Such a Terrific Day

Hey - I have to tell you all what a wonderful event the ladies of Light of Life church in Kent put on for Kam's van this past Saturday. It was a rainy day - shocking, right? - and despite the rain, they had a room packed with tables and displays and shiny things. There was a raffle going on; candles lit; chocolate (score!); balloons; and more.

I took my hats, too. Now, my original plan was to have daughter Kelsey there to act as back-up for the monsters (you know who I mean). I know my fam, and their ability to maintain in a social situation starts to degrade after about an hour, tops. And in our family, when they are done, the gloves come off.

The trouble was, Kelsey's college had graduation right at that same time. She's going into her senior year and had a ton of friends graduating. And, in my opinion, Kelsey's given a pretty big chunk of her twenty-one years helping with the "little kids." I insisted that she go to the graduation. "I can handle the kids, Kels. I do it all the time."

Big words.

The event went from 10am - 3pm. That's five hours. Yeah...you can see where this is headed.

We were late to begin with. Not surprising. When I think of analogies to getting us all ready and out the door for anything, I think of how difficult it must be to, say, maneuver a massive cruise ship or one of those jumbo-sized container vessels through the Panama Canal. You know, they don't exactly turn on a dime. You need lots of lead time.

Plus, we had lots of things to load up: wheelchair, backpacks full of potential distractions for all three kids, the boxes with my hats and stuff, flyers, and changes of clothes (just in case). Totally forgot food or snacks. But, hey, I'm not perfect, right?

We got to the event just before 11am, and I have to say, the kids did pretty well. Klaryssia tried to talk to anything and anyone that moved (nothing new here), Kobi exhibited his newly-emerging rebellious behaviors (glassy stare, ever-so-slightly raised eyebrow in response to my requests, and flat out ignoring me), and Kameron tried to hug anyone nearby. This can be a little off-putting, because since he's sitting down, his hugs land around most folk's hips. Awkward.

But, they eventually settled in, and kept busy for quite awhile. I was proud of them. We made it almost to the end, and they really had a great time. It was only in those last hours that Kam hit Klaryssia and she squealed loud enough to be heard in the next state, and Kobi hit Kam because Kam wanted Kobi's Nintendo DS, and Kam started trying to wheel his chair over everyone in his path because he wanted to go outside in the rain and play basketball.

But before all that, these wonderful women spoiled us and came over to meet us, and just generally made us all feel very welcome. I wish I knew everyone's names to say personal thank yous. The kids and I are so grateful for your efforts, and we had an amazing time. God bless you, every one!

Mid Winter Break

Okay, what's the deal with this Mid-Winter Break stuff? We never had this back in the day. We had Christmas and Easter break, then Summer. With a few holidays sprinkled in. No wonder America's doing so horribly academically. The kids are never in school.

Boy I'll tell you, a week at home with your two and a half special kids (Kobi is only about 1/2 "special" ) during freezing cold weather will definitely bring out Ms. Crabby Mom. At least it did in me.

Whoa.

I don't think they got to stay up late one night. The three of them make a potent recipe for mommie madness. Kameron and Klaryssia are both crazy stubborn, then throw in Kobi, my Drama King, and I'm frankly amazed we all survived the week.

Bickering (of the "she's looking at me" sort), mixed with boy-type exploits and my attempts to keep on top of work and school assignments (while feeding and caring for their needs) made for some interesting times. One afternoon, the Kameron managed to squeeze the filling out of a special gel-filled pillow left over from the last hospital stay. This was when the boys were playing in their room with the door closed. Closed doors are always a recipe for disaster, I think. Kobi decided to clean up the white foamy mess, and so water was added to this stuff.

It turns greasy with water.

By the time they came to get me to fix things, the white grease mess was everywhere. On both beds, in hair, on clothes, on the wall, all over the wood floor...you get the picture.

It took awhile to figure out how to get it off. BTW, in case this ever happens to you, the Swiffer wood floor mix doesn't do it; the Swiffer all-purpose floor cleaner, judiciously applied and dried with a towel afterwards, does.

Kobi did the drying.

I can't remember which day this was; they've all run together like a watercolor painting left in the rain...but today everyone's back to school. I'm hopeful I'll get some good work done.

I need to build up a backlog before Spring Break.

Why Special Needs Kids?

Okay, so we've established that I'm completely nuts. Not only did I decide, fifteen years ago, to become a foster parent as a single mother, I already had two children, but what the heck??? I decide to be the foster parent to special needs children. See? Nuts. But wait, there's more!

THEN I decide to adopt some of the little boogers. Whoa. Certifiable.

Yes, I agree. People tell me I'm a freakin' saint. Not so. Not so at all, in fact.

I think it's more obedience. Foolish, sold-out obedience.

See, back when I was doing the big house, tons of foster kids, crazy ranch thing, I was also practicing a very simple faith. He said it, so I believed it.

His Word said to love as I'd been loved. I'd been transformed by His love, so I knew it was real. Therefore, I needed to love that way. Simple, right? Along came my first disabled foster children. Okay, they're a little odd. Yes, it was weird having teenagers in (gulp) diapers. But that love thing? It didn't have any strings about diapers on it that I could tell.

So, I loved them. And God took care of us.

More special kids came. Come to find out that "love" thing can cover a whole bunch of inexperience and lack. I learned about PTs, OTs, STs, and all the other "t"s. (Therapies). I learned about a whole cornucopia of medicines. Meds for Seizures, meds for constipation, meds for ADD and OCD and all that stuff. I literally had a tool box locked up filled with meds for these children.

Oh yeah, children. They were little people. On the foster care totem pole - which already has an awful lot of damaged and unwanted children - the DD/Special kids were pretty much at the bottom.

But they are children. And they are people. Little people let down by parents who probably were damaged themselves. Some of my kids were from "typical" homes where the dad couldn't hang and took off, leaving a mom alone with a child she couldn't find resources to raise. The way our system is set up, if you have a job and a special kid, you won't get much help. If you put him or her into foster care, though, then they can receive all kinds of services. Or, you can quit working and go on "assistance" yourself. Decisions, decisions.

So along the road of just loving these children, I found out a funny thing: I actually did love them.

Beyond the diapers and drool and slurred speech and repetitive behaviors and braces on body parts and range of motion and equipment needs and meds and doctors appointments and tooth brushing and IEP meetings and hospital stays and fighting with everyone to advocate for these kids . . . is the bottom line fact that they are children. They didn't ask to be born. They especially didn't ask to be born the way they are. They didn't ask to be abused or neglected or abandoned.

Someone has to care.

And I'm exceedingly glad it's me.

¹²He said also to the man who had invited him, "When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and you be repaid. ¹³But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, ¹⁴and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. Luke 14:12-14a

A Shameless Plea ...

Hi all -

The following is a shameless plea for help.

As many of you know, my now eleven year old son, Kameron, has had a pretty tough road. He was a 25 week premie with a grade four brain bleed (translated: he was born 3 months early because his biological mom couldn't stop hitting the crack pipe while she carried him and he should have never survived his extreme prematurity); after he came into my foster home at a year, on a ventilator and with a feeding tube in his tummy, he thrived, and around 3 years later, was off the vent, had the tube removed, and was looking great.

Then, when he turned five, he inexplicably began having massive migraine headaches, vomiting, seizures, and stroke-like symptoms. Turned out he had some crazy thing called Arteriovenous Malformations. Lots of them. They are kind of like aneurisms in his brain, threatening to burst and kill him. More than thirty procedures, including brain surgery, later - no more major seizures. In fact, he's been mostly seizure free since August 2008. Awesome!

So, now we address his other physical issues. Little man can't walk. He's been scooting on the floor, and with a special walker (called a gait trainer), he can move around some. To the Orthopedist we go. Now, we've been going to the Ortho doctor for years. But, this time, when we did a check-in hip x-ray, this is what it showed:

Now, I'm not a professional, but these babies looked bad, even to me. He needed surgery on both hips. The operation included cutting through both femurs (say WHAT?), bolting them back in the right place, and rebuilding his left hip socket.

Sure, says I. We can handle that. Ha. "We"? Kam's the one who went through it all. I just helped with the after care stuff. The surgery was September 14th, 2010. It lasted six hours, and he came out in a thing called a Spica Cast. It encased him from just below his nipple line down to his ankles, made him look a lot like a little plastic cowboy, you know, how their legs are in the ready-to-sit-on-the-saddle position? Like that.

And yes, there was a hole in the front and back for the personal hygiene stuff. Enough said.

He was home the entire six weeks, mostly because he was doped up on pain meds the first two weeks, couldn't poop the next one (kidding, kind of), and really because the only wheelchair I could fit him in was completely unable to be transported on a special bus. He had a tutor for a few hours each morning, Mr. Steve.

Transferring him from place to place - like bed to commode to wheelchair - was accomplished with the help of a thing called a Hoyer Lift. That's the pic at the top of this post.

Okay, so we get through this. He has the cast removed, and we start physical therapy, pool therapy, and getting back to school therapy. What didn't I plan for? Oh yeah. He's had major surgery on both of his legs. And both hips. Hummm. Guess there will be some weakness, pain, and general tough stuff. Yep.

But, he's a tough kid. "Survivor" doesn't begin to cover it. He is a bit cranky - ha! But, so am I by this point.

Bottom line, he, me, we, are all doing better. BUT the reason for this particular post is to, as I said, make a shameless plea for help. Kam is officially a paraplegic. Actually, I think they diagnose him as a quad, because he has a really weak left arm, and they don't call people tri-plegic. But, I don't have a way to transport him. I drive a Pacifica. It's kind of a station wagon. Not a van, not a sedan. In order to take Kameron to his many medical appointments, I have to lift him up into the bucket passenger seat, and then lift his wheelchair (which weighs 27 kilos - 59 pounds) into the back of the car.

Kam now weighs 110 pounds.

I am a strong woman, thank God. Really, I mean that. But, I am not getting any younger. And the years of caregiving are taking their toll. My back is prone to serious spasms, and frankly, I avoid taking Kameron out at all costs. Obviously, I make it to the necessary appointments; I have to. He has to see the PTs and the OTs and the doctors.

But, I have for years wanted to be able to take him out on regular family type things. To go to the park. To take him to the movies (although behavior can be a bit challenging...), for crying out loud, I'd like to just throw him in the car and go to the grocery store.

He needs a wheelchair van. Seriously.

I have looked into this for a long time; they aren't cheap. A new conversion van is in the 35k range. Funny thing is, I looked at a used Caravan, a 2000 Caravan, and the price on it was $20k. Even used, they are extremely pricey. And I just don't have the ability to finance one. There are some on Craigslist that are from the 90's that go for around $6,000, but I can't swing that right now, either. And he is getting bigger. We just got him fit for a larger wheelchair.

SOOOOO, I am asking for help. I added a "donate" button at the top of the blog. If any of you feel like you could or would be able to help in this, I would be beyond grateful.

Kam's had a some challenging times, and yet, he's a really good boy. He has a long road ahead, and frankly, as his sole caregiver, so do I.

Anything you can do would be so so so appreciated.

Thanks everyone. Oh, by the way, this is how his hips look now:

Aren't they BEAUTIFUL??

Big Dreams

I have big dreams for my little family. My older group - Kris, Kelsey, Elesha, and Kaleb - are all out of the house and pretty well on their ways. But for the three still at home - Klaryssia, Kameron, and Kobi - I have dreams.

The older kids all had pretty "typical" kid lives. Kris and Kelsey were involved in sports. Kris (Rain) played basketball and football through high school, both in school and on Colorado's version of AAU. He had a football and basketball scholarship for college. Kelsey did club gymnastics for many years, then switched to competitive and school cheering through her Senior year.

They went to dances, roller skated, and hung out with friends. We traveled all over Colorado, Nevada, and California for various tournaments and competitions - for both of them. In short, despite the decidely non-traditional family I built around them (the "original Rainwaters), I managed to give them a pretty well-rounded, fun upbringing. And they are really great young adults. I'm beyond proud of them.

But, these younger three haven't had those opportunities.

Most of their lives have been wrapped around Kameron and his intense medical needs. Months and months of their childhoods have been spent in waiting for Kam and me to go into the hospital; get out of the hospital; heal up from the last hospital visit; get ready for the next hospital visit.

Therapies, getting school arranged, getting medications (you'd be surprised how much time the whole prescription process can eat up); then just the regular stuff of regular life: laundry, grocery shopping, meal preparation and eating, keeping up on housework, homework (for Kobi), blah blah blah!

They haven't had too many opportunities for things like going to the Y to swim. Just heading down to the mall to walk around, or going for a family drive on a Sunday after church and maybe stopping off for fish and chips...or for after-school activities like the school carnival, or neighborhood movie night.

I'd like to enroll Kobi in martial arts classes, or drama. Definitely drama. Klaryssia could go to the Special programs they have for Special young adults at our local parks and rec department.

They are getting older, and I feel like the window I have for helping create childhood memories and experiences is slipping away for them. We spend most of our non-school/non-medical appointment time at home. Mostly because it's just so darned hard to get out. Things like helping Kam on and off a toilet take time - and when you are out, using a public restroom isn't the easiest - but it is possible.

But the biggest barrier is really the transportation. To be able to just lower a ramp, wheel him into a van, and strap everyone up and go? That sounds like a dream to me.

I can't wait. Thanks to everyone helping make this happen - thanks for caring,

Kathy, Kam, Kobi, and Klaryssia

Baby Tessa is here!!

Another lengthy silence - sorry everyone, it was a horribly busy year. Not bad, just busy.

But, the terrific news is that Rain & Kami's

beautiful baby girl, Tessa Jean, was born on her due date, December 11th, 2010. She weighed 8'8oz. and was 21" long. Wonderfully healthy, and so alert... Here's an early pic:

This was in the hospital when she was about 4 hours old - that's Rain's hand. Isn't she amazing???

I got to fly down to Arizona to meet her (and see Rain & Kami, of course) a few days after she was born. My wonderful, sweet, kind, tremendous (is that enough superlatives? Maybe a few more...), thoughtful, loving, responsible, and incredibly competent daughter Kelsey took over the homefront so I could leave. That's saying a lot, since Kameron is still rehabbing from his hip surgery (I may post about that later), and if you've read any of my previous posts, you know Kobi and Klaryssia can be a bit...um...draining. Not that I don't love them, of course!

Any way, I got to go to meet this, my first little Rainwater Granddaughter. And she is so precious. It was very hard leaving her there. I'm not super-experienced with extended family - my family is pretty much the group God's given me, my Dad and Mom live in other states, uncles and aunts are distant, and not super-communicative, no cousins to speak of, etc. So, having my crew around me is important. Having Kami, Kris, and now the baby in Arizona is just a major adjustment.

I'm sure I'll manage, but it's sad.

Here are some more pics for you to see!!

I know, it's disgusting how beautiful they are... ;-)

We're having a baby. Or, "Grandmom's Night Out"?

So, the BIG news is, I am going to be a Grandmother. That is the strangest sentence I've ever written. I don't even feel like a bona-fide mom sometimes. I still have three kids at home, for cryin' out loud!!

But, indeed, it is a factoid. Or a factoid to be.

This baby is coming from Kami and Kris, of course (or thankfully!). You may remember they got married last July...yes, it's soon for a baby, but they are excited and I know they will make great parents. I've seen them both with children. Especially mine. Believe me, if someone can handle the oddness of my "special" kids with grace and fun, they will make a tremendous parent.

And these two do.

Kris has always had an accepting and loving heart towards all the kids we've had through our crazy home over the years. I started fostering when he was eight. He grew up with run away teen-aged girls (I don't think one of them stayed put), raging boys with Muscular Dystrophy (he used to ram people with his electric wheelchair), and a variety of children needing diapers, assistive devices, feeding tubes, and more.

When Kameron (then Kenny) came into our house at the age of one, on a ventilator and trached, it was fifteen year old Kris who treked up to Denver Children's Hospital with me to learn how to disassemble and reassemble the ventilator. They required this before discharging Kenny to us, even though we had 24 hour nurses lined up. Kris learned, along with me, how to suction Kenny's trach so he wouldn't choke to death on his own mucus (sorry, it's a little graphic); and the amazing thing is, Kris had no problem with this - at least he never once complained or balked.

Once we got Kenny back to our house for good, a process that took about a month, I remember Kris standing over the huge red medical crib looking down on him through all the breathing tubes. Kenny was sucking on his fingers and looking around the room - very calm and quiet, and kicking his feet. Kris said, "You know, how do people complain about things? Look at him . . . if anyone ever had a reason to complain and be mad, it's him. And he's so happy. . ."

Pretty wise for fifteen. Pretty wise for any age.

As for Kami, his beautiful bride, she lived with us before they got married. Kris was in Oregon, playing basketball and taking a few classes, and Kami was going through Gene Juarez training school (to get licensed as a stylist), so she lived in our home - right there she gets bravery points. I mean, living with your future mother-in-law and her kids?? Especially my special kids.

She was terrific. Sweet, funny, completely real, and she had no problem with my munchkins. Kami is the real deal.

If she can handle all of us - she can handle anything.

I'm sure they wanted a little more alone time as a couple - it's pretty soon - but babies are a visual, breathing token of your love. How awesome is that? A little person made from each of you - wow.

To both of you: I am so proud to be your mom and mom-in-law. For the record, I think you two will be wonderful, caring, fun parents. And I am sure that you will have the time of your lives raising your kids...

Remember, you are never alone. God has gotten all of us this far, and He won't leave you now.

Oh, and EVERYONE is excited to be aunts and uncles. Let us know how we can help.

We love!

Is it Just Me?

My kids are mega-spoiled. They are more demanding than rock stars who want their water a specific temperature and all the green M&Ms picked out of the bowls before they arrive.

"I need the blue bowl. Did you give me the blue bowl?"

"What color is my cup?"

"We are out of ice cream. When are you going to the store, Mom?"

"I want Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Go to the store, Mom."

"No toilet paper."


"Did you record Mickey Mouse Clubhouse?"
"Today is my bath day. I want to take it with Kobi.
I want to be in the frontnoIwanttobeinthefrontnoit'smyturnnoit'smyturnnoit'smine. ItsMINEEEE"


So when I was cruising through some old pics I have stored on Shutterfly.com from ages ago, like eight years or so, I was pleased to find that they stirred up some mommy-appropriate emotions. Tell me what you think...keep 'em?

I Have a Confession. . .

I have a confession to make:  I haven't been to church in months.  Really, months.  Since Rain's wedding in July.  That's a very long time.

Why?

Lots of reasons, I think.  None of them good, none of them important enough to keep me from worshipping in fellowship with other believers.  I think.

Maybe it's just enough trouble within my heart and just enough difficulty getting there. I still haven't re-established a healthy communication with God; still not praying/talking with Him regularly; still not "in the Word" as we Christians like to say. . . I used to devour His Word.  Literally eat it up. 

I miss that.

I miss talking with Him and hearing from Him.

So, why am I resisting?  No clue.

I haven't stopped believing.  I know He's real.  I know He is good. I've walked with Him for twenty years. . .

Every Sunday, the kids ask if we're going to church. 

We don't go. 

It's always been difficult to go to church.  Well, not always.  Mostly since we moved to Colorado Springs, that's when the "difficult" started.  At that time, it was just me and Kelsey and Kris.  A young, firey white girl with two little bi-racial children (who were adorable!).  For years, I discounted the polite looks, the quiet exclusion from conversations, the sense that somehow my little family just didn't fit in. 

I found myself switching churches.  I'd never thought I'd be one of those.  After all, we have trouble relating in our families, why would a family of believers be any different?  But somehow, it was.  Somehow, my heart just couldn't take not mattering.  I was in Bible studies, in choirs, led children's worship with my trusty guitar, went on ladies retreats, joined small groups, led small groups. . .and still failed to make strong connections with anyone.

I was a single mother, going to the denomination's Bible College, working full time and taking classes full time, and still "ministering" in the church . . . and I never felt so alone.

It certainly didn't help when I bought a huge house out in the country and filled it up with handicapped children.  My enthusiasim and passion and belief carried us far - especially in making all the parts of the house and care for the children work - but even then, I couldn't truly connect to the Body.  When I approached the Pastor about someone from the fellowship helping with my special needs children in a Sunday school class (both for the children and for me, so I could attend services and not be sitting on the pavement outside holding an unruly child on my lap listening to the service over a speaker); his response was that if I felt there was a need, probably God was calling me to that.

Naively, I thought well, okay, and started a Special Needs Children's Sunday School class.  So, not only did I get to care for my kids 24/7 at home, I got to take care of them and other kids on Sundays, too.  And, I now had the extra job of finding helpers for the class.  Wow.

But, I don't want to go into all this here.  I mention it to say that I'm pretty sure that a huge part of why I am not going to church today is that, while I've found a Pastor I respect, and going to his church completely satisfies my heart - I am still very aware that my special child (now only Kameron), is a little different (well, alot) and doesn't fit into any nice age group of Sunday School children.  With his mental and physical delays, he's better suited for a first or second-graders class than his chronological fourth grade one.

In short, he takes more effort.  And, even in our large church with all it's many many ministries, there doesn't seem to be anyone who wants to take on this little child, even for a few hours on Sunday.  And it breaks my heart - again.

He benefits so much from God's Word and from the music - he memorizes scripture like crazy, and he's the first one to ask if he can pray for you if you have a problem.

But, he is different.  He is in a wheelchair and talks funny and is in diapers. He can have inappropriate behaviors (like throwing the playdough around and laughing like a lunatic).  He isn't an easy child, I know this.

But doesn't he matter to God?  Of course he does.

Shouldn't he matter to a body of believers? Of course he should.

He is the least of these; one of those Jesus spent time with while here.  Kameron matters greatly.

I have to say that I hate writing this.  I feel like I'm being horribly disloyal and expecting too much and that the problem must be mine, not anyone else's.  Like if I really want to go to church with my handicapped son, I should go - full speed ahead and damn the consequences.

But the zeal and fervor that kept me plowing ahead like that for so many, many years is pretty much gone, now.  I am tired.  I am tired of fighting to be included - heck, not even included, just to get in the door (there's no handicapped access to the children's ministry).  I'm tired of cheerfully smiling at the pretty young couples with their beautiful children who all quietly step back a few paces and try not to look like they're checking us out.  I get it all the time out in public, twenty years of it.

It hurts too much to see it in church, too.

And so, another Sunday is spent at home.  And I hurt.  I hurt for Kameron, I hurt for Kobi and for me.

At some level, I hurt for those missing out on getting to know Kameron, too.  He is a very special little boy.  He deserves that love and acceptance.  But, I'm just too tired to fight for it right now.

One of the comments I get a lot when people find out that I'm a single mom to high needs kids is, "I don't know how you do it". It's right up there with people saying how special I am and what a big heart, etc. etc.

Not to denigrate those of you who have actually said these things (I do appreciate compliments!), but believe me, I'm human. I'm NO saint.

I have days, like this very day, where I want to pull my hair out. When Kameron - for the fifty millionth time - bothers the dog (enough that the dog is about to bite the hell out of him), and is cackling with laughter over the increasing growls, and I am not near him (perhaps on the toilet, perhaps in the laundry room), and I am saying (over and over, louder and louder), "Kameron, leave Ricky alone. Kameron, leave Ricky alone. KAMERON, leave Ricky ALONE. KAMERONLEAVERICKYALONE".

And am ignored. Until I come storming out of where ever I was, get all up in his face which scares him more than Ricky's growling and snapping, and he says, "okay, mom."

And then we start it all over again in about five or ten minutes. However long it takes me to get started on some other chore in some other area of the house and for Ricky to leave my side and meander back to Kameron.

Kam thinks it's hilarious.

We do "time out", we do "three strikes", we do IAMABOUTTOKILLYOU, nothing ever, ever, ever works. And if I ignore the resulting clamor, I've found it increases. Kobi will start jumping on furniture, Klaryssia will start telling Kameron to leave Ricky alone (she, the Queen of animal pestering), and will tell Kobi to stop jumping on furniture (while she laughs along). . .

The very persistence and stubbornness that makes these "special" kids survive in spite of all odds, is the very persistence and stubbornness that makes them HUGE pains in my hiney (and by hiney, I'm assuming you know what I really mean).

So, next time you think I'm up for sainthood - think again. I lose my cool regularly.

That's the hardest part of being a single mom. No breaks. In fact, any of you who know of single moms (sorry, dads, can't speak for you, never been a dad), you would be doing her an IMMENSE favor if you would take their kids for a few hours every once and awhile. Throw them in the car with you and your kids for a run to DQ or the dollar menu @ Micky D's. Or just drop over and have coffee with her. Bring her a latte; boss her kids around for her. Help her get some of the stress out.

She will probably kiss your feet.

I know I would.

Love, peeps. Thanks for listening!

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.. .

Kris wasn't into it, Klaryssia's picking a wedgie, and the nurse was hiding behind Kameron . Kobi is critiquing Kameron's costume. Have you looked at yours, son?

In case you haven't noticed, Halloween is just around the corner. I'm not a big Halloweenie person, but for years I've tried to recognize that it matters to my kids. At least to some degree.

Back in Colorado, we lived so far out that it wasn't remotely practical to go around the neighborhood and trick-or-treat - we lived on 12 acres and most of the neighbors did, too. You'd be driving from house to house, and that's no fun. Well, not for the driver,
anyway.

So back there, we'd do the planned event things, like trick-or-treat the mall, or the elementary school, that kind of thing. One year, out in Black Forest near our house, a retreat center had their grounds set up for it. That was fun, because the forest made it spooky, and it was a beautiful place. Unfortunately, in Colorado Springs, it usually snows on Halloween, so it was freaking cold, but hey - they got to dress up and they got some candy, right?

Even Gma got in the spirit...Kobi, however, looks like he wishes he were somewhere else.

Kelsey has a few dental issues, but we love her anyway.

I was showing my claws -- rawwwrr, hisssss!!

We lost a few years of Halloween, but last year we were back
Kameron loves loves loves school buses, and his awesome driver, Miss Judy, came up with this beyond fabulous costume for him:




We only went around our little cul-de-sac, but the kids had a great time -







So, what are we this year? No clue. I was thinking toss a sheet over Kam's chair, call him a ghost and call it good, but that may be a little unimaginative of me. Maybe a Fire Truck driver?? Stay tuned. . .

What I Did on My Summer "Vacation"

Well people, the long summer has ended and the children are scampering back to school. Maybe not scampering, but they are getting on the bus and going. One way or the other.

And now:

LET THE WILD RUMPUS START!!!!!!!

But, really. . . its time to buckle down and get all those waiting projects going, and um, start that ahh . . .

NOPE: What's that time? What is the time? Tick-tick-tock, it's party o'clock!...

What DID we do on our summer vacation? 'Cause, really, that's the question here. People with children don't have summer vacation, per se. They have children. They have activity plans. They have camps and trips to movies, and maybe summer school - if they're lucky. They have lots of mental exercise trying to keep their kiddos occupado, out of trouble, and out of their hair.

We also spend a lot of time on the train to Crazytown.

If you have teens, you probably have even more stress. What is little Susie doing at the mall? Is she really at the mall? Is she texting while driving that car you bought her? Worse. . . is she "sexting"? And what the heck is that, anyway? Do they still have Raves??

It boggles the mind and feeds the worry machine.

For those of us "lucky" enough to stay at home with our little dears, there are other concerns: Will I survive the next three months? Will the children? Do I care if the children survive? It would certainly cut down on the back-to-school expenses. . .

But really, for our little krew, this was a pretty decent summer. We had Miss Kelsey home from college for most of it, and you all know I loved that. It will probably be her last one home. She's planning on getting an apartment with one of her roomies next summer. Thankfully, she will be pretty close by, but still. . .ah, but that's next year. Why borrow stress that's almost a whole twelve months away? I have plenty of worry for today.

Besides, I think I might (key word: might)be adjusting to this having adult children thing. As most of you know, my baby boy got married (see multiple posts on this one), and, although I cried copious amounts, I did not perish. And, I am actually very happy for them both. Really. REALLY.

Kelsey went on a road trip from Washington to California with some of her roommates, and I didn't freak out when she neglected to call me - well, I think she checked in twice - I survived it. 'Course, she got a speeding ticket, and she wouldn't have if she'd listened to my voice echoing in her brain to slow down and drive safely. But, they all made it home intact. And a good time was had by all.

I made a decision (again) to downsize and clean up and get organized. Am I alone in this? We Americans are insane consumers. We pay for places to keep our junk. We treasure it, as if we'll miss out on some essential part of life if we toss those pans we bought at Wal-Mart fifteen years ago. George Carlin did a bit on this phenomenon (disclaimer: it's a little raw, after all, it is George Carlin).

In light of this decision, I asked two of Kris's BFFs and groomsmen to come out and assist. Wes and Dustin had some free time and came out for a few weeks. It was terrific fun and they helped me get some big ticket stuff done - moving furniture out, rearranging rooms and appliances, some minor repairs, AND they mowed the lawn for me - WOOT!!

In exchange, I gave them some tours of Seattle at her finest, a few beers, introduced them to some of our AWESOME food, and they got to run down to Oregon and visit with the Newlyweds for a few days.

Oh, by the way, they are terrific cooks and made many meals for the kids and me - another big WOOT! I could totally get used to having someone cook for me. Foot rubs would be nice, too.

We had Elesha visit several times, a few friends drop by, Kobi had two weeks at Drama Camp (go figure), Kameron got to ride a really cool adapted bike at therapy, we all managed to tolerate Klaryssia's non-stop talk about being a senior this year at high school . . . did too much DQ, baked in the unusually hot Seattle summer, BBQ'd a couple of times, and generally had some good times.

And then, the capstone of summer: the first day of school!

The kids survived, despite their valiant efforts to make me hurt them with their tactics of arguing, fighting, whining, grumping, and general loudness.

And so did I.

Now: LET THE WILD RUMPUS START!!

Oh, one more thing I did on my Summer Vacation: I re-discovered Craigslist. The world's biggest garage sale. Now, I can sell my stuff. And buy more stuff.

Uh oh.

We Currently Have an Opening. . .

I'm afraid my nineteen year-old daughter, Kelsey, has lost it.

We leave in nine days for Colorado to attend my son's WEDDING (I can not believe it), and she's arranging things. In fact, I think she wants to set up the whole trip. She worries about me, you know, is constantly making sure I remember things. Things like buying toilet paper, or locking the doors at night, reminding me not to text when I drive - stuff like that.

I believe she is convinced that I'm getting dangerously close to the old lady side of the hill. And, she's probably right. I do forget a lot of things, but at this stage in my life I kind of feel entitled to. After all, at a certain age, don't we have enough brownie points stored up to coast a bit?

My mom, who is in her eighties, glories in her "crabby old woman" status. I understand that. I think I should be able to embrace my forgetfulness.

At any rate, part of her organizing for the trip is arranging a pet sitter. For her fish.

His name is Schwart. Or, Schwarty, if you prefer. It's apparently pronounced "Shh vart". Unfortunately, his (or her, who really knows with fish?) name rhymes with "fart", to the utter glee of my younger children. We spent a few weeks on this chuckle.

Klaryssia still doesn't get it right. I told her to just call him/her Kelsey's fish.

So, Kelsey loves this little fishy. Her college roomate Lindsey won him/her in a rousing game of Bob for the Fish during the Halloween festivities at school. Apparently Kelsey begged. Lindsey said she had a bad track record with fish (if you know what I mean), and Kelsey promised she would be the official Caregiver to Schwart.

She takes this obligation very very seriously.

So seriously, in fact, that while we are gone, not just anyone will be allowed to take care of him/her. She is interviewing her friends, asking probing questions like: "Have you ever had a fish? If you had a fish, were you, in fact, the primary caregiver? If you were the primary caregiver, has said fish died on your watch?"

One friend, when text-messaged the above queries, responded: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA"

And I quote.

So far, she's asked four friends. One, we see above. One asked if it counted that she goes fishing. Kelsey asked what she uses for bait: feeder fish. No go.

The only likely candidate so far, BFF Al, who cared for a salt-water tank of thirteen fish for FOUR years, has classes beginning soon, so they aren't sure his schedule will be flexible enough to fit Schwarty in.

Darn.

Anyone in the Southish Seattle area willing and qualified? I'm pretty sure Kelsey won't be traveling to the wedding if we can't get this resolved, and she's in it.

You know how it is, a girl and her fish.

How do I Detach from This Outcome?

I've been a little quiet the past several days. I'm not sure how many of you've been following my Andrew stories, but to recap, he is my sweet four-year-old foster son. Well, "sweet" may be pushing it a tad. But, I think he's sweet.

Andrew came into our home November 1st of last year. At the time, I was contracting with the YMCA Family and Mental Health Services agency to provide a temporary home for kids who were in crisis and needed more structure and supervision than they could get in their home or in a "regular" foster home - a place to calm down and stabilize. Some of the kids some were having trouble maintaining at home or in a foster placement, some were just out of the hospital; and some should have been hospitalized.

A few of the children that came in fell through cracks in the system. They were children under six, because six in the Washington State foster program is a magic age. That's when kids can be classified as needing significant behavioral support and get more funding. Not quite certain why behaviors they've been having for all the previous years aren't enough...but hey, it's a Governmental bureaucracy. It has to have a few kinks in it (cough, cough).

Because of this rule, some of the littler kids needing intense supports don't have a place to go. Their "families of origin" can't handle them, and none of the treatment facilities will take them without the higher level of funding. My house became kind of a loophole in the system. Our program could provide the higher level of care and services, but only for ninety days.

So, here comes Andrew. At four years old, he's my youngest yet in the program. He'd been in seven placements already. The previous placements were all family members and he'd been abused and neglected in each of them.

He came into our house one ANGRY little guy. Huge behaviors, spitting, kicking, throwing things, hitting, crying, CUSSING like a serious longshoreman. His tantrums - and I use that term loosely, because they were really rages - lasted up to three hours. For real.

This went on for weeks. Every single day, at least once a day. Sometimes, two or three times. It was a bumpy ride for us all. We went past the ninety days, and I changed the classification of my home so that he would not have to move again.

Eventually, we wore him down. Consistently saying what was okay and what wasn't, sticking to easy, clear rules: "We chew with our mouth closed, Andrew" "We stay at the table until we're done, Andrew" "We don't use words like that, Andrew" "We flush and wash, Andrew" and putting some structure into his life helped him feel safe and he started to relax.

It got so that tucking him into bed (which used to be an ordeal lasting a few hours), turned into one of the highlights of our day. He would get his jammies on and brush his teeth, go to his room to pick out a book, and get under the covers to wait for me. We had a whole routine worked out.

Ditto in the morning. We had a getting ready for the big boy's bus schedule. Having consistent things - even "little" things - to look forward to helped make his day (and mine) smoother and more predictable. He loved these things.

Four weeks ago, a judge who's never met Andrew, decided he was ready to go back to his mother. He hasn't lived with her for the last three of his four years. He is scared. He doesn't know her. And as of last Friday morning, he's living with her.

I can't go into the details of the case; not because I'm worried about confidentiality, but because I don't want to, and I don't feel it really matters at this point.

What matters is that Andrew got under my "professional" foster mom skin. What matters is I love that little boy. What matters is that, when I tried to pack his little plastic forks and spoons that he got for having good table manners, he said, "No, leave them here for when I come back". What matters is how hard he hugged my neck when he left, and how hard I cried after I closed the door.

What matters is that I keep listening for the sound of his rattly, plastic Big Wheel tearing up the sidewalk in front of our house; that I keep waiting for the sound of his voice, asking me a thousand whys: "Kath-a-leen, why does Ricky have eyes? Kath-a-leen, why does Klaryssia get mad so much? Kath-a-leen, why is your car that color...?"

What matters is how empty my lap feels sitting here at this computer because he used to, just last week, just a few days ago, come running out here to my office, flat, bare feet slapping on the hardwoods, to push his way up into my lap, to sit with me while I wrote. Always asking me, "Why"?

I don't know why, Andrew. I have no answers for this one.

I love you, little man. You will always be a part of me, and I hope and pray that somewhere in your little man heart, you will remember me, too.

Field Trip Fun . . . Day Two

Okay, here it is! The promised post on our Field Trip
Fun, Day Dos. This is Kameron's third grade class:


Note that it's much smaller than Kobi's. Also of note, we got Naturalist Rhonda again! Of course, I'm the only one who understood the significance of that fact, since I'm the only one who saw her the day before, but I thought it was cool. No word from Rhonda on how she felt about it.

Ms. Parnell is Kam's teacher. She's the lady in the back wearing pink and looking vigilant. She looks vigilant in most of the pictures I took that day...this is a good thing. Her class is very mobile and active. Vigilance is called for. Believe me.

Rhonda is giving instructions on how to treat the beach. The teachers are wondering if Rhonda knows what she's up against. The kids look like they are paying attention...heck, maybe they are! Note here that Kameron is not in the picture. Kameron was already "acting up" (aka, being a butt-head). He was hanging with me. Not fun, I hope.

Here is Kameron returning to the group.

It took him a minute to warm up.

Finally, he gets on board. . .

and okay, let's look for sea creatures!

After some initial hesitation - she didn't want to get her feet wet - Taylor decides she's into this.

Here she is trying to meet a tube worm. . .

that didn't go so well, on accounta that "don't squish the tube worm rule",

so she and Allison explore the kelp.

Meanwhile, some of the boys are looking high







and low. . .

for signs of life.

Yonny double-checks his guide.











There weren't many creatures to be
found this day. Bummer.

But Kameron didn't care. He got a piggy-back from Kelsey.
As far as Kam's concerned, any Kelsey-time is a good time.

Back down at the shore with the group, Kam wonders why the HECK he CAN'T throw sand,

Ms. Parnell? What's the dealieo with that?

Eventually, I'm sure, the class did find sea life. But by then, Kameron was back on dry land, having exhausted his chances to be "good". Such a relative term, isn't it? Good/Shmud. You say Potato, I say Tomato. Right?

They did appear to be having fun, though.

And for the munchkins in Ms. Parnell's third grade class at Hazel Valley Elementary, any and all field trips are most welcome. These little dudes and dudettes just love being outside with people who care about them. That's the best fun.



Thanks again, Seahurst Park and Naturalist Rhonda.



















And to Ms. Parnell, her asst. teachers, and the kids in Kameron's third grade class, thank you for letting me come on your awesome adventure! See you next year, I hope!