Goodbyes for now and hellos soon

In ten days we will have fostered for two solid years (we've been licensed longer but our first long term placement - Child B. and Child C. - arrived 2 years ago) with a two week break between placements.
And after 18 mos child D., Child E., and Child F. are moving back to their parent's home. There are boxes and boxes of clothes and toys to pack. This transition has been progressing for over a month and it's nice to finally have some permanency instead of splitting weeks and schedules and bouncing tired cranky kids back and forth.

For all five kids, this is a sad change ... and a happy one ... so everyone is a little out of sorts and confused. But as we get closer to a consistent bed every night the more settled everyone seems.

And everyone is sympathetic to us - as in, to Ren Man and myself. I get it, kind of. But this is the point. The point is to be a safe holding spot for kids while their parents learn new skills, strengthen their community/support system, and maybe even space to re-evaluate their choices/life/future. It's not a perfect system - far from it, but in this case, it seems to have taken hold in a positive way. And fortunately for us, we're working with some pretty amazing parents who value our relationship with their kids.

Having said all that, this investment takes a ton of effort, time, resources and it's been a relatively long time - especially given how young these girls are. This is all with the underlying pressure of feeling like every move, scratch, illness, parenting choice is analyzed and assessed by an almost-stranger who you didn't invite into your life - beyond deciding to foster. The lack of respect applied to original families (which is discouraging and frustrating) is just as often arbitrarily applied to foster parents, in general (having said that - this is a general statement - we've felt beyond thankful for the hours and hours of support and guidance and explanation and respect shared with us from the caseworker for this specific case). This is completely draining.
We're so honored to have seen them grow and mature over the last 18mos. But it's discouraging to see all that progress disintegrate the longer the kids are away from you - it's not even big things. Here's a silly example: in our house, you shut the toilet lid when you're done. This is apparently not the case at the girls parents' because the lid is now consistently left up. But we know they are morphing into someone else's kids who we just happen to know really well, and the toilet seat being up or down is not a big deal for this short time during transition. It's a good reminder of all the adjustments foster kids are expected to make the instant they move from one home to another - on top of the trauma of the move in the first place.

This summer is slated to be our busiest yet. We have all kinds of projects on the brink of beginning - including one huge one we're keeping under wraps until it's a definite.
Oh yeah.
And a new baby we're growing that will presumably come out into the world at some point this summer.
So when the girls were looking more and more like they would be leaving us we talked about taking a break until November or so. This would get us past weddings and high school seniors in terms of photography and through the intensity of summer farming.
But as the Big Project becomes more and more likely we're thinking the fostering break might last years, not just months.

And part of this is saying "Goodbye" to the notion of a larger family. I have always said I wanted 6 kids. Ren Man is pretty committed to not going over five. But even at five, he gets socially overwhelmed. And child rearing is intense and when you make the choice to raise kids, you make the choice not to do other things. And right now we're making the choice to do those other things and be satisfied with 2 (and a half) kids. It's taken a while to get here - because for years (since I was a child myself, literally) I would tell everyone that I wanted 6 kids (originally it was 50 birthed and 50 adopted, so 6 seemed a reasonable compromise). Every.single.time the adult I was telling would inevitably scoff: "wait until you have one!"
How condescending!
And all that did was encourage my adamance that I would raise six kids. And I was that person that said she'd have six kids.
I also attribute this desire to raise more than four kids to my mom - who I observed first hand as she raised four kids. What a testament to her mothering, to find myself wanting to emulate her so much - and then some!
I try not to take it as a testament to my mothering then, when Del insists she wants to remain child-free. Instead I think she is wise to see that there are so many choices in life and raising children is not a more valued than another choice - but by choosing to raise children, you choose to not do other things. And by choosing to do other things, you are choosing not to raise children.
And I hope hope hope no grownup ever says to her: "just wait until you get older, then you'll see how you feel."

So goodbye for now to girls - our daughters of 18mos, goodbye for now to fostering, goodbye for now to the expectation of a large family.
Hello soon to an evolved relationship with our girls, hello soon to spring and summer, hello soon to new projects, and hello soon to a new baby.

What I want :: foster-to-adopt

Unsupervised visits began for dad and immediately a family member made a huge (slightly scary, I'm told - I haven't asked for detail) allegation against the dad and his family. So unsupervised visits were complicated because they couldn't happen at dad's house.

At long last, the claims are unfounded and the first at home unsupervised visit is in the works.
I'm so excited.
Or so I told the caseworker.
"Are you?" the caseworker asked, "I can't figure out how you want this to end."
"I don't know either," I replied, "so if you figure it out, let me know."
"Oh, so it's not just me," she said.
"No!" I wailed. "I want foster care to work."
"I do too! It just doesn't often," she said.
"So I'm excited that they could go home - this could work!" I explained. "I'm excited about a new placement. I'm also excited about how much progress they've made so far here (and mad a little at how amazing the baby is - as in ahead developmentally on every level - and maybe the older two would have been so far ahead had they had less neglect in their early life) and how much more they could gain by staying in this environment." I paused. "I'm sorry, I really don't know what I want. Both outcomes are great and both suck."
We talked about how some days I just want them GONE, but how I think that's how parents feel in general. She agreed. She also said that more experienced caseworkers than her and long term foster parents have said there's a shift that happens after you know the kids are staying forever part of your family. She said she thought I might be holding part of myself back, which I may well be doing. We talked about how this was the best case scenario - both parents have expressed that they can see how important I am to their children and they want that relationship to continue even if the kids did go home. We talked about how that's a positive thing but sometimes it is hard to draw a line on how much support you give that family as they struggle in the future. You care about these kids so much, you're willing to take them every weekend so their parents can party ... at least the kids are then safe. But that just drags out the inevitable and causes more damage. We both agreed that partying would probably not happen (did I mention that their dad is doing well and seems to have bought into the message of AA, etc?), but still good to be aware of.

After talking for several more mintues (I could talk all day about our case with our caseworker, and she's so good at helping me process and letting me go around in circles in my thought processes), we left it with a plan to talk the following day to firm up plans. We both want to give this dad as many visits as possible. He's worked damn hard, no one is doubting that, and now it's time to fish or cut bait (a term for the judge during a foster-parent training).

I got off the phone and told Ren Man about my confusion - or the caseworkers- or both. Do I want them to stay or go?
"You just want it to be over," he responded.
And it clicked into place. That is what I want.

I called the caseworker back with some other thoughts, and also shared this revelation.
"So do you want them to go home, or not?" she asked.
"I don't know," I whined. And then after a pause: "I just want to know what's going to happen. Are we raising these three kids for life or are we not?"
"You don't want to be in limbo," she said.
"YES!" again, more clarity, it felt.
"That makes sense," she replied.

And I slept better that night :)

First Day of School

I didn't really intend to take a break from blogging ... and suddenly it's the first day of school!
So apparently I took a break.
Oops.
How was your summer? (That's what you ask on the first day back to school, right?)

It's funny going through the first day of kindergarten ... when you unschool.
Yesterday was an orientation for Child F and the principal asked the crowd of parents: "Just by show of hands, how many of you are doing this for the first time, sending your oldest off to school?"
Wait. Can you ask those questions again, more slowly? I think those were two different questions and I have two different answers.
I just kept my hand down.
I asked the nutrition specialist, in charge of the cafeteria, pointed questions about their food system. Not because the answers mattered (although I was curious), but because I wanted to raise awareness and point out that these were issues to be concerned about (where is the food being made? is it made from scratch? where is the food being sourced?).

Child F.'s mom came for orientation. We've had more reasons to be together lately (Child D. had dental surgery recently, for example) and it's nice to co-parent in real-time instead of catching each other for minutes before and after weekly visits.

Child F. is really excited ... and pretty nervous. I woke her up before her sisters, and she was still asleep in my arms as I quietly carried her downstairs. She sleepily got dressed, but was ready for breakfast. I packed a snack (panicking a little - what do I send for a snack!?) of yogurt and homemade strawberry syrup/jam and some homemade granola. Might this child live with hippies?

I found myself feeling all adrenaline-y when we were waiting for the bus. I'm excited for Child F. - she's ready. And the last few weeks have been challenging. I attribute this to the fact that we are very close to the anniversary of her removal and the weather took a sharp turn for cold at the end of August. The last few days have been better, but I'm assuming the break where Child F. is at school and away from us will be a good thing (but only half believe).

Child F. was mostly worried about the cat being in the road.

I'm nervous about her academic skills ... we haven't done anything over the summer ... on purpose ... that is purposefully academic. She was in headstart with special ed services and as we unschool, I'm a firm believer in "kids will learn what they need to know when they need to know it". For Child F. that was: how to heat food in the microwave, how to go to the bathroom, how to stay out of harms way, how to fill a bottle with milk when the baby was crying ... not: how to count, what sounds some letters make, or how to organize by shape. So I asked her to count last night. It was on a survey thing the teacher sent home. And she counted to 11 - without missing one number! This is huge! I've been told over and over that kindergarten teachers have a wide range of student ability that enter their classroom on their first day - and this girl isn't going to be the one needing the most academic forward movement. I took some deep breaths ... and then the child counted to 11. So cool. I'm really proud of all the gains she's made.

Here's the thing: she's going to be fine. Better than fine. She's going to excel. I know it. But it's hard (and I've only known this kid a year - imagine if I'd been with her day in and day out for the last 5.5 years!) to let her go do this by herself. She was nervous about where she was supposed to go when the bus dropped her off (there will be all kinds of adults there to help her on her way as she walks to the very end of a long hallway to her classroom). But she's got this. And you know how I know? Even if she would love to have a familiar hand to hold as she steps into the next big change of her life - she doesn't need it. She's done far bigger and scarier things than any other kid in her class (I'm guessing). Last year, she was taken from all she knew and brought to a brand new house with more questions than she could even articulate and no one answering in a way that made sense. And this was the scariest thing ever - even scarier than anything she'd experienced at home.



And she's done awesome. She can count to 11. She can check in with others who are sad. She can voice her wants and needs. Kindergarten is going to be easy-peasy.



Her teacher seems awesome and Child F. is excited. And the house is relatively peaceful with one less kid for the day. I can't wait to hear all about her first-day-of-school-adventures in about two hours!

3 examples of disrespect

I will use Headstart as the example, although similar (or the exact same) things have happened through other service providers.
I assume this is a low income thing - you are treated disrespectfully in these ways because you are presumed low income (a correct technical assumption for us, but not the same, I don't think as culturally low income).

Example 1:
Our child comes home smelling like sunblock. This is the first we knew about sunblock use at our child's preschool. In our past experience, we would have received a note home for us to sign giving permission to use a certain brand (likely organic and "all natural") of sunblock on our child. Not at Headstart. Kids are sunblocked up with knows what, without our consent.

Example 2:
Our child is provided breakfast, lunch, and snack. The food could be worse. But ours is better. By far. But we bite our tongue, and minimize the fuss we want to make over the food choices (graham crackers and juice for snack anyone?), food sources (what's seasonal? what's organic? what's local? what are these questions?!), and food preparation (the person who cooks the food smokes regularly in her car and does not pre-wash her hands). At one point, we asked if Child F. could be limited to one serving. She was gaining weight very quickly (that's what happens when you are not fed adequately and then suddenly a buffet appears) and we knew we would prefer to fill her at home with whole foods. We were told that the policy is for every child to be allowed at least seconds (the children serve themselves so choose their own portions) because for many children this is the only food they get all day. Apparently the policy is rigid. We didn't talk about perhaps sending Child F.'s food home with another child. We've never been asked for input on the menu choices.

Example 3:
Twice we have received notice of a parent-teacher conference days before the conference. The first time, we were told when the conference would be and that it would be happening at our house. Um, okay. Thanks for respecting me with a CHOICE. The second time, our child missed the day the notice was sent home and I was called an hour ahead of our conference time with apologies and stating we could reschedule. No, that's fine, we can do this. Oh, and this time it's at the school.



The assumption that one can put sunscreen on a kid with who knows what chemicals in it. The assumption that any food is better than no food (which I would concur with, but you can't tell me you can't do better - grow a garden at the school! That's a start!). The assumption that parents are sitting around with nothing on their schedules available at a moments notice for a meeting.
This all feels completely disrespectful. Except no one says anything (I'm guessing). Because they don't know? Because they are so beat down? Because there are bigger issues in life?

It's not hard: think ... Would I like it if someone did this to me?

Would I like it if someone made the choice to put a cream on your kid?
Would I like it if someone fed your child substandard food and insisted they have access to all they wanted?
Would I like it if someone sent me a note informing me of a meeting time without any input from me ... and worse, only sent the letter giving me minimal time to rearrange my schedule?

We started fostering because ...

(already "parenting" my sister)

From way way way back when I wanted to adopt.
That desire to adopt evolved from wanting to operate an orphanage ... until realizing that children would move away from my home, and I really wanted to raise kids to adulthood (and beyond).
So I decided to adopt 50 kids and birth 50 kids.
Then I realized that was a little impractical or more accurately: impossible.
I then discovered India and decided I wanted to go there and care for children.
In fact, I wanted to do everything Mother Theresa did (except the Catholic part).
And then I found out about Mother Theresa and was pretty upset that she lived the life I'd dreamed for myself.

And my hopes and dreams were dashed (apparently this drive for the "first" one to do x, y, z started at birth, being the first born).

But adoption stayed with me. An important goal in life. I wanted to adopt. So much, that it was one of those things I stated when Ren Man and I started "dating". I wanted to do good in the world and I wanted to help those that would need my protection the most.

Ren Man was adamant that he wanted to birth one kid first - because he didn't think it was fair to "screw up" someone else's child (in hindsight this is a loaded term and says that children are "owned", something we're not so comfortable with. Also, Ren Man has turned out to be the best dad I know. Hands down. I'm not (too) biased. Objectively speaking, he's only matched by one dad in how involved he is in day-to-day-life of childrearing. That's how much his fathering excels in our culture, which is sad, because he's just parenting).

I was adamant I wanted to start raising babies asap.
So we made Noah.

And then we met a friend who had a baby very close in age.
Adoption quickly came up ... because it was next on life's "to-do" list, in my mind.
Coincidentally this friend was adopted.
And, this is shocking, she was: anti adoption. Did you know there was such a thing? There is. I didn't know either. I was amazed.
Through hours and hours of respectful and gentle debate she pointed out that:

- if there was such a need for adoption, the cost wouldn't be so great. Somebody is making money off of adoptions. In other countries (Australia, in particular) the adoption culture is different and while not perfect, may be worth considering.
- while adoption may feel like a "blessing" to the adopting family, it's a loss for the child and their original family. In fact, in the case of infant adoption, the child's first experience is loss.
- if one has that much money to go through the adoption process, why aren't we using that to help that parent raise their child? (although, it takes more than throwing money at a problem to solve that, I know)
- there is evidence to suggest that the "supply" (of adoptable children) is not always available to meet the demand, and unscrupulous (to say the least) measures have been taken
- this idea that original families are all drug-using, uncaring, homeless ruffians feeds an industry, but isn't necessarily accurate. (There are parents who are pressured into relinquishing their parental rights for all sorts of reasons.)

But.
But.
But.
But she was right. All of this was food for thought.

I had just come off of nine months working closely with pregnant and parenting teens. I'd seen 15 year olds living in their own apartments with pealing linoleum tiles in the living room, sandy grit beneath my feet, a toddling diapered child with smeared faces sucking juice from a bottle. I'd seen bugs and rodents, clutter and squalor. I'd seen bruises from fists and heard 2 year olds use swear words I didn't know could be used so frequently in one sentence. I'd met a mom in the homeless shelter and had her 18mos old cling to me when she woke from her nap, not reaching for her mom. I'd listened as the 18 year old told me she was pregnant again, and the 19 year old as she explained that she'd slept in after being in the ER with her one year old late into the night - not because the baby was hurt, but because she'd been whacked with a tire iron in the head at 1am, with the baby awake in the room with her. I'd heard the 30 year old mom mention to the 15 year old girl holding her infant, how she'd also tried to get her GED.

In other words: I'd seen evidence for the cycle of poverty that included babies that could have a better chance at life if not raised by their original family.
But was that true? Is it better to be raised by your family of origin and end up like them for better or worse? or better to be raised by another family with the chance of becoming more than a teen-mom-trying-to-avoid-the-abusive-boyfriend-and-get-her-ged?
I still don't know the answer.

And here's the thing: every.single.one of those teen moms would shudder at the suggestion of "adoption". They saw that as a loveless choice - they would never give up on their baby to some stranger! And they ostracized peers who did choose adoption.
And I don't know that I blamed them. I was a teen not so long before, and I knew that desperate desire for a baby to call my own.

Teens are supposed to be self-involved, selfish even. That's their job. That's essential to their maturation process. And what I realized was: these teens couldn't make a selfless choice. And the selfless choice would be taking a deep breath and hoping for better for their child. But it's a risk. For sure. Adoption doesn't mean happily-ever-after automatically. And being a teen parent doesn't mean sadly-ever-after. But the parents who would mostly likely see positive outcomes if they chose adoption, won't choose that for their children. They can't.

But those that do choose adoption - just by making that choice - indicate that they can or could in fact raise their child satisfactorily. (And the whole idea of what is "satisfactory" in terms of parenting is tricky too - who gets to decide ultimately, if a person is parenting well enough?)

It seems that the issue isn't your age or economic stability or job potential or anything like that. It seems to me that the number one indicator of your success as a parent is your support network.

This whole process of grappling with this complicated morality of adoption (or not) took a few months of many-houred conversations.

In the end fostering seemed to be the most "right" or "moral" way to adopt. No one (as far as I can tell) is making money through the fostering system. And these are kids who have families who have consistently shown that they can not keep their child safe. This doesn't mean they can't keep their child in organic clothing or even clean clothing. This doesn't mean they aren't feeding their child healthy foods or even 3 meals a day. This doesn't mean they aren't reading to their child every night. All of these things would (and ... should I say: worse?) are completely acceptable parenting methods in our culture. These are parents who aren't clothing, feeding, interacting with, supervising their children - if we're talking about neglect. And these are things we've decided, as a culture, are essential to child rearing. So much so, that we'll remove your child if you do not clothe, feed, interact with, or supervise your child.
Yes, this is a broken system too (like adoption) and yes there are mistakes made (that's what happens when people get involved).

I want to do good in the world and I want to help those that need protection the most. To me, children in foster care fit that. It's not that their parents don't want to do good or don't want to protect their children. But for whatever reason (and so often it seems to be from lack of support, not lack of desire to care for their child(ren)). And this whole thing is so cyclical. Often the children in foster care have parents who were also in foster care. I want to break that cycle - by parenting children forever, or not. Sometimes it means parenting children as a way to provide support and time for their parents while they learn how to parent.

So that's why we foster (as with most everything we do), because we want to leave the world a better place than when we arrived.

Kin-fostering

More than one friend who has contacted me about kin-fostering. This is when you have a family member who is in foster care and you seek custody.
So here's what I understand as far as kin fostering - please understand this is based on NOT kin-fostering and only fostering in one county in the entire country. So take all this as a starting off point, but not the end all be all.

Considerations regarding kin-fostering:
* If you find out that you have a family member in care, you may have first "dibs" on that child or children. Contact your local foster care unit (called DCYf, DSS, DHS, etc), introduce yourself, and ask to talk to someone about kin care. Put your name in the "hat" fast. The speed at which you express interest doesn't necessarily give you first "dibs" but it does speak highly of your interest and dedication to this child. This will weigh in your favor with the judge.

* The sooner you are able to have the relative-child in your home, the better - because this means fewer transitions for the child - a good thing. Scratch that, not fewer transitions, that's not what I mean, I guess. The longer a child is with a family, the harder it is to move on from that family (harder=more damaging).

* If there is any way you can raise a relative-child, do it. Having that biological connection for a child is preferable to not.

* You will likely encounter unrealistic expectations from family members regarding the child. You must be committed to following all court orders (often orders include no contact with original parents, educational requirements, medical interventions, etc). Think carefully how that would play out in your family dynamic and the players closer to the child (for example: in our case a relative petitioned for custody and was given so much flack from family that she withdrew her petition. I've heard this family's reaction is not uncommon).

* As with all foster placements, reunification is the first goal of fostering. This means, the county is working very hard to get as many supports and services in place in order to make it possible for the children to return to their original parents. The effectiveness of this varies greatly from case to case and no doubt, county to county. When we first started fostering the reunification rate was about 50% in our county. Now it's 40%. Reunification may or may not be more challenging when fostering a relative.

Considerations when not fostering a relative in fostercare:
* Be in contact with the caseworker working with the child(ren), but know that it could take up to a month (or more?) for the caseworker to be assigned. In our experience the transition from Child Protective Services (CPS) to the foster care unit (caseworkers change during this transition) has not been even close to a month, more like a week. Once the foster care caseworker is assigned - this is the person you want to be talking to. Call this person regularly for updates.

* Make it known that you'd like continued contact with the child. Again, this connection to original family is so beneficial for the child(ren). You may have to petition the court for visits and/or contact depending on the level of involvement you're requesting and your previous connection with the family members who were central to the child(ren)s removal in the first place.

* Personally, I'm happy to be in contact with family (actually, thrilled!) who I hear are worried about the children we're fostering, as long as I feel confident that they are not going to harm the child(ren). This is a valid concern considering the reason that children are in foster care in the first place. However, the definition of "harm" is very subjective. And we're always weighing the benefit of our children having that familial connection and whatever "harm" they may be experiencing in the process. I have a list of several family members and their addresses - it's in a court paper documenting whether these family members have said they'd be interested in caring for the girls long term. When I heard that one of the couples on this list was really worried about the girls but would be hard pressed to take on additional children given their immediate family's needs and limits, I wrote them a really long letter with updates on all three girls. I don't know, but I hope this isn't out of the ordinary. I want to foster any connection I can safely encourage with our kids' original family.
All that to say: let the caseworker know that you'd be open to contact with the foster family if the foster family is willing. If they aren't - then let this be a mild red flag - say a pink flag ;) Just something to keep in mind in case there are other things concerning you about the child(ren)s placement.



All of this is be and complicated. It's not easy because people are involved. Children, no less. A piece of you out in the world with an unknown family.
Please add your advice on kin-fostering to the comments - whether you're a foster parent, foster child, or have family in foster care.

Do you have a relative in foster care and you're not sure how to proceed? Feel free to drop me a line!

"She's so smart!"

Preface: After the Momma Bear arrived, she was quickly followed by the my-kids'-mom-can't-say-or-do-anything-right. I'm sad this person arrived on the scene because I prefer to be in mom's corner. But it gets to you. The negative choices that negatively impact the kids you love and care for very much as you parent them day-in-and-day-out with the hope that this break will allow their parents to gain the skills and services they need to effectively parent.

Standing outside as the girls mom is saying "bye" to me for another week we talk briefly about Child F.'s constant questions.
"She's really smart," mom says.
I don't really know how to respond. Define smart. This is a child who can't count to her own age and has worked REALLY hard to be able to count to 3. She knows her colors now but can't sing the ABC's. She receives special education services three times a week. In preschool.
No, she's not smart.
She's got a long way to go before she would be considered academically ready for her next year at school, never mind "smart".
Is this parent rose tinted glasses? Because your child is always amazing? Or does this parent see a child who is really intelligent when she hears what this child says?

A week later it was time for Child F. to go for a Kindergarten screening. Will she still be in this district when school starts in 6mos? I don't know. But the school district would prefer, when given the choice, to dis-enroll a student at the last minute instead of enrolling a student at the last minute. So just in case, Child F. was scheduled for a Kindergarten screening in this district. I was curious how she would do. Having done a kindergarten screening once before I drilled Child F. on her birthdate on the way to the screening (it didn't help). Child F. was a little nervous on the way there but then didn't hesitate to follow a teacher off into another room away from me - something I couldn't imagine Del and Noah doing even at 5 and 7. But Child F. is a social and outwardly confident girl and off she went.

The school nurse came to fetch me to explain the sick policy and point out the vaccine Child F. still needs before September - this time I resisted mentioning our conclusions drawn from hours of research on vaccines, and just nodded that I understood. I could hear Child F. behind a screen talking to the teacher ... talking about how people die and there's blood and that sort of thing. I'm cringing inside, wanting to run in and smooth things over - but from what I can hear, the teacher is not too bothered.

The nurse is done explaining the school policies and she sends me back to the hallway to wait.
Half an hour later a kind woman appears asking for Child F.'s mom.
"That's me," I say.
"She's saying her last name is {our last name}, but her name tag says {her last name}," she said confused.
"Yeah, that's our last name, but it's not hers." The woman looks more confused. I turn my back to the other parents waiting in the hallway, for some privacy. "She's in foster care and her last name is {her last name}. I don't think {our last name} comes up that often, so that's interesting that she's picked it up." I feel proud that she's identifying with our family even though I logically know that's not what she's doing at all - it's just what she thinks her last name is because she's heard it recently.

A half hour later and one of the speech therapists is out in the hallway with me saying that Child F. is in the 50%ile. Really?!!? Speech was a big concern initially when she started preschool services. I'm giddy. That's a ton of progress! I'm thrilled! The speech therapist seems almost apologetic but I assure her that this is HUGE and explain the level of special ed services Child F. is currently receiving.

An hour later (yes, the screening took THAT long) the school psychologist is ready to go over the results. Child F. is in the 40-50%ile for many many things. She's super low on gross motor (I don't believe this for one second - I think she didn't understand what they were asking of her) and cognition (this is more believable). Again, the school professional seems a little apologetic.

But I'm thrilled. I'm so excited for all of the gains that Child F. has made. I'm hopeful that she will not need services by the start of Kindergarten. I don't mind - if she needs services, she needs services. But it would be really exciting and encouraging if she made all the gains she needed to make up for the deficits resulting in the neglect she experienced in her early years.

So maybe she is smart. She may not know her ABC's or how to count to five, but she does know how to survive - something that was a much more important life skill in her younger years. And now, in a very short time, she's learned her colors and shapes and a bunch of cultural unspoken rules with a new family and is an avid learner interested in mastering her numbers and letters next. So from now on, I'm going to take a page from Child F.'s mom's book and believe wholeheartedly that our girl is smart. Look how far she's come and how enthusiastic she continues to be about learning! I'm so proud of her.

The Momma Bear has Arrived!

I said in Child F.'s letter that the Momma Bear would come out at some point, if needed. But when it came, I was surprised.

I arrived at the per-determined visit-location just about on time. I try to arrive a few minutes early in case the girls' parents are early, that way they get a few extra minutes. This motivates me and usually I manage to arrive on time as a result. When I'm a few minutes late at pickup, I tell myself it's okay because I'm giving the girls a few extra minutes with their parents.

So on this particular day I arrived a minute or so early. It doesn't really matter. The point is, I arrived just as mom did. Yay! She met me in the parking lot and asked if I needed help juggling the bags, 3 young girls, and Noah (he was in charge of holding the hands of the older two girls).
"Sure," I replied, not sure what to hand off to her. We have a system and sometimes it's hard to figure out how to allocate in a mildly stressful situation (anticipating leaving the kids, dodging not-the-best-drivers in the parking lot, running through the list of last minute info I should mention such as last diaper changes and reminder that the toddler isn't fully potty trained). The older two are bopping around, excited to see their mom, but also remembering to keep their hands in Noah's.
"Can I have the baby?" she asks.
"Sure," I say. Who's going to say 'no'? As soon as Baby E. is out of my arms I cringe internally expecting the baby to protest.
She has a one-track mind - and it goes something like: "I want momma, I want momma, I want momma" - and sadly her definition of "momma" is not mine or her first mom's either. It's something she's decided on and her favorite place is in my arms.

But she's content to sit in her mom's arms. Phew. She did have a 3 hour nap, unlike most visit-days when we just don't have time to fit in the nap(s) she needs.
I'm excited along with relief. We make our way in to the building and Noah's anxious to leave. We have an epic library visit planned.
"Hold on," I say, feeling impatient with Noah. I'm having to remind myself that I can't just walk away from a mom with her kids. She's not allowed to be alone with the kids. I have to call the foster care unit and let them know we're here.
By the time I hang up, Baby E. has decided she is done with this, and is reaching for me. She's starting to cry. "Momma, momma!" she says.
"I'm going to cry," her mom says, and I feel myself getting hot under the collar. I nod sympathetically feeling increasingly uncomfortable but not raising my arms to rescue the baby who is increasingly getting upset. "I'm your momma!" her mom explains to her kindly. "She gets you all the time, I get you right now," she explains to her baby.
Meanwhile the older two are grabbing at their mom, starting to take their coats off, frantic to tell her the million things they've been holding on to - just to share with her when they finally see her again.
The baby is crying and reaching and "momma"-ing still.
Noah is still begging to leave.

Finally the appropriate staff member emerges, and I make a hasty escape.
And then realize I'm still holding a bag and make a quick re-entry to pass the bag off lightening-fast before retreating again, never giving last minute instructions.

I left shaking. It's not about the mom! It's about a baby who wanted comfort from the "momma" she's living with every day. We need to do what's best for our kids, and put ourselves behind their needs. Because if we don't meet those needs, who will? The kids can't. They can't. They are kids. They can't meet all of their needs without a grownups help. It would have been an easy fix to calm this baby. But this was a mom who chose her own needs over a baby's.

But did I do any different? Should I have ignored my social discomfort and my desire to let this mom parent as much as she is allowed (which is not a lot) and reached for this distressed baby?




Part of training is a lesson in parenting kids 100% - just as you would parent a child you birthed. But I would never leave a child I birthed in anyone else's arms as I stood there, looking on helplessly. But here's the thing: I didn't birth this baby, and it isn't the same. I find myself in situations, needing to do uncomfortable things, explaining impossible scenarios - all because of fostering, nothing to do with parenting. Everyone says what we do is in the kids' best interest. But that's not true. Our first priority is the kids' parents. We don't consider the damage of multiple moves, visits, changes - or at least we don't let that influence our decisions around these kids lives to the extent these effect the kids' lives. We consider how best to help parents - we set up services, visits, appointments that we implore parents to participate in. We give parents time and resources to meet their goals. We move children home and hold our breath, hoping that that time, those resources, that service, etc will be enough of a foundation to support this family - a family that admittedly faces challenges many of us can only imagine. We do all we can to make parents comfortable. Kids so often seem an afterthought.
But that's the best we can do. Kids need parents who can keep them safe. And the best we know how to do is support parents to keep kids safe. So we encourage parents to parent by not taking that baby back who is reaching for the "momma" that they know day-in-and-day-out. We pass off the children we're raising to strangers-to-us in a place we'd never bring our kids in the normal course of life. We hold our breath and hope for the best. And we tell ourselves that this makes a difference. Even when sometimes it feels like it doesn't.

Thoughts on family day-long unsupervised visits

Child D., Baby E., and Child F.'s paternal aunt is interested in adopting the girls should there be a need. She initially petitioned for custody when the girls came in to care but the judge denied her request.

Two months later she requested unsupervised visits. DSS agreed to up to 2 days a month, reasoning that with Child F.'s busy schedule, they didn't want Child F. with hectic weekends too. The agreement came through on a Wednesday and the aunt requested the girls that weekend. This brought up all kinds of mixed feelings. I felt very protective and worried. What if she fed them fast food? What if she fed them lots of sugary foods - or fed the baby ANY sugary food? What if their car seats weren't safely installed? What if the baby wasn't changed enough? What if Child D. forgot about using the potty? What if there was someone else in the home who wasn't safe for the girls? What if the girls were confused about what this all meant? What if they were scared?
But a lot of self talk: all that needs to happen is the girls come back alive. Their aunt loves them very much and will do the best she can for them. If they get junk food, if they miss naps, if their car seats are loose, if Child D. has accidents, if they are scared ... we just live with it. It's out of my control and it's not my choice. I don't get a say in the diets of kids that aren't in my house in the present - even if it's just a day or an hour away - I don't get to say.
Deep breath.
I started to feel relieved. Happy even. This was the first time in months that I would have time away from the intense needs of small children. Months. With Del and Noah, they were having overnights with my parents starting around 2yrs old. So the older two would have been with grandparents every 6 weeks or so. That's the natural-unplanned-pattern we have with Ren Man's parents - they have the older two kids for the weekend every 6 weeks or so. I started re-framing this as a positive thing. I really want the girls to be as involved with their first family as much as possible and here is an aunt dedicated enough to go through a court process to get time with the girls. And I get some breathing room.

And then the caseworker called back to say that the aunt had a prior engagement after all and couldn't take the girls that weekend.

Okay.
So remember all the reasons I was worried. Focus on those anxieties and see it as a positive that the girls are staying home for the weekend.

A month later and the aunt is back in contact with the caseworker asking for a day long visit - we drop them off at 10am and they bring them back at 8pm. So back to remembering the positive.

And it's true. They survived. Baby E. was super sad, but that wasn't surprising. Yes, the car seats were too loose, but the aunt was open to hearing the suggestion of taking them to a car seat installation specialist. Child F. rolled with the long day and transitioned home well, but increased her requests to go to her mom's house. This is fair. You get to go to your aunt's for the day, why not mom's? We talk about the judge and the rules he's made that we have to follow even if we really want to go to mom's. And Child D. was devastated to leave her aunt. I'm sure being woken from a cozy warm vehicle and moved to a chilly van that you know will bring you back away from your original family is devastating no matter what. She sobbed and screamed and cried. And my heart broke for her. I scooped her up to bring her to bed, with a break at the bathroom first. She clung passionately to my neck. So she's full of mixed up feelings too.

A Day in the Life :: Tuesday

Crazy. I know. To do another Day in the Life - but a blog reader who has been reading for years and commenting/messaging in response frequently - it seemed fair. She asked for a busier day (because she apparently likes to torture me? That's the only reasonable explanation ;) ). So this was a more "average" day, but not the busiest (don't ask for the busiest - seriously!). The busiest just involves me doing all the farm work as well as all the parenting - this is what Sundays and Mondays are like because Ren Man is gone 12 hours on each of those days, at an off-farm job.
Ren Man has been doing all morning chores. The deal was that I would do one morning a week when we switched to early in the morning. We made the switch because it was too hard for me to do morning chores and get Child F. to school on time and care for the younger two - particularly in the c-o-l-d! But I've done very few morning chores and when I do I'm very grouchy. Because A) I'm not a morning person. B) I value sleep greatly - particularly morning-sleeping-in sleep. C) The younger two - Child D. in particular (yep, not the baby) have often had me up night after night after night - multiple times a night!
But Ren Man suggested moving milking to the afternoon because he's exhausted. Not only is he working 2-10 hour days with a 1 hour commute one way - he's also taken on a TTH class at the local college. This means he's often up the night before class until 1am prepping. And then up at 5:30 for farm chores. Plus, he caught this vicious cold that Child F. kindly brought home from school (you know, to share) and then got over said cold much quicker than anyone else in the family.
Milking in the afternoon would be fine. Except ... cows do best when milked in the morning AND it would mean one afternoon a week (two, if you count Sunday) I would be responsible for milking AND kids at the same time. Milking adds a good hour to chores. Ren Man suggested we get a sitter for a couple of hours on that one day a week.
I suggested I get up and do morning chores more regularly.
So Monday I got up with a spring in my step (kids have been consistently sleeping through the night! In fact, I'd had more than one morning where I'd woken before Ren Man for one reason or another and then couldn't.fall.back.asleep!). Ren Man starts chores half an hour later than I do because he's faster and I really don't need the stress of trying to hurry - it never goes well.
I insisted on also doing Tuesday morning chores. I was not so springy! But here is that day:


What time should I start?
At 1am I brought Child D. to the potty. At 2am she fell out of bed (I tried having no guard rail - this was her second night - apparently she still needs the guard rail. Good news: she called "Mommy! Mommy!" - normally she just makes noises in the night, so I was glad she used words). 3am Child D. calls out - she wants water - wait until morning baby, girl. 4am and Child D. is requesting a book to look at in bed - in the morning sweet thing, go to sleep. 5am - alarm off, time for chores.
Start a prewash for wipes and dipes.
Stoke the fire.
Stall a little, trying to wait for the prewash to finish so I can start the BIG MAMMOTH MOTHERLOAD SANITIZE cycle.
One minute left of the prewash.
Here the shower running upstairs.
Oh yeah.
People (my parents) will be showering - they probably wouldn't appreciate the BIG MAMMOTH MOTHERLOAD SANITIZE cycle using all of the hot water. So stalling for nothing. Oh well.
Outside to the "green room" to fill a bucket with hot water to use in the barn to thaw the rabbit waters.



The water is slow in coming (low water pressure? slow pump?) and while the bucket fills I get on a snowsuit, cowl, two hats, boots, snowpants, and mittens. I also put together the milk can. I rest the iodine - used to clean the cows teats - over the lip of the bucket to keep it from freezing.
Bucket filled, milk can assembled, boots on, ready to go.



I carried the milker out in to the dark, the claw ends whacking my knees in time with my step. I see why bad knees could happen. There must be a more comfortable way to carry this 15lbs, but I'm too cold and almost-there to stop. It's dark outside so early in the morning.



The cows all get a small scoop of grain during milking - it's like a scoop of m&m's ... and they are waiting. This is Shadow - first to be milked. She's mooing at me. I immediately take off my mitten-gloves, they'll only get in the way. They are from college and wonderfully warm ... except for the two places the dog chewed through when she was a puppy. I need to get a new pair, I think. This winter has been exceptionally cold.




I hook up the milk can to the milk pump and put the grain dish (a refrigerator drawer in a past life) back up on the step in front of where the cows are milked. I notice the chain - a thin, inadequate dog leash that we've been using to "tie" the cows when being milked - is still broken, it came undone yesterday. I decide to improvise a tie with some baler twine. I let Shadow go with some difficulty. The hooks aren't easy to unhook and she's headbutting me and lunging away, expecting to already be released. Finally she's out and bolting with enthusiasm for the grain. I rub her teats down, a let out a spray or two before dipping each with iodine. The time it takes me to walk across the width of the barn to replace the iodine on the lip of the hot water bucket is enough time for the iodine to do it's cleaning. I grab a paper towel and wipe Shadow down, being sure to give an extra wipe to the ends of her teats and inspecting to make sure all visible signs of muck is removed. The pump is turned on, the milking claw is attached to her full udder (not without frustration as the suction is not excellent at first). I listen carefully for the click and hiss of the milker. When I hear it, I sigh with relief. It's not SO cold that I have to fire up the flame-throwing heater. It's not been working for me lately and it's cumbersome.

I have a few minutes but don't want to move far, in case one of the quarters empties out and the claw starts to pull away from the teat. If it falls off, it's left hanging onto the ground, still sucking - and it's not sucking in milk any more, that's for sure. So I need to stay nearby but have a few minutes. I fill a 5 gallon bucket and top off Shadow's water bucket, noticing that the ice has crept even higher in the bucket. I then start scooping poop in to the tractor bucket. This is our cleaning method. We scoop the gutter behind the three cows in the morning and ever 4 days or so, Ren Man fires up the tractor and dumps the poop on an ever growing pile. It's rather huge right now - but it keeps growing. On Tuesday, the tractor bucket was nearly full and I knew I couldn't fit all of the poop in the gutter in to the bucket. But I worked on Shadow's section while she was milked. And then threw wood shavings as new bedding. There's a lot of hay under her in her stall, but always places where the cows need additional bedding.

The bag was kicked over in enthusiasm by one of the cows yesterday (but let's not talk about the cows shenanigans around the barn yesterday!) so there's a hole in the wide part of the bag ... and apparently the bedding is super comfy for a certain cat.



Shadow finishes milking, and Facet, and finally Dana. There's some confusion about who goes where and jostling for this spot in the line up or that. I fill the big cow water bucket that Facet and Dana share and put new hay down for all. I go and grab the rabbit water bottles and put them in the warm water to thaw. I finish out milking Dana and look down her side to see her face.




I move the milk can to the door and play the game at psyching myself out for carrying it to the house. With the can weighing 15lbs and each gallon of milk weighing 8lbs - there's 47lbs to carry in one hand. I start by filling a bucket halfway with water and go out of the barn and up a slight hill to the chicken coop - but really the duck/turkey coop. They turkey's have found their voices and the tom is yelling and scolding as I approach. I enter and the birds all move to the far corner - all except the Bourbon Red (I think "Rosie" might be a good name for her). She's used to us, I suppose. I fill their water trough - a shallow black rubbermaid container that sports a frozen waterfall around its apron. I check food. There's still plenty. And peak for eggs - there's one. I grab it and head out of the door, being sure to turn the latch to lock it.



Back in the barn, it's time to take care of the chicks, rabbits and pregnant sow. I bring the thawed rabbit water in to the rabbits and I get the chicks empty water container. We rely on physics to keep a constant flow of water for the chicks, and that container is empty. I bring it to the spigot in the "cow barn" and fill it, resting the precarious costco-pretzel-container on my hip and carrying a 1/2 filled water bucket in the other hand I head back for the "inner barn". It takes some doing to unlatch the make-shift lock on the outside, but it's a hook and eye lock to close myself in to the inner barn. I put down the 5 gallon bucket and move to the chicks to do the water-flip process. The cower in the corner dramatically. I grab the metal tray on put it on top of the water container like a cover. Then flip the whole thing over. I've done this dozens of times perfectly. This time, the tray isn't held in place tight enough and 3/4 of the water rushes out over me and in to the corner of their pen. Wha-what? I give them what is left and tell myself to come back before afternoon chores to give them more.

And then it's Toppy's turn. I notice that she dives in to her food first, instead of her usual water-first routine. Huh. Well, that's more like a pig.



Back at the barn door and the sun is starting to rise.









I do one trip down the small hill to the house with a heavy milk can. I feel the -tendons? bones? muscles? - strain and stretch under the weight of the milk can. In the "not garage", I deposit the full can and grab two five gallon buckets and start filling them with hot water. I'd noticed the day before that the pigs/sheep/calf/laying chickens water trough was close to empty - if you didn't count the thick wall of ice surrounding the perimeter of the container, despite the water heater lodged in the ice. (These animals are not in the same pen, the mammals share a wall and the water trough is sitting on the ground between the two pens. The birds can go where they please, she get the water out of either side.). Armed with two five gallon buckets, I haul the hot water up to the "horse barn" (we don't have horses, just to be clear) and put the water right inside the door. The dogs are waiting. Excited at the prospect of stolen eggs. I keep the dogs out. There is one more bale of hay waiting inside the door. I grab this and bring it to the sheep/calf gate. The pigs are grunting enthusiastically - expecting their grain. I break open the hay bale and throw half a bale over the gate as far from it, into the pen as possible. I do this in one throw. I always marvel at the strength I've gained farming over the last few years. In the beginning, I couldn't open a bale without a knife. Now I can bounce a bale free of its twine.

While the calves and sheep are occupied with their hay, I open their gate and bring in the heavy 5 gallon buckets. The hay-eating-animals ignore me as I dump the water. I immediately hear the ice start to give, but see no movement of the ice. The pigs are slurping on the other side of the solid-walled-divide. Out of the sheep/calf pen and I take a peek at the hens usual nest area. There is a line and only one recently laid egg, so I leave them be. I'll get them later.

Back to the not garage and I'm filling one of those five gallon buckets with feed for the pigs in the horse barn. Back in the horse barn, the pigs are happy. I head over to the "tool room" - also part of the barn and doesn't actually hold many tools. That's where the dogs are fed, and they are ready!
Dogs fed, I'm back in the "cow barn" and grabbing my gloves, the empty "hot water" bucket, and the teat dip.

Those get put back in the not-garage and I fill a 5 gallon bucket with yet more pig grain and head for the outside feeder-pigs.

The beef cows are waiting in the distance.



Out in to the pasture and the cows are waiting patiently.









And then it's time for washing up the milking machine.





And chores are done. Open the back door and see the usual morning scene - kids in front of the fire, some dressed, some not. But usually I'm part of this scene. It's cool to see it from the outside in.

Child D. comes downstairs - she's just woken up and has rosy cheeks and a warm snuggle.



Ren Man is teaching a class today so he drops Child F. off on the way to school and picks her up on the way home. So we wave bye to Child F.



And then it clicks with Child D. what's happening and she rushes at Daddy for a hug.





Time to get the younger two kids dressed. In case you're keeping track: it's 7:54am.



Child D. moves away from the getting-dressed-spot and she has picked up a book, taking a getting-dressed-reading-break. I'm so excited that nightly reading has fed the interest in books. When she first came, she could not sit through an entire story. And now she's hanging out, looking at books.



And this is my life, all.the.time. And recently she's started pushing anyone away who dares to sit on my lap. Or she'll pull your hair. Anything to get you away.from.the.mommy.



I wander away to switch out of barn clothes and in to regular clothes. I'm ready for the day.



And look at that! Child D. is dressed and follows Del downstairs for the promised breakfast. We're always excited about food around here! We also feel the need to bring a random ziploc of summer clothes left over from a previous kid's spare-daycare-clothes.



The baby sees a banana and Child D. is distracted by scissors. So breakfast is delayed. (I did not realize this chair, that Baby E. is on, was so tastefully decorated with fingerpainted-yogurt before seeing this picture on the computer ;) )



We are a very happy baby with yummy banana chin and cheeks.



Del is reading:



Noah is playing video games (he's been told he needs to do X amount of workbook pages, clean up X amount of toys from the floor, and empty the dishwasher. This might also have been the day he needed to take a shower first - that was the day he was up at 6:38am to fit in a shower early to maximize video game playing time):



and it's time for this momma to grab some breakfast ... a breakfast that I believe was referred to as "cake" the night before. I'm not anti-eating-cake-for-breakfast.



Child D. is chowing down some bananas and yogurt:



My stellar breakfast has reminded me that granola-making is in order. We order many dry goods in bulk and then store them in food-grade five gallon buckets. I wish we had a pantry. But we don't. I think we could - we have a near-the-kitchen-under-the-stairs-closet ... but that's a project I haven't tackled yet. So for now, we have towers of 5-gallon buckets which also double as step stools. So the oats bucket is almost out (don't worry, another 50lb back awaits).



The ingredients for the granola all laid out (except imagine 3 more cups of oats).



There's a fair amount of running back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room. The baby is fussy. The toddler is done with her yogurt. The baby wants up, no down, no up. The toddler wants in to the older kid's business. And then there's a "MOM!" from the living room. Del has enlisted Noah to help her find her workbook and she wants my help too. Child F. organized the homeschool shelf last night and now everything is in unexpected places (ie on the shelf and not on the floor) and Del can't work in this environment!



The workbook is found and the baby is on my back as I finish up the granola.



Granola is ready for baking - 30 minutes, stirring every 10.



While that's cooking, some dishes need some putting away and other dishes need cleaning. It's 9:03am.



Child D. reorganizes the lazy susan while I wash dishes. At some point in here I got that mammoth laundry cycle going.



And I used the last of our 5-minute-a-day bread dough last night - to clear out that super-salty-tried-to-fix-failure batch of bread dough. So I start a new batch. But I get distracted and put in too much yeast and salt. Argh. So I need to double my flour. But the bowl isn't big enough.



So I find the bowl Ren Man uses when he makes bread for farmer's market. It's too big, but it works.



The granola is done and I pull it out to cool on the oven.
The younger two are entertaining themselves by flipping through books.



I think it's time for a coffee:



Finished up Child F.'s Valentine's Day cards. She won't be in school for this - she has a dentist appt - but she still needs to have cards for the other kids, right? So I made these. No mommy award here - I didn't include Child F. in any part of the Valentine making.



The granola is cooled and ready to be jarred:



11:04, start lunch for the younger two and then check emails and work on a note to the girls' parents. I write one most weeks for them to tell them what the girls have been up to. This week The Lego Movie and a visit with Grandma was the big news.



The younger two are both napping by noon and I need to go back out to the chicks to replenish their water. I switch laundry before heading out.



Toppy, the sow, is carefully picking up a piece of stray baler twine in her mouth and mouthing it for a few minutes before depositing it in a mound near a wall in her pen. Interesting. I bet she's soon! And weird that there is a piece of baler twine in there.

Back in the kitchen and Noah and Del are re-writing their lists. Yesterday they wrote out lists for Birthday and Christmas wishes. Normally I would have cringed and discouraged this want-want stuff. BUT - handwriting! Go for it. In Noah's haste to write his list he had many many sloppy misspellings (like spelling "Noah" without an /h/). I explained that it would be really hard for people to read his list if he didn't write more carefully. I explained that he did just what good writers do - he wrote his thoughts down quick without worrying about spelling or looks - but now he needed to go back and re-write it so others could also read it. So a re-write was deep in progress when I came in to the kitchen - the top half of the paper was for Noah, the bottom half for Del.



Del is working on a "tornado" while waiting for her turn to add to the list.



And then it's done and on the fridge.



More laundry to do.



The younger two are still sleeping. If they sleep past the half hour mark - I will have time to shower!! It's a little like being on vacation. The plan is to swim the next day, so it's a mega-shaving-shower.



I'm out and loitering in the hallway outside of our room, checking facebook and debating how to get dressed. The baby is asleep on our bed, and I really really don't want to wake her up early. I'm reading, and facebooking ... and then I hear a baby crying. But it doesn't sound like it's coming from our room. That's weird. I go and open the bedroom door slowly. She's not there! Oh no! She's already woken up!! I speedy quick get dressed.



I find Del downstairs, giving Baby E. a bottle. She heard her wake up and went and got her and when Baby E. was still sad, she gave her a bottle.



"I think she wants you," Del says.
Yeah, me too.



Wait, something isn't right with this diaper. I'm getting wet as I hold you. Let's double check this:



Oops. It happens.
I made crepe batter last night but ended up just making eggs, bacon, and having bread for dinner instead of going whole-hog and doing crepes. So I should use the batter.



I find a recipe for a sort of crepe casserole. And here comes a Child D. flying in to my arms, happy to be awake!



I fire up the crepe maker and run out to the cooler to get some soft cheese. I mix in basil and the last little bit of mozzarella we have. The front door opens. It's 2:21pm and Ren Man is home with Child F.



I'm working on dinner and Ren Man is working on getting outside to do chores. The kids are acting crazy and I insist all of them suit up and get outside. The older three are gone in a flash, Child D. needs some help getting in to her gear. So Ren Man helps Child D.



and I keep working on dinner.



Oh! And the dog needs flea treatment desperately. She's about 2 weeks away from having puppies and we've researched and found that advantage works as flea treatment safe for pregnant dogs. So I need to do that while I'm thinking of it - and the treatment came in today.



The casserole is put together. Child D. and Ren Man are out the door ... and Noah comes in the opposite door followed shortly by the Del and Child F.



Ren Man comes back in - "I hear squealing, the piglets are here!" he says to me quietly.
"Okay, I KNEW it!" I say and explain the nesting I'd seen.
He stands there expectantly.
"What?" I ask.
"I didn't know if you want to come out or anything?" he says.
"No, I've seen it before," I say. "The kids JUST came in and I have other stuff I need to do."
Noah starts piano practice, a hot-and-cold interest for all kids - mostly hot when another child has the piano.



Time to tackle dishes again and switch another load of laundry. Our friend arrives. She's here to quickly pick up her cell phone that she'd lost here during a recent playdate. I also hand her a bag of clothes for the 7mos old she just started fostering. I run out in the cold quick to take a peak at her newest addition. The kids are all sleepy and the ones she's fostering look satisfied and plump. It's cold! Back inside to those dishes.



Baby E. is asking where Daddy is. "Outside, doing chores," I tell her.



He happens to come back in. "Next time you think a pig is farrowing, let's be out there with her," he says.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Well, she farrowed 13, only 5 are still alive and I don't think they are going to last either (they didn't)," he explained. "At this scale, we need pigs to farrow 8-9 piglets at each farrowing and even then the piglets cost us about $200/piglet."
"Maybe we should go back to just getting feeder pigs then and not keeping breeding stock," I suggested. He shrugged and left, clearly upset. I was feeling extremely frustrated, guilty, angry - myself.
This is not the first batch of piglets we've lost this year - it's the third. None have been so large. The previous two litters were unexpected and we attributed their demise to inexperienced mothers. But this was Toppy's third litter of piglets - and potentially her largest.

A counter cleared of dinner prep does not mean a boring counter. The three girls climb up on to buckets to investigate recipes ... and the two year old dumps a healthy amount of salt all over the counter and the floor nearby.



I put dinner in the oven and hope Ren man will be back in by the time it's ready. I clear the table, pick up toys, finish up dishes, fold laundry. When dinner is ready, everyone is there. The kids excited, the parents disgruntled.



And then it's bedtime for the younger three. Usually the rule is: no videogames after dinner. But lately, Ren Man has not been encouraging that rule.



Upstairs, the girls teeth are brushed, pottying done, drinks drank, pj's on, and books chosen.



When everyone is snuggled cozy and asleep in their beds, it's time to get the older two. Del insists on flossing.


And then it's "An Elephant in the Garden" with the intention of also reading "Harry Potter". I tell Noah that we'll start with "Harry Potter" the following night. My throat is starting to hurt and I can barely keep my eyes open. He's agreeable to the reading-delay. I smile when I look over at the paintings the older two did yesterday - Noah a ninja, Del 6 kids all holding hands. We'll need to hang those up soon - in their room, as requested.



By 8:45 I have myself bed-ready and I'm reading just a few pages of "The Book Thief" (I can't get through it!) before my eyes are too heavy and I'm off to sleep.