Mini can make me laugh AND cook - new development (the cooking part, obvi)

I didn't intend to keep the Mini series going, but this happened and no one will be surprised at my kid's long winded text message. I tried adding this to one of my earlier Mini posts, but the word count got nutty. (what's this? I have self-appointed word limits? . . . I'm trying. It comes in waves).

Remember our arrangement? Before Mini could visit ND for a few days in order to hang out with friends prior to her Saturday move in date, she had to have her room and every other space that houses her stuff ordered. Then I added another mandatory task.  

The day we returned after dropping Reg off at Creighton, she whined about me taking too long to be ready to leave for a walk with her because I was prepping dinner. Whoa - hang on. I decided:  SHE must make dinner one time before going back to college. Let her decide how easy dinner prep is. 

If you're new here:  

• Mini cannot make minute rice. 
• Operating a standard can opener leaves her confused.  
• She cannot, apparently tell cooked chicken from frozen chicken.

The day of our walk, referenced above . . . well, she wasn't gonna go on my 'whole' walk, so I asked her to take the chicken out of the oven when she got home. She requested I ask Curly to do it. I decided to set the auto timer. 

I was nearing the end of my walk, and she texted me to say that she was starving and what time was the chicken gonna be done. The oven hadn't beeped. She opened the oven and was unsure if it had cooked. Huh? But you're standing there, and you can't tell frozen chicken breasts from cooked ones? 

She face timed me so that I could figure it out. As soon as the camera was on, I saw the problem. In my haste, I'd set the oven to start cooking at 5:30 am vs pm and no - the chicken was not cooked. *Yes, I recognize that this anecdote shines a light on MY mess up, and that's not really the focus here, so moving on . . .

To say Mini is kitchen/culinary challenged is an understatement. 

In great, earth-shattering news:  we all enjoyed the chicken pan fajitas with Greek Yogurt, lime juice, seasonings, and cilantro mixed in a sauce. Delish. Were we relieved that no one ended up in the ER with food poisoning? Yes. Yes, we were. 

Coach suggested we call this
meal:  Chicken Mo-jitas. IYKYK

A few minutes after dinner, Mini texted me the following. I cry laughed:  

Hey Mom… I need to apologize. Tonight, I made a dinner that was so good, I’m genuinely worried it might have threatened your position as the reigning culinary queen of the family. It wasn’t intentional—I just started cooking, and the flavors came together like they had something to prove. It was bold. It was balanced. It was dangerously close to “mom-level” good.

Please know that this isn’t an act of rebellion. I still revere your Sunday roasts, your crockpot confections and the sheer power of your baked mostaccioli. What I made tonight wasn’t a challenge—it was more of an homage, really. A tribute to the greatness I was raised on.

I hope we can coexist peacefully in this increasingly competitive kitchen landscape. We both bring unique talents to the table (literally), and the world—and our family—needs both of our styles to thrive. I humbly suggest we join forces rather than go to culinary war. Respectfully, and with a full stomach,

Your aspiring sous-chef Sent from Yahoo Mail for iPhone

Do  you live with someone who is culinary challenged - as in, can't use a standard can opener? 

Mini: career confusion (not intended as part of Mini week, but an update)

CAREER CONFUSION:  Mini worked her tail off at her internship and it has led to her room looking like a  crime scene. I can only wonder: "What was the perp looking for and after he ransacked her room, did he get what he was after and will he be back? Should we all live in fear of this ransack monster who must be sneaking in here under the cover of darkness in broad daylight?"

Anyway, she's realized this summer that she's suffering from career confusion. She's studying finance and she plans to work in consulting. Her internship has left her scratching her head. It's been somewhat stressful, because she really wanted to get a return offer. Like a job offer. At the same time, she's wondered if she even wants to work there. She figured she'd keep interviewing in the fall to see what else was out there whether or not she got a return offer. Most of her ND friends live on the east coast, and they are begging her to move out there after graduation. 

Mini's wardrobe -organized in the living
 room before departing for college, naturally.

Womp womp:  A week after I started drafting the Mini series, she went downtown for her allotted time slot to meet with the big wigs who were gonna tell her whether or not she'd get a return offer. Each intern had his/her own window of time. No one would see each other. She was so nervous, saying they'd been telling the interns that they had to make really tough decisions. 

She did not get a return offer and she was a puddle. Neither did one of her best ND buds who interned with her, and that softened the blow - maybe? She was beside herself. I asked if she cried and she explained that she initially held it together and said Thanks for the opportunity. Then Megan, her mentor or whatever walked in, and Mini thinks Megan started crying first, and then they were both crying. 

Me:  You will be fine. You're an Evans Scholar. You get straight A's at Notre Dame. You have plenty of time, and you'll not be homeless if you graduate and you haven't chosen a job yet. You weren't even sure if that type of job is what you are looking for. (I did tell her that this sucks and that I understood why she was upset, and all that - but seriously, all will be fine). 

Peppering Non-Role Model Mother Stories into the Mix:  On the way to grab Tank from the airport after one of his many lake house visits a few months ago, Mini hopped in the car. It was early on in her intern days and she was worried she wasn't picking up the info fast enough and what if she didn't get a return offer? 

It was then that I recounted my first 'real' job after college. I think my pathetic story helped her reframe her situation. 

I made 22K to answer phones at what was then Bank One, now Chase. They'd switched computer systems and Coach's neighbor was a VP for the bank. He hired me. By the time I started the phone never rang. Over my lunch hour, I'd take legit REM naps on the built in couch in the large women's restroom, which might speak volumes about my undiagnosed-to-date celiac disease, but also - the job was SO boring.  

#gogetter

Anyone else have a less than impressive early career move? Hey at least mine serves for a source of humor for my wound-tight kid, right? 

Mini week: funny friends, & braless shopping

Funny friends:  Mini's college crew is full of humor. Like, one of the girls at ND, Therese, is studying (I'm not sure what she's studying, American Studies?), but her dream job is to get a writing gig on SNL or something. It I was a betting person, I'd say this will happen. She flew out to LA for spring break and had actual meetings with places/studios - not sure of the correct terminology. I drove the girls back to school from the airport and she was in the car and I was all ears. 

Mini flipping me off
in a hot tub last week.
She, Curly, & I went away.
Me:  Um, don't you recall
the Hot Food Syndrome
you had in May
from a hot tub?

Therese called Mini a few weeks ago and Mini played me the voicemail:  "So, I had lunch with the other interns and I told them I had to come up with some new bits before I went back to college, and they looked at me like a had am offensive phrase carved into my forehead, and it was the most uncomfortable lunch I've ever been to. Then I went on to explain that my friend Mini was went to a dance and her phone had just broken, so she wrote phone numbers all up her arm so she could still meet up with friends throughout the night. She brought her phone case with her because it holds her cards and stuff, and she went around the dance (or later the bar?) and told people they looked like a super cute couple and she wanted to take their picture and then she'd fake take their pic with just her phone case, and it was hysterical and I CANNOT WAIT TO GET BACK TO SCHOOL TO SEE YOU!"

Mini spent the whole summer nervous about whether or not she'd get a return offer from her internship. A few weeks ago, another friend Elle texted her to wish her luck with her capstone (internship project) and then added this:  Well, I found a New York apartment for us, if they make the biggest mistake of their lives. 

See what I mean? Funny people. They won't be so funny though, if they convince my kid to live on the east coast. I'm kidding. I'll be fine with her doing whatever she chooses, because I know she ultimately plans to be in Chicago. And I'm of the mindset - You're only young once, etc. She says that she would like to live in another city at some point, and she feels like if she doesn't do that right away then she never will. 

I just hope she realizes that the umbilical cord won't stretch that far.

Mini and I went to a grad
party in June. I'm
in the orange dress. She had the orange
 shoes on and as we approached the
 party, we swapped shoes
 to better match our outfits. 

BAN THE BRA (while shopping):  Back in January, right before Mini left for study abroad in Florence, we were shopping. She tried something on, and warned me before she opened the dressing room door that she wasn't wearing a bra. 

Me:  What? Why?

Mini:  I don't have a bra. 

Me:  Huh? 

Mini:  Remember someone threw away that bag of clothes when I was packing up for break? (she said this like, Duh. As if now that she'd lost a bra - that she'd strategically packed in a garbage bag - that the gig was up, no more bras in her future, like annoyed that I'd even asked). 

Me:  But you've been home for two weeks. Why didn't you go buy a new bra?

****

Mini is a hoot. She's also a hair twirler, and I'm constantly scolding her - it's so distracting. You're an adult woman, stop playing with your hair. She suffers from anxiety, as most of you know - a new situation that Coach blames on her being surrounded by over-achievers at ND. She's met with a therapist this summer, and it seems to be helping. Our primary prescribed her something for when she's having a rough night and needs to sleep. 

Mini is bright. She sees things clearly, and she has a big heart. She's quick witted and sharp, but dang - as Curly says, Do not get in an arguement with her, because you can't win. 

Pausing Mini week: college drop off, tear tracker, etc.

Update:  It's Sunday. Coach and I are driving home after dropping Reg off at Creighton in Omaha. Five down, three to go . . . in case anyone's counting. 

Same thing, different kid next year:  We drop Curly this time next year, and that's an overwhelming and different scenario. I owe you an updated basketball post. She's had a few offers from D2 schools, but not sure those are a good fit for her. I think she and I were a tad clueless about this process -thinking, she'll get offers from schools and she'll pick one. Only if you're the mayor of Simpleton. 

College kid:  Reg is settling into dorm life - and already met guys who wanted to work out the first morning. After waiting a year to go to college - he IS ready. I'm not sure if his memory has improved, but I have noted that he doesn't say Whatcha-ma-call-it every other word while speaking. A good sign. 

I'm ready for Reg to find his people, have his adventure, and settle into a place where we are confident he will grow while being challenged. He has applied to be a manager for the basketball team. He's already met several guys, some of whom are younger siblings of Tank's friends. Reg is a social guy and I have  no doubt that he'll connect with great kids. 

Big bro advice:  Lad stopped by the house the night before we drove Reg. His advice:  Be nice to everyone. Be that guy. 

Great advice, and Reg doesn't have a mean bone in his body, so I'm sure that'll come  naturally. 

Tears tracker, Who shed tears at freshman drop off over the years:  

* Reg - none. I will miss him. He's a good egg, always willing to do whatever we ask. He'll go to the grocery store, drive the little girls anywhere, take them to a workout, show them how to mow the lawn, play volleyball in the yard, etc. He's super helpful. I know he's where he belongs and he's ready, so that helps. He isn't like Tank and Ed, meaning he's a son who is rarely interested in chatting with me about life, etc. He tends to connect more with Coach in sports talk.  

* Mini was a slobbery mess and I was not much better, but at the risk of sounding like a 2 year old. She started it!  When she's gone, I feel a little unmoored. 

* Tank - I got a little choked up, but I mostly held it in until we were in the car and I took a few breaths. We had foster boys, Day and Hay, along for Tank's drop off and they sort of distracted us/added another layer to the weekend. 

Because this is Creighton's biggest
class ever, many students ended up in a
triple -the size of a double. Reg is squeezed
into a double with two other boys.
They have a common room
connected to a double.
 All 5 boys share a bathroom. In typical
 Reg fashion, he was very nonchalant
 about the tight space. "I've shared a
 room with two brothers for most of my life."

* Ed's drop off I did solo and was out of there like a bat out of hell. For the life of me, I can't remember why, but I had to be home for something. I carried his stuff to his room, made one run to Target for the command strips he left at home, and then raced off (shedding a few quick tears in the car where he couldn't see me). Early that morning, we woke Curly up to say good-bye to Ed. That was a scene. I had to peel her little fingers off of his neck to extract her. I think she was 10 years old. (No, she didn't cry when Lad left for college). 

* Lad was so challenging the summer before college (my SIL Aunt Leprechaun later pointed out that anxiety can manifest as aggression. Bingo, me thinks). I practically drop kicked him from the car. He had to arrive early for football. I carried stuff in, took a few photos, and ran like the wind. A friend swears that college-bound kids act up months before leaving to make the separation easier. 

What a week:  Life has been happening at breakneck speed here, and I've not yet responded to comments from Thursday. Last week, I stayed in three different hotels for a total of four nights in three different states. I'll explain soon. 

Back to our regularly scheduled program on Thursday:  Girl Mini Week Interrupted.

Have you dropped kids at college - tears? Did you cry when your folks dropped you at college, camp? 

Mini week: everything from compliment circles to laundry challenges

 The usual:  If family members become upset with one another, or if she senses a mood, Mini will announce:  OK, I think it's time for a compliment circle. I'll start . . .

Caddy stuff:  After someone caddies, Mini will ask questions like:  Wait, did you caddy for papier -mache face?  (there are so many nicknames for the golfers and there are guys who tip great, but are a drag, and guys who are so much fun the tip is  of no importance, etc). There's another guy, who I've not heard about this summer, that she refers to as baby chick. 

Once this summer Mini caddied for a couple of men and their adult age sons. One set of father/son was so pompous and rude, she just couldn't. The blow by blow when she got home had me dying laughing. Apparently the one guy kept telling her to deal with ball mark (this might not be the correct terminology, but it's a little indent made by a ball). I'm not a caddy, and I don't play one on TV, but fixing those is not the caddy's job. I verified this with other caddies, and I happen to live with several. 

Tank was home when she was telling this and he was like, Right, not something a caddy is expected to do, but I find it oddly satisfying to fix them. Mini was like, SAME. But this guy started walking around and pointing down, like constantly, saying, "Um, Mini (point). Oh, Mini (point)."  ~ he did these little point gestures and she kept saying Oh, sure. Then she'd scurry around and fix the ball marks (or whatever). 

I think she might've contemplated stabbing him in the eye with a tee, but I can't be sure. 

Slob:  Her room is out of control, per usual. She plans to go to ND for a few days next week. Most of her friends will be living off campus and they're arriving next week. Because she has the Evans Scholarship, she has to live in the dorm her senior year. It's fine - she'll be crashing at her besties' houses ALL THE TIME. 

Wednesday evening (after we returned from our 3rd annual big girl/mom overnight at our favorite spot in Lake Geneva), I walked into her room and started to read her the riot act about the state of her room, reminding her that she is NOT going to ND to hang with friends next week if the room isn't 'handled', and by handled - I refer to the bin of shoes in the basement, the junk in her mudroom locker, and the other shoes she stores in the garage on a shelf. This is to say nothing of the things in her actual closet/floor of her room. 

My riot act began with:  I'm tired . . . 

Mini interrupted me with an imitated voice of the elderly mom in the movie The Help, complete with southern drawl:  Hilly, aren't you tired? C'mon, Hilly.

Well, I think we all know how that conversation ended . . . with me dying of laughter. She was laying in her bed, charging her phone. Why does this involve her laying down and staring at the screen when there is work.to.be.done? My laughter did nothing to inspire her to get up and take action in the room. 

On the way home from Lake Geneva, I told Curly that Coach and I were talking about how she's had to put up with more of the nonsense from Kay and Rae because she's still at home - one more year till college. I wanted her to know that we see her and that we know it hasn't been easy. 

Anyway, I finish saying all this and Mini looks at Curly in the backseat and says:  Retweet. 

Curly asked for clarification, Mini was like, Oh, I'm just saying I totally agree. You've been stuck here because you aren't in college yet. 

Laundry issues:  Last summer I asked Mini what she was doing, thinking I'd seen her grab the wrong bottle when doing her laundry. Um, yeah. She'd been spraying Resolve carpet cleaner on stains on her clothes. I keep all the cleaners on the same shelf in the laundry room. I guess I just assume that people who do laundry can read. When I pointed out the error of her ways, she shrugged and was like, Oh, well it still got the stains out of my clothes. 

She cannot wait to get back to college. It's true she hasn't really been in South Bend since December (unless we count the hot foot syndrome inducing weekend in May), because of year abroad. She may be anxious to leave, but I'm gonna feel like I've lost my right arm. I am a leftie, but still. 

Anyone witness a family member use something unusual in their laundry? If you live with a slob, are you successful at ignoring their room (locker, bins, etc?)

Mini week: she's not Mini because she's small (she's 6 ft tall), but she IS so puny, it's funny

Who knew?  In 8th grade Mini came home from school on one of the last days and announced that she was voted 'most likely to have a talk show like Jimmy Fallon'. Translation:  she won most humorous. 

Me:  Oh, huh. So, you like talk . . . out loud? and people hear you and they think you're funny? 

Fun fact:  after three boys, is it a shock that
 Mini's first word was:  Bow? She had a flop
 of hair that fell in her face and she'd wake
 up asking for her bow so she could
 see, and I was eager to oblige. 

Mini:  Yeah. I talk and people laugh at what I say. I'm funny. 

I was so surprised, because I assumed she was like me when I was growing up and I didn't dare speak during class. I had no idea she was chatty at school. At home, she had so many loud older brothers that she rarely got a word in during dinner. Who knew? 

Now it's hard to think about Mini without connecting her with a hysterical comment. Just yesterday I texted the link to our portrait session in the family group chat, and explained that my email address was the sign in and our last name was the password to be able to view the photos. For some reason, Tank struggled with this concept and asked for clarification. Later a sib insisted that Tank was yanking my chain. Anyway, I resent the directions, and Mini, who was on the train on her way home from her internship texted regarding my instructions:  I just read this in Yoda's voice. 

Of course she did. 

Mini is Oscar here.
But she also was
the OG cookie monster
 and the OG big bird. 

QUICK:  Thursday evening, Reg had friends over to hang in the basement. Honestly, when doesn't Reg have friends over to hang in the basement? Anyway, something happened to the basement door handle and when Reg came upstairs to welcome a few more kids to the house, he couldn't get the basement door open again. The handle would no longer activate the insert-thingy. The friends in the basement came up to try the door and they couldn't get it open from their side either. 

Da-da-da-dum. 

More kids showed up. A line formed in our hallway. Kids were hanging in the front hall, and the kids that were closer to the basement were turning around explaining the situation as each newbie entered. 

Coach and Reg had an audience while they attempted to use a butter knife to try to get the door open . . .  to no avail. About 5 minutes into the debacle, Mini, who was sitting at the kitchen countertop turned in her chair and hollered:  Hey, Reg, have you had them each sign a waiver? (and the crowd waiting to get in the basement cracked up). 

A minute later the door was opened and the group started filing down the stairs. I called after them:  You're a brave lot, because you know we're just gonna lock you down there in a minute, right? 

LOSE MY NUMBER:  I texted in the family chat Saturday afternoon. Coach and I were heading into the city for an overnight to celebrate our 29th anniversary. Mini decided to visit Ed in the city, and I was texting options for who was gonna skip caddying to watch Kay, and what train was Mini taking home/how early would she get home in the am? 

Mini texted:  I have a handle on this. Lose my number. 

*****

Lest you think our anniversary weekend went off without a hitch, well - I've got some 'splaining to do - but that'll be after a few more installments of Mini week. Think 'almost running out of gas on the way to the wrong airport' level of epic. Get excited. Let me know if there is a Mini story I've alluded to and I haven't delivered, and I'll add it to my posts. 

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.

 

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