Costco checker's words to live by & how I'm trying: adoption survival story

This is an un-fun post, but it sheds light on what life looks like at the moment, so here we are. I've been stream-of-conscious writing this and it's long. I apologize. Esp because last week's posts weren't short. I'm only gonna post once this week.

Feel free to take your time. Read it in chunks. I appreciate your support more than you know, but I do know that life is busy and IT'S SUMMER. I hate to hit you with a lengthy reading assignment - so totally understand if you skip this one. 

Background:  (if you know, fast forward to 'I know everything') 

Coach and I have 6 bio kids ages 27-17. In 2017, we decided to adopt a sibling pair in need of a forever home after watching the movie The Good Lie. We always have food in the fridge. We could squish a few more people in our home. Why 2? Because we wanted them to always have someone along with them who shared their story, knew where they'd come from. We felt like our kids would fare better if they had a sibling buddy, if - God forbid- they were ever in need of a new home. One placement attempt failed in '21 - those young brothers had severe issues and the state wasn't honest with us. After a few months, we waved the white flag. We renewed our license, unsure if we'd try again. Over a year after we renewed, in April of '23, we got a call about two girls who were 10 (almost 11) and 12. Kay and Rae moved in May of '23. We'd only met them a few times, but their situation living with grandparents was unpleasant and we said - if this was/will be our kids and they were miserable, we would move heaven and earth for them. I had to call three college kids and let them know that two potential sibs were moving in with us. I chatted with Tank, who was overseas studying abroad. He got confused because I referenced another sibling pair we'd also JUST met. 

Tank:  Wait, so we're adopting FOUR KIDS? 

Me:  Um, NO. TWO.

The adoption of Kae and Ray should be finalized in the next few weeks. 

******

Start here if you know everything:  Maybe if I hadn't bonded with Rae (14.5 yo), I'd not have thought anything of the fact that I hadn't bonded with Kay (turned 13 in June, going on 8). But I have bonded with Rae. We wondered what we were dealing with in terms of Kay's struggles, so we had a neuropsych eval done in the spring.

Diagnosis:  Complex PTSD. 

We were worried about RAD. So many ABC's, right? The first two brothers we tried to adopt in '21 most likely had RAD (reactive attachment disorder - they sort of sabotaged the relationship we tried to create, they also had PTSD, ADHD, and ODD - basically ALL the ABC's). RAD kids have difficulty attaching. Kay didn't have this, and we were all:  PHEW.

But - COMPLEX PTSD? Well that sucks. 

Remember in the movie The Blindside, when Sandra Bullock asks her adoptive son, What did you do when all this was going on? And he says, I closed my eyes. We wonder if Kay just sort of became part of the wallpaper- just watched stuff go down, but didn't engage. Both girls were neglected. Did Kay sort of disassociate from her surroundings? Mom on drugs, leaving for long stretches. Not a lot of parental involvement when she was home. Rarely attended school. Brothers locking the sisters in their room for days when the mom was gone. Lack of food. No working utilities. Etc. 

The curious thing is that Rae is only 17 mos older. This seems like a textbook example of kids surviving the same situation, but coming out of it with different issues. We're all different, and we're all impacted differently by situations. It would make more sense to me, if one girl was 3 years old and one was 12, and their brains were in different stages of development. Hmm. Of course, Rae did not come thru the trauma unfazed, but she deals with it, and has made so much progress. She has literally brought us to Hell and back, but she's made huge strides. Life with Kay is  challenging. It's not horrid. She's not threatening us or doing really scary things.

Kay's socially years behind most 13 yo peers. We do not trust her. We trust Rae more, but not entirely. Rae has worked to earn our trust, but she slips up and then we take a backward step and we tell her that we're back a step. I've asked her if she wants to go back, because LORD knows I do NOT want to go back to those Hell-fire days. She physically cringed when I pointed this out, and we can tell she's remorseful and she wants to stay the course. 

Kay watches us, and doesn't engage easily/says things out of left field/acts unauthentic, . There's no flow to her -and she's difficult to be around. It's like living with a stranger or a visitor in your house 24/7 - and I'm not gonna lie. I'm EXHAUSTED BY THIS. 

Kay lurks. It's unnerving. Big time. Per our family therapist, I lay out Kay's day with a list to supply her with structure. At dinner, there's not a lot of conversation from either girl, but it's gotten better. Rae started out watching us - as in they both sat at my island and watched me meal prep, call a doc office and make an appt, holler to someone to change the laundry, and remind someone to pick up a sibling, etc. My friend, who has 5 bio kids and adopted a sibling pair, calls this the 'Mommy show.' It makes sense, they never had a mom to watch do 'mom things.' 

Rae popped into the study the other night to
 let me know that she chose a peach for
 herself. "I put it in that empty basket
 next to the fridge." Bottom line:  She was sort
of hiding it, so no one would take the peach
 she wanted to eat for breakfast.
I was like, Oh, you think no one will
see it over there? She said, that was
 her hope. Before I went to bed, I drew
 this photo. Rae told me later that she
 died laughing. And what'd ya know?
 No one ate your peach even
 though I drew attention to it. 

Rae moved on from that behavior ions ago, and figured out how to laugh with the conversation or ask a question or react in some way. Kay does this a little bit, but when we find her staring we say things like:  This is boring, go do your thing. (or we're supposed to, but it doesn't always work to redirect like that).

I feel her eyes on me during dinner especially when I'm talking/just finished talking and I try turning to her and locking eyes, so she gets the idea. I don't know how to tell her what she should be doing when someone is talking, because it's just a natural thing:  look at person, glance at plate, interject a comment, sip your milk, ask a question . . . you know? How do you teach that? We enrolled her in a social skills class a few weeks ago at the place where she did the neuro eval, but I'm not sure if that one week class will have much of an impact. 

We've noticed that if Coach and Rae are having a conversation, Kay will magically appear and try her best to interrupt them, or stand between them and say something unrelated or attention seeking. When the two girls have friends over (and they are close in age, so they often hang together with a few friends who all enjoy time together), Rae gets frustrated because Kay will do something awkward, like mention an inside family joke that none of these girls understand, or Kay will do something dumb - like slap at Reagan or touch her needlessly to annoy her/get a rise out of her. 

As far as friends go, Kay has a friend, Carol, from her year at public school who is a delightful only-child and who is a little socially behind, but we LOVE her. She is bike riding distance from our house, and we've stayed in touch with her. 

Tina, a girl from our private school, befriended Kay this year. Tina is wonderful. She spent half of the summer visiting an aunt in Canada as her younger brother has an ongoing health issue that required major surgery, so Kay has seen her a limited amount. 

Unfortunately there are only 4 girls total in Kay's tiny private school's rising 8th grade class. Kay. Tina. Josie - who only hangs with the boys. And Marta, who is not often available, and I suspect she prefers Rae over Kay. We've heard that two new girls are joining the class this year, fingers crossed that this will grow Kay's circle. 

Kay struggles with her identity - she tries on attitudes/personas. She turns on the charm, when she meets someone, acting 'fake.' I've discussed with her how to be authentic, but if you don't know who you are - how can you be authentic? My sisters, who are a couple of gems, are prone to customer service voice usage and it drives me bonkers. Why not just use your voice?

Kay loves to be bossy. When Coach took Curly, Kay, and Rae to SC for July 4th, he witnessed Kay try to tell the 9 cousins, who play sports round the clock - rarely pausing to eat, that they were playing kickball wrong. *sigh* 

When Mini took over my bullpen job at a swim meet, Kay came over to her, pursing her lips like an elderly woman, and asked in a condescending, I'm-40-years-old voice, "MINI, ARE YOU GOOD? LIKE YOU DOING OK?" And gave her a thumbs up? Mini swam for her entire childhood and this wasn't her first rodeo, but oh how Kay likes to think she's in charge, has more information than someone. I think Kay's lucky that Mini didn't hold her under the water mid-meet. 

When she and I were at Costco a few months ago, we ran to the car because it looked like rain, and in true grandparent tone, Kay said (with a heavy sigh and a shake of her head and pursed lips):  Huh, Midwest weather!  For a minute I thought a grandma had hopped in the back of my car. 

When she's not watching us or sneaking (she's REALLY sneaky and has struggled to accept our rules - she was raised like a feral cat and is not used to rules or guidelines), she says things out of left field. Rae is quick to point out to her, "That's totally off topic and no one knows what you're talking about." I have to sometimes give Rae feedback that she's not being nice. 

When the girls' adoption is finalized, they can get on our health insurance. Then we can get them 'real' therapy. They get therapy thru DCFS, but we don't feel that therapy has moved the needle in two years. They need specific therapy. Rae needs something involving eye movement and a sound, like a snap (?) to be able to manage triggering thoughts that make her cry or take her back to her old house without warning. Kay will need something specific for Complex PTSD. And I'll need a vacation.

Ha, I couldn't resist sticking my 'need' in there. 

Right now DCFS supplies a driver to take the girls to therapy, so most Fridays the girls leave at 3:30 and return home at 6:30 and Coach and I get a little respite where we can breathe. After the adoption is final, the driving service will not be available, and that's gonna be quite a shift as I assume with new therapy we'll have to take them in two different directions, time slots, etc. 

A few weeks ago, I asked Kay if she ever talks about her former home with her therapist. 

Kay:  No. Not much happened there.

Me:  Really? I'm not sure about that.

Kay:  Well, my mom was gone a lot but I'd just go to a neighbor's house.

Talk about disassociation. We've explained to her that the testing found that she hasn't dealt with things that happened at her home when she lived with her birth mom, and that makes it hard for her to move on and be herself and connect with us. Her DCFS therapist reached out last week to tell me that Kay has begun to talk about those times, so . . . progress? 

I love summer. It's my time off, my vacation. I've always LOVED having the kids home. I no-joke resented school when Lad started. School was breaking up our gang. 

This summer, having Kay around has been trying. A lot of what she does isn't bad. I feel like the struggles is a toss up between her trauma induced difficulties and me not knowing how to deal with a kid who's often home solo - we're unaccustomed to having an only child, esp. if that child doesn't have a lot of friends. I have a list of stuff for her to do in the mornings, water flowers, go outside for an hour, read, do some other academic stuff, a chore, and then the afternoon is open for friends or the pool, etc. 

I just admitted to our amazing family therapist (not DCFS therapist, but someone through our health insurance - I'm the insured and we take the girls, or go ourselves to get support, tips, feedback, etc) that sometimes I feel like no matter what Kay does- I'm gonna find fault with it - this is NOT a good thing, and I'm not proud of it. But admitting it is a step in the right direction. Summer in particular is tough. 

Last Monday, I signed her up at the last minute for another week of summer school. The last session she did at our local junior college was the week my dad had surgery. Between his prep and my travels to Louisville, I wasn't home half of the week. I felt like I didn't get a chance to enjoy being at home without Kay. The session wasn't cheap, but I gifted myself this do-over so she'd have something to do from 9-3 for another week. Kay prefers to have something to do - one of her classes was an improv class, so not academic. 

Early in the summer, I chatted with my Costco checker. She's lovely. I commented on her new hair style and how much it suited her. She asked how my summer was going. *waving my arm to the $600 of food on the belt* I told her that the college kids were home, and I love it, but they're hungry. Then I told her that the adoption of the two youngest would be final soon. She asked a few questions and I gave her the Cliff Notes version. 

Costco checker:  You're their angel. You know that? 

It was a sweet thing to say, and I teared up. I feel guilty accepting that high praise though, because half (OK, more than half) the time I'm exhausted and at the end of my rope and Kay is getting on my last nerve. Like I WANT TO GET THINGS DONE IN MY HOUSE WITHOUT BEING WATCHED, OR HAVING SOMEONE LURK. 

Anyway, I thanked her, and it dawned on me - big picture:  I get that this is all heading in the right direction, and that we've made so much progress. I know the girls will have a good life and I hope and pray that they move past the trauma and thrive. BUT - the day-to-day is a slog. It wears on me. It's never-ending and sometimes it feels impossible and I just want to escape.

Since my Costco trip, I've made a point during challenging moments to say to myself:  BE THEIR ANGEL. Because sometimes, I need a little voice to encourage me to get through whatever the heck this day might bring. I need to find the patience. I need to force myself to find a way to connect with a kid who needs connection, but who is so off-putting. I've also clung to the bible verse:  Do unto others as you would have them do to you. Matthew 7:12. I try to put myself in the shoes of a kid who just doesn't get stuff. 

I'm afraid that I sound terrible and it really isn't THAT bad, and she's gotten better and it'll be fine - eventually. It would help so much if I could create a bond with her and my hope is that better therapy will help her address her trauma and then maybe her relationship building skills will grow. I can tell when Rae gets in trouble or irks me, I'm softer - I get over things faster, because we have a bond. 

I'm trying. I do get that this situation is not their fault. Kay's issues are not her doing. We're taking baby steps towards better connection, hopefully. I read to her at  night when I can/when it makes sense. We play a ton of family games. She continues to consistently break our trust. In family therapy we talk about how it's not really possible to attach to someone who you can't build trust with.

 

*******

Thanks for reading. Have you picked up any wise words/ seen things from a different angle from an unexpected source, like a Costco checker?

Family portrait, the underbelly: the issue & my rant

If you haven't read yesterday's post, I think this will make more sense if you read it first. Sorry for assigning homework in the summer, and for lumping in an extra post this week. 

The issue:  Coach has a tendency to police me/the bio kids - but mostly me, or wince and make faces out of view of the girls if he thinks I said something wrong or maybe was too quick to correct. During the pre-portrait meal (like 90 min ahead of the 6:30 pm Sunday photo shoot) when ALL THE KIDS WERE HOME, there were lots of conversations going on. 

(background logistics:  the 5 men golfed during the day. The two little girls had been at a 'don't do drugs' two-night camp for kids whose parents were drug addicts and I drove an hour into the city while the men were golfing to meet the girls' bus). 

Coach, having finished eating, was standing near the fridge - on the other side of the island. The island is massive, so he wasn't near the table. He asked Rae about camp. She swiveled in her chair to talk to him. At the same time, I was facing the other direction, still seated at the table, and I asked Tank if he figured out a coworker's name or if he was still calling him the wrong name.  A moment later, Rae turned back to face the table and I caught the Frustrated-Coach/head-rolling posture behind Rae. 

Huh? 

Curly shot me a 'What's-up-with-him' look. 

Now it was time for wardrobe and the navy shirt I thought Lad would wear resembled Big Guy in a Little Guy's coat shirt scene from Tommy Boy. I was distracted and upset, but kept trying to shuffle shirts and shorts between Tank, Lad, and Reg. Ed had 'shopped' from available options when he was home over July 4th, so I knew he was all set. 

When I went upstairs to get dressed, Coach informed me that my

Is it me, or does
Coach look a little
 like a twisted version of
Bill Hader from the
 movie Trainwreck
and former SNL star?

conversation overpowered his attempt to loop Rae into a discussion that he hoped might involve the whole family, (What? People were scattering) and he didn't like that the gang didn't join in his convo starter  . . .  and he later admitted that he didn't realize that I'd already chatted with them EXTENSIVELY about camp - but I was in the car with them for 45 minutes, as part of my 2 hour round trip car ride the afternoon of the portrait - so what did he think I was doing while he was golfing? Ignoring them? 

As an aside, Rae asked me on our drive home, what I did for the weekend, and wasn't that nice? She's made great strides. Meanwhile, Kay doesn't get how to do a give and take conversation. (more on her situation next week). 

The car ride into the city was after I'd seared over 6 lbs of chicken, and chopped potatoes, and loaded two crockpots for dinner, completed my back exercises and my workout, spritzed at least 6 golf shirts and 4 pairs of shorts with water and threw them in the dryer with the tags on BECAUSE they were wrinkled in shopping bags and I still didn't know who was wearing what, searched HIGH AND LOW for 15 min in a panic when one shirt I'd planned to have one guy wear was missing - (I finally called the golfers and Lad admitted that he'd brought it home after he tried it on, because he thought I was sure he was gonna wear it, and he was going home after golf to get it - PHEW), and THEN - I laid out 12 pairs of shoes for the picking . . . 

and FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING, WE CANNOT CONTROL ALL OF THIS AND IF THEY DON'T SPEAK UP BECAUSE THEY JUST GOT HOME FROM CAMP AND THEY'RE TIRED, OR BECAUSE THEY SAY LESS WHEN ALL THE KIDS ARE HOME, THEN SO WHAT - IF IT AIN'T BROKE - then what are we fixing!!! 

AND, AND I WAS NOT TRYING TO OVERPOWER ANYTHING - LIKE GIVE ME A BREAK HERE AND STOP MAKING LIVING WITH THE TWO YOUNGER GIRLS SUCH A PRODUCTION . . .

because I really REALLY can't do that anymore. It's too hard. Feelings will be hurt. Someone will say something insensitive or dumb, because things happen - and it'll be fine. We're here - heading into the home stretch. Look how far we've come. We have to relax a little. 

Families aren't perfect and neither is ours, but Coach has us walking on eggshells. The girls have lived here for 2 years and we can't keep acting as if our home is a stage and he's the stage manager (OK, so I did just reference 'wardrobe' above as if we were on a stage, so there's that). His head-roll, shoulder-slumping, furrowed-brow theatrical disappointment conducted behind the girls' backs, directed at ME!!!, if things aren't peachy - well, c'mon. Just  . . .

STOP. 

I really do like
this dress, and it
 usually looks
really good
on me - not the
best angle here. 

*The night before this Coach mentioned that he really liked the dress I wore to mass, and could that be a contender for the portrait. Wait, what? I brushed it off, but now - with tempers flaring and emotions ramping up, I wasn't sure . . . did I choose the right dress? There wasn't time to reconsider and I wasn't in the mood for chatting, and I wasn't even sure if the outfits were gonna look fine, or if the damp clothes in the dryer with the tags on would be wrinkle free in time - and is that a stain on Reg's ND shirt that Tank dragged home from the city as a back up? And oh how I wish Ed hadn't left Coach's brand new, white golf shirt with the unnoticeable golf course crest on it at the hotel during Tank's graduation. "Boys - the shoes are lined up on the living room coffee table - pick a pair." 

The portrait was fine, but I didn't realize that Coach wore black shoes till we were there. I was too mad to look at him, I guess. I'd planned on him wearing navy shorts, but he'd decided midweek to wear light tan pants. Fine, whatever - but black shoes? 

Afterwards, I laid awake worrying that I'd forgotten to stand up straight. Do my shoulders look rounded in these pictures? The photographer hadn't given any:  angle this way, or chin down, or lean in, etc. instructions and THIS HAS BEEN PLANNED FOR SO LONG, AND WAS IT FINE? AND HOW SOON COULD WE GET AN APPOINTMENT WITH OUR AMAZING FAMILY THERAPIST BECAUSE I'M UNABLE TO MANAGE LIFE ON A STAGE IN 

MY OWN FLIPPING HOME. 

*******

Do you have a loved one who censors you or signals you if you're not saying things  'just right'? Did I choose the right dress? The 4 girls all had short dresses on, but I felt like this longer dress was fancy and If I'm gonna be accused of overpowering a conversation, why not play the part of fancy?

Family portrait aka: stress fest

Last fall we attended a fundraiser organized by our friends, whose daughter died of a DIPG brain tumor in 2022 at the age of 3. It's called the Violet Foundation. (if interested in learning more about it, or donating to this worthy cause that is close to our hearts, please click the link).

I dropped most of my silent auction tickets in the bucket for a family portrait session, and we won! We had not had a family portrait since Mini was 12. Um, she's 21. We do have several very nice family photos taken with great regularity, but we'd not done something professional in ions. 

To say it took an act of God to get all of our people in one place in outfits that 'worked'* is an understatement. My home currently resembles a mall. Rarely do I have people (and by people, you know that I'm looking at the men in the bunch right? That was implied) willing to go shopping. The three oldest, all male, have moved out of the house, so there's that. Because I'm me, I played a fun game of bringing the mall to the people. 

I do not recommend. 

The thought of dragging all of the items, that didn't make the cut, back to various stores is daunting and I want the non-shopping contingent to handle the returns. 

Four of the five dresses worn by the girls/me were all thrifted. (I will leave the thrifting adventure story for another post, and yes - this might require a reminder). Rae wore the dress I bought her on sale for her 8th grade graduation. 

We went with a blue theme - and white. Shades of blue. The girls all knew what they were wearing and a few of the fellas knew, but the others were going to be a game time decision. The night BEFORE, yes I'm shouting, I asked Reg (not for the first time) if he had a pair of boat shoes. 

Reg:  Yep.

Me:  OK, can you pull them out of the mudroom, so I can see them?

Later when I got home from wherever I was, Reg:  Um, I guess I only have one. Um, one shoe.

How does this happen? He's not five. I texted the older boys, who don't reside here. Anyone have extra Sperry's or something? Ed texted a photo of 'dressy' flip flops (is that a thing) that he planned to wear. I had lost energy and barely cared, plus his GF is a fashionista, so I believed she'd given his shoe choice the nod. Fine. 

Guess who has bright white feet in the photo? Thank you, golfing tan line. 

There will be more funny filters tomorrow,
 get excited. Tank managed to create these
 with filters while the photo shoot was
 going on. Not gonna lie - even though I
 didn't look like this - I sort of felt
 like this by the time it was over.

I ended up going to Nordstrom Rack Sat. night and buying a stupid number of shoes. Mini had lost interest in project 'white sandals' - so she needed a pair and I was getting grief about contemplating wearing my navy wedge sandals with my white/blue print sundress, so I brought home a few pairs for whoever.

There were a few day-of hurdles that I didn't anticipate. The main one relates to a behavior Coach has adopted that I find exhausting. He's a great guy and he's trying - don't get me wrong, but his need to have all go 'as-planned' for the sake of Kay and Rae . . . well, it's killing me. 

*****

Can we pause here for a moment, and recognize that I've thought about this photo, focused on it, pondered whether or not we'd make it to this point, a finish line in a way, for a long time? You know, we tried to adopt before, and that didn't end well - and there've been days/stretches when I was unsure this was gonna happen. So this felt like a big deal. 

Plus, I'm busy and had I considered all the outfits enough? Would the guy outfits incorporate enough navy? Was I dumb to not check on shoes earlier? 

This is me and my boys, minus our heads.

*****

I'll explain the 'issue' in a post tomorrow. Sorry for the extra post, but I hated to hit you with a long-winded story. I've also drafted a whole summary of the adoption, Kay's test results, etc. and that's not exactly a light, whimsical, brief piece - coming next week. 

Anyone take a family photo and manage NOT to want to strangle the people in said photo? Do your people lose shoes? 

Today's theme: things that pain me

Dad update:  he's going well. Still has some pain, but off the painkillers. He cancelled the night nurses, feeling like he can manage on his own. When I brought dinner over the weekend, I re-enacted a fairly entertaining (after the fact) incident of Kay digging herself into some pretty deep trouble, and he complained that I was making him laugh too much - his stitches hurt.  

I'm feeling like I'm in a try-to-catch-up blog place right now - as in, so much going on and only so much time to write about it. When I get myself organized, I'll share the Kay situation. Um, more Italy? Um, the Mini chronicles?

****

My achy breaky back - My back has hurt on and off all of my adult life. Nothing shocking - low back stuff. Usually I do press-ups and it goes back to normal. 

Unrelated:  Reg went to
the store and couldn't
find sandwich baggies,
so he bought these.

Early on in the summer, I had a pain in my back that felt like I'd fallen down the stairs. Or, as my friend, Suz, would say - it felt like someone hit me with a shank on my back. You know, when you hit your backbone on the staircase and you bruise your spine? That kind of pain, only I didn't fall down the stairs. Thank goodness. And no one hit me with a shank. Thank goodness. 

I happened to see my GP for a physical in mid June and she ordered a bone density test (not b/c of my back, but because it was time), a mammogram, and an x-ray of my back. The x-ray showed nothing, which we figured - but I'd have to have an x-ray before they would consider an MRI. She checked back in with me several weeks later and I told her it was still feeling bruised. Meanwhile, you know that I'm married to a PT, right? 

Mini put her sandwich
in two baggies.

In addition to the bruised spine feeling, I had low back stuff happening. I couldn't do my go-to fix:  press-ups. It aggravated my bruised spine feeling. Coach first insisted I just do them anyway, even though the doc said not to do anything that brought on the pain in my spine. Coach said that doctors don't know anything. I get that PTs know more about how to address this stuff, but I still thought it didn't make sense to irritate it. 

I didn't do press-ups, but I tried watching movies while on the floor, propped up on my elbows. Mini and I watched Dirty Dancing over 4th of July weekend - she'd never seen it. By the time the movie was done, I could not get up off the floor. I eventually got on all fours and crawled to the couch to use the couch to hoist myself up. What on earth? Coach was out of town for July 4th and when he came back, I told him how the elbow thing was going. He told me to keep at it. 

We got sandwich baggies, and someone (who
I have yet to identify, but I have I suspect
 this was the work of the
person versed in all things PT)
 took the snack size baggies, ditched the
 box and shoved them in the drawer NEXT
 to the box of sandwich baggies. This is
unrelated, unless you consider that the
theme for today is:  THINGS THAT PAIN ME. 

Also, I sleep on my belly. I start on one side, switch to my belly, and then I might switch to my other side. Right now, if I sleep on my belly (which I can do, but I'm in a lot of pain when I roll onto my front and it takes awhile for the pain to ease enough for me to go to sleep), then in the morning I can barely get out of bed. What the what? Once I was up on my feet, my back pain would improve throughout the day - the longer I was up and moving, the better it would feel. My neck is wonky right now, probably because I'm sleeping weird. *SIGH*

Coach was supposed to look at my back a few times, but it never happened. Finally last week, I went to his office. The doc had now ordered an MRI and even with my insurance it was gonna cost over $2K. Coach said an MRI isn't indicated. Really - WELL, WHY DON'T YOU LOOK AT ME AND THEN TELL ME WHAT IS INDICATED. 

Have you heard of the shoemakers' children? Well, I'm here to tell you - it's a legit thing. 

After he examined me, he gave me exercises to do, and none of them included press-ups, so I guess he realized that wasn't a good idea after all. I finally asked him a few days later, if he thought I might have a stress fracture in my back. This has been my fear. He said I might, which I translate to mean:  probably. 

If I have a stress fracture, then the protocol is to stop running for 6 weeks. 

I rode the stationary bike the other day, and it didn't bother my back - so I guess I can ride the bike in order to get cardio. I can also walk, but who wants to spend time walking when it's so much faster to run?  Plus, I now have to lay on the floor and do back exercises and that's time consuming, and for me - it's easy to get to the end of the day and realize that I haven't done them yet. 

I'm grumpy. This has been hurting for at least two months. I don't run during the winter months, so it kills me to miss such a big chunk of my running season. Meanwhile, chunky toddlers are due back at my house . . . I don't know, probably mid-August, but I might put that off until after we take Reg to college, so the 18th? I'm gonna have to like, pick them up and stuff. I pick up heavy weights when I workout, but sometimes those little people aren't stationary and I don't have the mindset to get in a good position, you know? 

*****

What is paining you today? Does anyone else sleep sunny-side down? 

The Girls: the grandparents & where to go from here

(this is the 2nd half of the grandparent saga that I posted Monday - if you haven't read that  . . . we'll wait). 

After a rescheduled zoom with the grandparents in Feb of '24 we explained our position, saying how their actions (specifically having the girls' mom's identical twin show up to 'surprise' the girls) were not in the girls’ best interest. We agreed to meet in person, so they could see the girls - but we would stick around. We went bowling. The grandma talked to the girls nonstop about her kids and her grandkids. 

The grandparents met us out at a pizza place in July of '24 after the terrible awful happened (girls got a hold of an old Chromebook. Rae used the internet in the worst way possible, and Kay hopped on FB and handed out our address to a crappy, distant relative). The grandparents reiterated to Rae and Kay the importance of following our rules and listening to us, because we were giving them a life.  Meanwhile, Kay's FB msg led to someone supplying our address to the jailed mom. Kay was sneaking letters from the jailed mom to their room. 

Yeah, their mom knows where we live, and yet I still manage to sleep at night. 

The grandma insisted that the mom doesn't want the girls, never did. Only cares about drugs. I spend a few days peeking outside, expecting to see some beat up car pull up. That fear has faded, plus the court ruled no contact. The mom isn't allowed to reach out. 

The girls had an overnight weekend again in September, while we attended Tank’s parents’ weekend. We said no family visitors, but grandma had her kids and grandkids over. How is this Not Family? I guess she thinks that since her bio kids aren’t on drugs (it's the grandpa's kids that are so messed up) they don’t count. The point is - focus on them and don’t confuse them with family members they won’t have contact with anymore. 

I’ve decided the (step) grandma literally cannot be alone with the girls. She has no interest in them. Prior to the weekend, we said, “No junk food, please.” The girls said they ate every meal at fast food. The girls didn’t know about our request, so they didn't think anything of telling us how great it was to eat crap again. In the grand scheme, this isn’t the end of the world, but shit - you said you’d do things our way . . . and then?

The grandma took them overnight a few days after Thanksgiving. They shopped at Walmart where she bought them pajamas (too heavy to actually sleep in) that look like an animal costume with the head on the hood. Not exactly practical, and again - not a deal breaker, but wouldn't it be nice if they asked what the girls needed and got them something on that list?  These PJs are geared towards much younger kids, but whatever. Back when we went bowling the grandpa told Coach that he’d help us out anyway we needed. If the girls ever needed anything, just let him know.

We felt this was great news, because the girls need things. What they didn’t need were silly heavy fleece costume-like pjs. Maybe this was the year that all their grandkids got ridiculous pjs that take up an entire drawer as they double as an animal costume? 

In the fall we’d asked if they might pitch in a bit (even a tiny bit) to help with the girls’ tuition. The grandparents declined- saying they try to keep it even between all the grandkids. Really? Were your other grandkids neglected? Left to fend for themselves while you dropped stuff off outside their house, afraid of what reality you might face if you went inside? Do your other grandkids have serious trauma scars that run deep?

The switch to the tiny private school was a game changer. Great friends. No screens. No bad influence kids, who Rae in particular was drawn to at our public junior high. We saw that school switch as the only option for us to keep the girls (we did seriously consider sending them back after the July '24 Shit Show), but when we started down this path we hadn't factored in the cost of private school. *sigh* I'll share our high school situation for Rae in someday . . . soon? 

Then Rae’s January bday happened, and crickets from the grandparents. They know where we live, but didn't even mail a card or call. * Not expecting gifts, but why claim you want to stay in touch and then blow off her birthday?

* Long story but early on I’d hope to keep our address a secret from them, but we are listed and they found out our last name and looked us up. They told the girls they’d driven past our house before they moved in with us, but NOT to tell us that. Even if Coach is right:  they were being cautious/showing concern for them, etc. - they told the girls to lie to us. 

They texted in March when we were leaving for Italy/or in Italy? to ask if they could see the girls and I told them we were traveling. 

Kay’s bday was in June. They missed that one too. We wondered if they’d fade into the abyss, and we are fine with that. Neither girl has asked about them since, I don’t even know when. 

Last week, the grandma texted me. Hoping for an overnight. Our social worker has said that she understands if we don’t keep in touch with them. She dealt with them when the girls lived there. I think Coach and I will agree to do a supervised visit again. Coach thinks we invite them to our home for a Sunday night dinner. When I scowled, he said, "Eat on the deck?" We’re not interested in another overnight, which says a lot because we LOVE a break. The gparents are too out of the loop. We don’t trust them. They don’t seem overly invested, esp since they missed the girls birthdays.  

Part of me wonders if I ask the girls individually if they’d like to see their grandparents, if Rae might say NO, and Kay night say SURE. Things don’t click the same way for Kay though. She’d be happy  to visit with anyone for a change of scenery and a chance to score attention. 

Unrelated, but a pic of our family day yesterday.
We took them to the city for a beach day, etc.
This is four youngest watching Ed's
beach volleyball team with Tank as a sub. 

I've got a whole post I plan to draft about Kay's neuropsych results and what we're dealing with there.

Thoughts? Invite the grandparents for dinner? Meet them somewhere? Ask the girls if they want to see them? Tell the grandparents in advance that the girls are in need of xyz (school uniform socks, books, school supplies, lunch boxes, Kohl's giftcards for shoes), if they'd please consider that if/when buying them things?  Or do what the family therapist suggested today, say with the adoption about to be finalized, we're focusing on that right now - but maybe in a few months. 

The Girls: the grandparents (and I use the term loosely)

Our soon-to-be adopted girls have a set of grandparents who live about an hour west of us. When their mom went to jail, the grandparents drove out of state to get the four kids. (yep, the girls have two older biological brothers). 

I'm referring to their maternal grandfather and his 2nd wife, who I believe he has been married to for a long time - meaning she's been around since before the girls were born. Their maternal grandmother died of a drug overdose years ago. This we discovered when given about 500 pages for each girl to review before signing the adoption papers. (no, we do not yet have a court date, which is becoming increasingly irritating, because we hope/hoped to go to court in the summer before big kids go back to college, etc). 

The grandparents were punitive with the girls when they lived with them from October '22 till May '23 when we entered the picture. The grandma couldn't manage the next older brother's behavior so she alerted DCFS and he went into a specialized pre-adoptive foster home. The oldest brother turned 18 and hollered, PEACE OUT, YA'LL ARE NUTS and returned to his home state. When the grandparents found out the mom wasn't gonna get the kids back, they waved the white flag and said We can't do this. 

I don't fault them for that. That wasn't what they signed on for. The girls couldn't wait to get out of their house. We scooped them up the minute their school year was done. 

The girls were supposed to have visits with the brother. The social worker organized a few early on, but he apparently lost ground after seeing his little sisters (he's about 2 yrs older than Rae). He was hospitalized and due to his many issues it was decided to stop the sib visits. The girls asked about him early on, but don't anymore. The social worker explained that the courts want to keep sibs in contact, but if it isn't in their best interest then it isn't in their best interest. 

The grandma admitted to me, in a 'we just didn't have any idea what was going on' way, that they didn't ever set foot inside the daughter’s (her step daughter’s) house. When they visited, they left things on the front porch. Why? They knew shit was not good in that house and they played dumb. That's not acceptable IMO. Their grandchildren were suffering serious neglect. 

The grandma is a piece of work. She's very involved/invested in her biological kids/grandkids' lives. The social worker described what it was like when she made visits to the gpa house while the girls were living there. 

It was strange. The grandparents would sit and play cards at the kitchen table, but they made the girls stay in their room. According to the girls, they'd get bread and water as a meal if they got in trouble. When they failed to turn the light off in their room, the grandparents removed all their lightbulbs. (When they moved in, we noticed right away - they never turned off a light in a room when they walked out of it - it was bazaar. We started just calling them back until they got the hang of it). 

When they moved in with us, the grandparents told the girls that they'd stay in touch.

Mid-August ‘23 a few months after the girls moved in, the grandparents reached out and asked if the girls could come visit them for a weekend. We were like, Oh, well this will be a huge help. 

I was moving Tank back to school for his junior year. Coach had been invited to play at a fancy-pants golf course and this meant he could play a round of golf vs hanging at home with girls. We were like, “Hey, look at us - fostering girls with nearby grandparents.” 

After hearing the stories though, I was a little surprised that the girls would want to visit them, but they did. 

When the grandparents drove the girls back home after the weekend, the grandparents chatted with us on our driveway for a few minutes. 

"Well, it was REAL emotional." (I stared at them blankly) "Their mom's identical twin sister was in town. We didn't tell her that we had the girls and we didn't tell the girls that they were gonna see their aunt (who looks JUST like their mom), so when she walked in there were lots of tears." 

They said this as if it was cute, not triggering, not emotional sabotage. What on earth?

That night, the girls acted off, as if they had a foot in two worlds and they weren’t sure how to proceed. We invited them to play volleyball in the yard and they declined - opting to stand on the deck, side by side, stiff and uncertain. I was like, WE JUST TOOK A BACKWARD SLIDE. I called the social worker the next day and she didn't believe me. "She's out of state. She wouldn't have seen them." I assured her the aunt came in town. The social worker was upset and said that was totally inappropriate. 

This was July 2nd - the night before they flew
 to SC with Coach to visit his bother. Look
how comfortable I am reading to them,
despite piles of laundry/baskets everywhere.
Calmness in chaos - a gift, right?

Then in November the Grandma texted, "Can we have the girls this weekend?"

Me:  no 

Her:  Such a quick response? 

Me:  Reach out to the social worker if you need to. 

Turns out their oldest brother, who the girls claim would go off and buy himself food when their mom was MIA on a drug binge and not give them any, was in town. I guess the grandparents like to be heroes who reunite folks, whether or not it makes sense to do so. The girls have zero interest in seeing this brother again. He once locked them in their bedroom for days while their mom was gone. We’ve learned that the utilities were turned off at the house, and they were living in a home that should not have been inhabited. The girls ended up climbing out a window and down the side of the house in order to go to a neighbor’s house. 

Months later, the social worker asked us to have a meeting with the grandparents to discuss boundaries and issues and lay the groundwork for their possible involvement with the girls. They agreed to meet via zoom while they were vacationing in Florida. Then they forgot about the zoom. Priorities much?

*****

This is a long ass story, so I’ll post the rest of it tomorrow. Bottom line:  nothing is  simple. What’s feeling complicated in your life right now?  Oh, and Mini week will be forthcoming. I wanted to post this, because it's weighing on me. Also weighing on me - I need to switch to aluminum free deodorant - recommendations?

Tank week (extended): Airport shuttle (con't) - the Adventure

(this is a post continued from yesterday - if you've not read my last post, I suggest you do that now. We'll wait. Um, this is long - but I'm leaving it alone. If you don't have time, maybe finish reading it tomorrow?)

Tank was flying BACK to Minnesota. Another friend, another lake house. Living the dream.

I'd told him that we'd leave at 6:40 am for his 8:50 am flight. I was worried about rush hour. As I don't generally need to drive places during that hectic hour, I was uncertain how it might impact our airport drop off. Better to be safe, than sorry. 

My eyeballs decided to protest my use of contact lenses that week. Why? It's an unsolved mystery, but nonetheless, I was wearing workout clothes and glasses. I checked the GPS to Midway. I think it said 30 min. In no traffic, I can do it in 25, so not bad. 

Reg had agreed to drop Kay at the pool and Mini at the train. I told Kay, UNLESS THERE'S SOME SORT OF HORRIBLE TRAFFIC ON MY WAY HOME, I SHOULD BE THERE AFTER SWIM PRACTICE. Ray was caddying with Reg. And maybe Curly? Who can remember. 

6:42 am:  Tank and I hopped in the minivan. 

6:52 am:  We were on the Stevenson Expressway, heading to Midway Airport. We were chatting. I happened to look down. When I wear my stupid glasses, I can't see close, so I lifted my glasses to verify. OH SHIT. 

Me:  TANK, WE'RE ON EMPTY!

I made him hit whatever button in the Odyssey reveals how many miles we would have until we ran out of gas. He hit the button. 

FOUR. MILES. 

Me:  TANK, WE'RE NOT GONNA MAKE IT. WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF GAS IN FOUR MILES. (insert deep hissing sounds coming from your's truly. I was high pitch squealing, nearing panic mode). There were no upcoming exits with gas stations.

I hollered for him to ask GPS for the closest gas station. I thought we should go north on LaGrange Road. He told me to go south on LaGrange. (this is like industrial  type places, maybe the expressway goes over a railroad yard or something non-pedestrian like). Mistake. There was nothing. 

Tank:  It says 12 minutes. 

Me (whimpering):  WE'RE NOT MAKING IT 12 MINUTES.

At Archer, he told me to exit. This was now officially the wrong direction. Then he told me GPS wanted me to do a u-turn, but there was nothing worth turning around to. We'd already been down there. I started to cry. 

Tank: THERE'S GOTTA BE SOMETHING DOWN HERE. JUST STAY THIS WAY. THERE'S LIKE HOUSES AND SHIT- GOTTA BE A GAS STATION.

Then he spotted it:  LOOK! THERE'S ONE RIGHT THERE. OK? OK! WE'RE FINE.

7:02 am (That's when I took the dashboard photo):  We rolled into the gas station. He got out to pump and I took a photo of the

4!!!!

dashboard and sent it in our fam chat:  WHO USED THE MINIVAN YESTERDAY AND DIDN'T FILL IT UP. TANK AND I ALMOST RAN OUT OF GAS . . . 

We followed the GPS directions to Midway, because I'd never gone to Midway from Archer Avenue and like 79th Street? A moment later, it dawned on me.

Me:  OH. SHIT. IT WAS ME. I DROVE THE MINIVAN YESTERDAY! WHAT? HOW DID I NOT NOTICE? 

Upon review of the day before, I remembered rushing to the hair appt. and to Dad's appointment. Then Tank admitted that he drove it to get Mini from the train and he noticed the low fuel, but knew Mini wanted to get home after a long day in the city. I don't drive the same car everyday. I'd just filled up a car, but that was Tex. Curly drove the minivan home from the swim meet. She didn't notice the low fuel light, but she drove it less than 2 miles.  I didn't notice the low fuel light the day before - could've been because I was in such a hurry. Oops. 

With a full tank - order was restored and GPS says we're gonna get to Midway at 7:35ish I say to Tank:  Hey, Dad is flying to North Carolina for the 4th, that's where you're going too, right? I'm wondering if you're on the same flight. He's flying Frontier. 

Tank:  That's nuts. I'm flying Frontier too. 

Then we chatted a minute about when he was returning from Minnesota, which kid this was he was visiting and who else was going (I can't keep it all straight). As we approached Midway, Tank asks me:  Where's the United terminal?

Me (I'm blanking on the fact that he just told me he was flying Frontier the following weekend):  What? I don't know. Doesn't matter. Don't talk about next weekend. Let's just get through this one. 

Tank:  This is for this weekend. Where's United?

Me:  United flies out of O'Hare.

Tank: We're at O'Hare. 

Me:  No, we're at Midway.

Tank:  (here's where Tank says words that I never imagined could cause me so much stress) MOM - MY FLIGHT'S OUT OF O'HARE!!!!!

Me:  WHAT? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT?! YOU JUST WATCHED ME DRIVE TO MIDWAY . . . TANK, YOU'RE GONNA MISS YOUR FLIGHT.

*let's pause here to recognize that kids growing up with GPS at the ready are sometimes at a disadvantage. I knew which direction Midway was when I was like 11 years old. I knew O'Hare was north from our house on 294. And Midway was on the south side - not far from my Irish dancing classes. 

7:35 am:  Anyway - We were in front of Midway - instead of exiting to the ramp to drop off passengers, I stayed the course. The woman right next to me watched me LOSE my mind. She couldn't hear the shouting and hollering and pure panic on the inside of our car, but apparently our arms-flailing, mouths-flapping, head-bopping was mucho entertaining, because her eyes were popping out of her head and she was giggling. 

I floored it. Sped up to the light. Saw the green arrow, inviting me to turn left onto 63rd. Not gonna lie, I felt a little like Matt Damon in the Borne Identity when he hops in the driver's seat and asks the girl who owns the car, "Do you take care of this car? How old are the tires?" or something. 

I fix my eyes on the road and tell Tank:  Put O'Hare in the GPS. I think it'll have me turn . . . 

The GPS told me in a calm voice that only frustrated me further:  'Take a left on 63rd.' Where was GPS's anxiety? 

I sped along, weaving through traffic, fortunately making most of the lights. When I was on Archer, I needed to get in the left lane so I could get back on I-55 (the Stevenson). The cars waiting to do this same thing formed a somewhat-stationary, never-ending line. A traffic light separating us from getting anywhere near the ramp to I-55 kept turning red before we could progress. Damn. Finally, I pulled an A-hole move and I got in the right lane, made it through the impossible traffic light and now was positioned next to all of the cars that were waiting patiently. No one wants to let in the A-hole person who is trying to sneak in when it isn't their turn. 

7:45 am:  I spotted one car with the windows down. It was 85 degrees out.. 

I pull alongside Mr. I-Don't-Do-AC, roll my window down, and I 'splain as best I can in a not-so-calm voice, distraught showing on my face:  I THOUGHT HE FLEW OUT OF MIDWAY AND HE FLIES OUT OF O'HARE, HE MIGHT MISS HIS FLIGHT . . . 

No-AC guy is about 28. He saves the day with a wave to get in front of him. 

I speed thru traffic on I-55, looking for space to pass other cars and weaving. When I saw an open stretch, I floored it. 

Me:  CALL DAD, TELL HIM TO TEXT ALLISON (kid is on swim team with Kay) HAVE HER GET WORD TO KAY THAT I'M GONNA BE LATE. SHE CAN WATCH THE NEXT PRACTICE. 

I also had him send messages to Kay's coaches thru the team snap app, so someone would let her know I'd be late. 

At the oasis exit thing, I faked like I was getting off to get gas, but we all know I ALREADY GOT GAS, and the funny thing is - I THOUGHT THAT WAS STRESSFUL. Bah ha ha. I drove up to the oasis and then blew right on thru to the other side to join the expressway, thereby making better progress because it is RUSH HOUR and most of 294 is a parking lot.

7:55 am:  GPS has 8:16 am as our arrival to O'Hare. Flight is at 8:50. 

Tank keeps apologizing and we reviewed what happened, him thinking he said O'Hare and me quite confident he never said O'Hare, and me admitting that when he flew Southwest the weekend before to the same destination, I probably just went on autopilot and was in Midway mode. By now, I've moved beyond How We Got Here, and I'm more focused on How We Are Getting There - with enough time to get thru security. This is O'Hare - security can be a beast. 

Then the Traveling Wilbury's End of the Line song comes on the radio. Tank turns it up, blaring the lyrics:  'Well, it's all right . . . " 

That's my kid in the baseball hat, making a run for security.

Tank:  Hey, this is a good song to listen to right about now. 

I gave him the too-soon-to-laugh-at-this-shit look. 

I pull up to O'Hare's United terminal and drop him off at 8:09 am. He kisses me, thanks me and I yell:  GO!!!!!

A couple of people in security allowed him to hop in front when he shared his WAS AT MIDWAY, FLIGHT'S HERE, OOPS scenario. He called me about fifteen minutes later:  I'M AT MY GATE! 

Well, that was a two hour trip in the car. I could've like GONE SOMEPLACE. No one gave Kay the message and she'd started walking home, but was hanging out in the shade under a tree waiting for me. 

In case you are wondering, Tank was not on Coach's flight the next weekend. That would've been too easy. I drove him to O'Hare Thursday morning, July 3rd. And I picked him up in the middle of rush hour on Monday evening, July 7th - also from O'Hare. I hope he enjoys city life, because I think he needs to stay in town for awhile. 

I might need to join GW's (our big-ass van) status as a former airport shuttle. 

*****

Have you ever messed up a flight or an airport?  Run out of gas?