeth!

We were more than 10 minutes late to school today. Which means at the boys' school that is SO late that the "hey you're tardy come in and sign your kids in" sign has already been taken in... That is EMBARRASSINGLY late.

I do NOT know what to do about getting these kids out of bed in the morning. Any suggestions?

I'm pretty sure that a taser would be a violation of DHS policy. So, I'm thinking bullhorn.

Sunday Funday

Even on our "day of rest", the boys are active. Today we went to church (they are loving LifeKids- even if the name tag stickers prove a temptation to acting out by sticking them on each others' faces...sigh. 2 steps forward, 1 step back I guess.

After church, we had a quick lunch at McDonalds, then swung by Lowes to pick up some flowers & potting soil- Earth Day, ya know.

After we got home, they boys did some crafts- painting their Dollar Tree piggy banks (part of last night's allowance spree) & doing one of those melty bead things (which they of course broke 10 minutes later in a fight over candy)..

After that they wanted to help Greg build a potting bench (that he'd been promising me for forever). As he pulled tools & scrap lumber out of the garage, they chased each other with the water hose until they were both soaked. After that, I let them wash the cars, which was the MOST FUN EVER.

Then we trooped in the house for quiet time (coloring) & Veggie Tales; tgen chicken strips, bath (now graduated to showers) & "Cat in the Hat Comes Back"- small argument about whether it was "came back" or "comes back". Big Bro was adamant it was the former, despite the cover of the book.

I loved that the boys spent all day running in & out of the house; doors & windows open; flip flops on & shirts off; shrieking in the sunshine, sleeping hard & fast by the moonlight.

Mowing the grass

Little Bro, who I'm afraid is becoming my favorite-largely for his willingness to help, in contrast to his elder brother's resistance to do anything that is not his idea- helped me mow the grass on Saturday.

It's another maintenance item that has fallen off considerably since the boys arrived in our lives. Combined with the twin impediments of rain & sinus infections (for BOTH G. & I now), the result was a veritable jungle of lawn.

Little Bro watched with fascination as I filled the gas tank, checked the oil, & tried to start it.

After calling Greg to start the damn thing (it was clogged from previous mowing adventures), we took off.

He pushed with all his might and I hung off the side of the handle trying to ensure some semblance of a straight line.

Up and down the rows, up and down. We waved at passing cars, smiled at neighbors walking the dogs on the early afternoon warmth and grunted as we swung into the corners.

He bent his head in concentration, pushing with all his might, trusting me to guide the mower.

A simple chore, but based on the smile that split his face as I high-fived him,
a memorable accomplishment.

Shoe Shopping

Today after school, I made a brave foray into the wild world of shoe shopping, for the boys.

We hit up JCPenny for some summer flip-flops & some new sneakers. Lord bless the sales guy who put up with us trying on half the shoes on the shelves!

Eventually we picked out a pair of slip-on Vans for Little Bro (yay no laces!) & some cool lace up Vans with blue accents for Big Bro.

Since we were buying them on a limited DHS voucher (provided specifically for purchasing clothes & shoes), I needed to max it out, so we went upstairs to the boys department.

The boys of course bee-lined for the display of "Avengers" shirts (with toy!).
I plopped them on the floor, with my iPhone to watch PBS Kids videos, while I looked around some more.

As I browsed, the sales gal asked her usual, "Do you need any help?" then, hesitantly, "Are you their worker?", glancing at the boys, happily engrossed in their movie.

"Their foster mom", I replied, shyly.

Then, unexpectedly, "I-- I'm actually the one who called Protective Services on their [situation]."

Dumbstruck, I could only nod, as she spilled the details of the worst day of my boys' life.

Although she had called DHS because she was concerned about the welfare of two small boys, it sent them spiraling into upheaval & trauma, hurtling straight into our lives, into our arms.

It was a surreal moment, & all I could do was manage to thank her & to assure her that they were doing well.

In a daze, I let the boys get the silly the Avengers' shirt/toy combo and herded
them both downstairs to pay for the lot of it; grateful for the chance to get them
what they need, and some of what can make them happy again.

Little Bro + Lola out for walkies

17 Days with The Boys

Due to DHS regulations, I cannot share any identifying information about our foster children on this blog (i.e. no proper names, identifying pictures or other information).

What I can tell you is this: they are brothers, ages 6 & 8, about a year and a half apart, but only 1 year in school apart. They are friendly, active, exhuburant and delightful (most of the time).

They are also stubborn, have selective hearing and are far too clever for their own good (like most boys their age, I suppose).

I call them Big Bro and Little Bro on the blog.

They are different in their own ways, too of course.

Big Bro is shyer when meeting strangers, has more of a 'wall' up when being disciplined, glowers when displeased and has a slow smile when amused.

Little Bro is more gregarious with strangers, has deep dimples and his whole face splits into a grin when he laughs (which is often); when he's mad/sad/displeased/any negative emotion, he pouts. It's a rather impressive full body pout, though: whole body goes stiff, head drops and his bottom lip sticks waaaaay out.

Although they are African-American, the oldest has a 'white' sounding name. The younger has a very steriotypically black first name, but actually goes by his middle name, which is more 'white' sounding. Sometimes I wonder which name he will choose to use as he gets older.

The DHS workers tell us we are extremely lucky to have kids like these. It's their first placement and their situation was one of neglect, not abuse. And while they are not suffering from major physical trauma, they have behaviors and issues of their own.

It doesn't feel like we're lucky; they are a lot of work- they are so energetic that it's all Greg and I can do to collapse on the couch after we herd them into bed. And, from what we can tell, their home life was very unstructured (no formal bedtime, no chores, etc). So we are having to put into place those kinds of structures while also dealing with their energy, attitudes, feelings of abandonment, etc. Frankly my dear, it's exhausting.

We've had them for 17 days. 17 hilarious, chaotic, frustrating, joyful days.

I think these pics of their bedroom illustrate the past two and a half weeks well.
Below: Day before they arrived; room styled to perfection.

Aaaaaand: This morning. Yup, two boys live here.

World's Most Embarassing Afternoon, a sequel to World's Worst Morning

After the Vomitus Morning of Doom, I came home from the the university where I teach to relieve Greg of his childcare duties (work from home flexibility, what what!).

That morning's excitement had been compounded by the fact that I myself did not feel good having been diagnosed with sinitus (or hateful sinuses) the day before.

That afternoon, after Little Bro had woken up and declared himself "feeling better now!" and we'd read together on the couch (awwww) and downloaded some new educational iPad apps, I laid for a nap, and set the alarm for an hour, which would have given me a good 20 minutes to get out the door to pick up Big Bro from school.

Two hours later, my phone rings, waking me and Little Bro, who's also fallen asleep, up with a start. It's the principal of the school, who sweetly asks if I intend on picking Big Bro up? Well, better hurry because the staff leaves in 15 minutes (which is bullshit, by the way; Extended Day staff is there till 6).

I apologize profusely, attempt to explain, apologize again and tell her I'm on my way.

Little Bro is stretching and pulling a blanket over his head as I tell him to get up (ack! get up!), so I pick him up (all 50+ pounds and almost 4 feet of him) and haul it to the car.

We careen into the school parking lot for the 2nd time that day, pick up Big Bro & hightail it back home, where I let them eat crackers on the new sofa and play on the iPad for the rest of the afternoon.

Worst Morning Ever- BAR NONE

Apparently, when a child says his stomach hurts...you should a) believe him & b) hustle him to the bathroom.

I did neither on Wednesday morning. And suffered greatly for it.

Little Brother awoke complaining of a tummy-ache and I was all, "Sorry to hear it, now get up." thinking he was stalling on getting up, as both the boys take foreeeeeeever to get out of bed on a typical school morning.

The words were barely out of my mouth before small fountain of vomit errupted from HIS mouth. Ah!

Greg (my husband) and Big Bro both muttered, "Gross!" as Little Bro continued to wretch in his bed. Gross is right.

When he stopped, I yanked him out of bed, hustled him to the bathroom, stripped him of his pajamas and had him kneel at the ivory throne. Poor guy.

The next wave came and he didn't really get much out.

And therein lies my fatal mistake. I assumed he was done.

Greg got both the boys dressed as i stripped the bed and threw the sheets, pillowcases, etc into the wash. Miraculously, we managed to get in the car and leave for school on time. We were literally 2 blocks from the school when Little Bro announced from the back seat that he was going to be sick again. And he was. Twice.

I could do nothing but look in horror, over my shoulder, as we were still in traffic. Big Bro kindly handed him some Wet Wipes as I mumbled, "ohshitohshitohshit". We careened into the school parking lot, whereupon Big Bro made a dash for the entrance, yelling "I'll tell his teacher he's sick!!!!!" In vain, I shouted, "You don't have to tell her, I'll call.....!!" while trying to wipe up watery vomit with Wet Wipes (not super effective).

Little Bro came home with me, slumped in the backseat, sick, covered in sick and generally miserable.

We got him situated on the couch with a puke bowl, a blanket and his stuffed racoon. He puked 1x more then fell asleep, exhausted.

I cleaned out the car, got dressed and went to teach my 10am class (watching a movie, thank god), while Greg stayed home with Little Bro.

What. A. Morning.

p.s. Shout out to our lovely friend, M.W. for the care package of apple juice, jello, crackers and apple sauce. He loved it and refers to the crackers as, "Mine, from when I was sick"

Little Bro at the Library

Mesmerized by Power Rangers...

2nd trip to the Library

After school, I took the boys to the library. We had books and CDs to return and they were excited to get new ones!

Unfortunately, when we got to Hardesty Library, they seemed to be more interested in playing Power Rangers Samuri on Nick Jr.com, than picking out new books. Thank goodness there's a time limit on computer usage!

In the end, we got to do both- pick out new books for evening reading, some new CDs for their CD player (Toy Story, Veggie Tales and another They Might be Giants album).

As we were checking out, via librarian- instead of the machine- behaviors started to develop. There was a lot of dancing around and they got louder and louder. I'm sure the librarian was less than impressed with my croaking at them "get back here! You can't take the CDs out before you've checked it out! It'll set off the alarm! Come HERE!"

~~

We had no sooner gotten home and got unloaded, than Big Bro wanted to play Wii. When I told him no, he pouted. He asked about the iPad- got another no. Threw a fucking fit and earned himself a time-out. Had to remind him of the "screen time" rule (1 hr/day, max). I then tried something new, letting him know that it was his choice- he could choose what he wanted to spend his screen time on, in the future. He seemed to be intregued by this idea, if annoyed that he'd spent his time on the computer, instead of his beloved Wii. LOL.