Express Yourself

Since we were a little emotional over our recent disappointment, and also bored, I used my beloved new laminator (thanks sister!) to make a game for us to have some fun and also start some good Little-level chats about emotions and expressing ourselves. 
The Littles helped me think of different expressions we make when we feel different ways. 
We made a list, and wrote it on the back of two circles of paper. 
Then I laminated them and cut them out.  

The "game" is to use a dry-erase marker to draw the expressions on the list, and see how many you can do, and/or make up your own. 

"Sad" next

Happy

It really got them thinking about what we do to convey specific emotions, and how we communicate so much with such seemingly minor actions as moving eyebrows.

Surprised!

 It got us into talking about what we do when we feel certain ways, and why. 

Sleepy

Sad (with tears)

And we had fits of laughter making funny faces- both in marker and in person!

Angry!

With a couple mini-dry-erase markers, I think it would make a good travel/waiting in line game, too. 
Thought I'd share in case you'd like to try it!
Maybe it will make you

Happy!

 too. 

Yes, We Have No Bananas

We spent the weekend getting ready for our new banana. 
We rearranged furniture and car seats, put together the new bed.  We did a few things we'd been meaning to, that we knew we wouldn't be able to while Banana was here. 
We camped in the backyard

Complete with S'mores, of course!

We went to our very first theater movie.

Dressed For The Red Carpet

It was a fun theater here which also serves dinner, so we had dinner and a movie.  Fancy.  We saw Planes, which Little Miss enjoyed, and which was only a little too scary for Her big sister. 
We had lots of talks about how this would be a special banana, and the Littles were wonderful about understanding, accepting, and brainstorming ways for our family to make accommodating changes to make Banana feel at home. 
They spent the entire day before the arrival getting ready.  They'd heard blocks were a favorite toy, and so they took each and every one of 4 sets of blocks and polished them with damp cloths.  To make them "super clean and shiny".  They chose the favorite set to keep in Bananas room.  They went through all their toys, picking out the ones they thought Banana would like best, polishing them up, and setting them out to be easily discovered.  They planned games like:
"How about we build up a big tower, and then let Banana smash it! Then we can do it again!" They went through the car carefully cleaning up stray leaves and paper bits and and washing the windows and dash.  They drew some Welcome! pictures.  They saw me off excitedly. 
I went to the meeting to pick up Banana.  I was there, discussing particulars with parents, previous foster-parents, social workers.  Part way through, I was pulled aside. 
The placement had been cancelled.  Just then, that minute. 
In the end, I agree it was the best decision for Banana, for various reasons, which is what matters most.  But I felt an odd combination of relief and disappointment.  And.  I had to go home and face the Littles. 
Little One rushed me at the door, all lit up.  There was a moment of dead silence. 
..."where's Banana?" 
When I told Her She melted into Her father's lap and didn't speak to me for a few minutes.  I broke the news to Miss.  She glared and shook Her head vehemently.  "Not ok! I want my new friend! I am SAD!" There was some moping around. 
I am not a mom that changes plans on my daughters at the last minute if I can help it.  Infamous throughout my youth for being the one who was eternally late for everything, I have come to have a strong disdain for flakiness, and have myself become a lot more dependable, at least when there are children involved.  Because I hate to teach my daughters that I can't be trusted.  Because I hate to teach them that because they are little their feelings don't matter.  Because I hate to see them dejected.
So I often don't tell my kids about play dates or plans with friends- especially if I know they can be flaky- until the last minute, when I'm sure it won't fall through. I'd rather surprise them than get them excited and let them down.
But in the case of life-altering changes, like adding a person to the family for awhile, it's important to give them some time to ask questions and get used to the idea.  So, since this foster care business is anything BUT dependable, what's the answer?  I'd love some advice from the Peanut Gallery on this one. 
In the meantime I guess I will just hope that it's character-building to learn to be flexible and live with disappointment sometimes.  But I sure wish I had done something differently, to make it easier.  I guess we are all learning as we go, especially me. 

A Banana To Carry

Last week I was talking to a good friend.  I told her I was having trouble deciding whether to take in the most recent banana we were called about. This one has some significant special needs and would be with us longer than usual, during a time J will not be able to help me much. It seemed like a lot to take on.
We talked about foster care in general, and she asked me if it is hard to hear the stories about how the kids ended up in care.  As a social worker, she said that there were times she almost wished for the blissful ignorance she had before entering the field, because the stories can be so horrendous and hard to bear.  I know what she means. 
I remembered again that summer in New York. 
That was the summer that my ignorant bliss was really shattered. 
I was the nurse at a summer camp for kids from the foster care and shelter systems of inner city NYC.  The first night the kids arrived, they poured off the bus into the dining hall for dinner.  I was in the clinic, busily preparing for the intake exams that would begin after dessert.  I was excited and nervous.  I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't expect to get my first patient before dinner was even over.
I was called down to the hall for a boy that wasn't feeling well.  He was a skinny thing with a big head; he looked up at me with eyes so sad he reminded me a little of a basset hound.  He promptly threw up all over my shoes.
I got him back to the clinic, cleaned us up, and was just starting to try and figure out what was the matter with him, when another child walked in.  Another.  And they kept coming, all sick to their stomachs.
At first I thought- it's an epidemic! It's the spaghetti! Food poisoning!  But I stuck to my training and asked all the routine questions.  One of which is- what and when did you eat last?
I soon realized that they all had something in common, and it wasn't just the spaghetti.
It was that, before that dinner, it had been a long, long time since they had eaten anything.  Some of them couldn't even remember the last time they'd had a meal.
Then they had arrived at a table overflowing with pasta and salad and bread, and gorged themselves.  Their starved little bodies had been shocked and couldn't keep the food down.
It wasn't the only problem that night.
Not knowing or trusting there would be more coming from the kitchen when the pasta bowl ran out, fights broke out over noodles and garlic bread. That night I treated lacerations on little kids who had seriously tried to shank each other with plastic picnic wear.  I iced black eyes.  My office was a melee of children in various states of illness and injury; there was crying, groaning, shouting, cursing that made me do a double-take (did that seriously just come out of that little six year old?!)
That was before the intake exams.
Where I saw the three brothers who at first glance seemed to have a pox of some kind.  But no, they were covered head to toe in cigarette burns.  Where I tried to speak to glazed over stares and discovered children drugged with psychotropic medicines that came with them in unmarked bottles.  Where I noticed the healing scars on the girl who had been dipped in boiling water.  The untreated infections that had been ravaging little bodies for weeks, months, maybe years.  Where I heard the stories about far worse wounds, the kind I could not see.
That was just the first day.
I remember being ashamed by my ignorance; knowing that there was something wrong about the fact that I felt so surprised.  That I'd had no idea, really, that these things were happening here, right here, right in my own country/city/neighborhood.  These kids weren't on some Save The Children commercial, so far removed they might not be real.  They were living pain and poverty right here; just a few subways stops from fifth avenue. And there were so. many.
When I finished camp I was still a college student unsure of what my future would be, but I knew what I was looking for.  I wanted to look into the shadows, and see who else was there.  I wanted to learn about that reality, and be a part of it in some way.  I felt then that, sure, I couldn't change the world or Fix It.  But it seemed very, very important to at least acknowledge the truth.  To do all I could not to be so blissfully ignorant anymore.
I'm sure I still am, unaware of many things.  But I've been a few dark places since then.
It's true that there are times it has seemed like too much.  There have been things that have made it hard not to lose hope- hope for anything.  I've realized that a child's pain isn't something I can turn away from, forget, or get over.  It's something I just have to carry around.  But that's ok. It's a lighter burden than they carry, and yet they do.  Surely I can be strong enough to share just a little of it.
I told my friend that, yes, it is astounding, horrifying what happens.  So often and so close to home.  That the way I personally handle knowing about the nightmares that are out there is to be a part of them. I can't erase what's happened to these kids.  Or fix it.  But I can show them that they are not invisible. I can care.  I can always care. Foster care helps me carry what I know.
As I said it to my friend, I knew I had my answer.
I pick up our new banana on Tuesday.   

Gifts That Give Forever

Do you remember when I told you about this girl?
Today I have tears in my eyes.
There are times in life when I see or hear about things that human beings do to one another, and it's hard not to lose faith in people, in justice...in Everything.
But then there are days like today.
Thanks to the incredible, positive, loving spirits of friends and strangers from all over the world, a real-life happy ending was made possible today.
Today the fundraising goal for getting AFC's star student into college was met and exceeded.
I'm thrilled because I'm so happy for her, and because I know that this tiny seed of helping out one deserving girl will grow and blossom into a forest of goodness through the work that she will now be able to do in her life.
But to me this is also about so much more.
It shows that despite the label of "orphan" she has a family.  She has people who care, who see how much good she has done and how hard she has worked, and believe in her.
It shows that we can be that, for each other.  We can be a human family, and reach out to each other and lift each other up.  Even across great geographic and demographic divides. 
It shows that sometimes, the good guy does win.
That sometimes dreams do come true, sometimes miracles do happen.  
It shows that even though, as people, we all have the potential to do horrible, hateful things to one another- we also have the ability to act with great love and compassion. Today I have proof that there are so many people out there who choose the kind side of their soul to live by.
Although we are still raising funds for her, to make sure she will be able to get through all four years and finish her college education, there is now enough in the account to bring her to this side of the Atlantic and through her first year safely. 
So today I have a HUGE thank you to all of you who have helped give this everyday princess her happy ending.  And at the same time given me something precious to keep in my heart for days when I might need a little extra Faith, a little Hope if mine wears thin.
Thank You. 

**If you want to help, you can now donate directly to her fund by clicking this link.  Any funds that exceed the goal of funding her first year of college will go towards funding the next three years of school, and are hugely appreciated (and tax deductible). ** 

What We Do

Today we read a book about the different kinds of jobs people do.  At one point the book asked the reader about the jobs their family does.  Would you like to know what we Do? Here is what the Littles think:

What Does Your Daddy Do?

Little One: "He makes people feel better who are not feeling better.  But mostly he sits and does lots of papers and things.  And sometimes flies planes."

Little Miss:  "He goes on planes and boats.  And push me inna swing."


What Does Your Mommy Do?

Little One: "She cleans the house all day.  And sweeps the porch!  And tuck me in."

Little Miss: "Clean the house all day.  And cook stuffs.  Read some stories to me." 


And What Do You Do?

LIttle One: "I play and do works. I read some books, all these things. I grow." 

Little Miss: "I hug Mama.  And Play outside."


I have to say I seem to have been seriously demoted from what I was Doing a year ago. 

Apple --> Tree

Of all our relatives, Little One reminds me most of my Grandaddy.
Sadly, he is probably the source of Her horrible food allergies.
Happily, he is probably the source of Her wonderful talent for music.
They both tend to worry.  Because they both care so much about everyone.
And, personally, I think there's a bit of a resemblance.

What do you think?

A Well Groomed Little Fish

Miss has been through a spate of Firsts recently.
For instance, She decided one day that She is Too Big Girl for the booster seat, and is rocking the grown up chair at the dinner table! To the great distress of my floors.  Ahem.
But here are some more of Her new adventures:

First Haircut
Goodness were the three of us girls in some serious need of a spa day.  I was a mess all over, Little One's hair was starting to tempt fairy tale princes to climb it, and Missy?  Yikes.
I have such a terrible fondness for those little curls, Peanuts.  I could just not bear to chop them!  But we had a serious business in front, party in the back situation going on, and I finally had to give up.
So we had a girls day at the salon, and got collectively groomed and gussied up.
Little One went first and of course loved it.

Missy reluctantly followed, since Little One had survived, after all.

 

As long as I held one hand and Little One held the other, She braved the hair washing basin.

And (as long I held Her hand) She allowed the trimming to commence.

Afterward, admiring Her new 'do in the mirror, She finally smiled and declared,
"This great Mama! T'anks you, Lady, makin' me all GOH-geous now!" 

Which, of course, She is!

First Dentist Visit
Because of Her extreme wariness of strangers and new situations, I confess I was a bit concerned about how this would go.  But Little One went first (rocked it),

 

The hygienist was fantastic with the kids, and Miss did GREAT too!

 
She not only cooperated, but had fun. Now each night She flosses and brushes diligently, refusing to stop until She has scrubbed each and every pearly white. Then She flashes me a big grin and asks, "My teef all shiny Mommy? Lookin' shiny?" 

First Swimming Lessons
Actually Her first organized lessons of any kind, this summer Missy took swimming class with Her sister.  Little One is a veteran (and probably part fish) so She literally dove right in and swam Her heart out all summer.

Little Miss cried and screamed like the pool was full of boiling oil for the first week.
She cried on the way in, She cried the whole lesson through- while following instructions to the letter.  She did everything She was asked to do, She just wasn't happy about it.

But as She began to trust Her (excellent) teacher, She gradually calmed down and was soon having fun, looking forward to lessons, and full of pride in Her new skills.

She started the summer not wanting to put a blessed toe into the water, and now can do all sorts of swimmy things. Which She practices nightly in the bathtub.

I love that Her sister gives Her so much comfort and encouragement. I love that holding my hand is still magical, like kisses for owies.  I love that while She is cautious, or even afraid, She still goes forward and tries Her best.  Isn't that the very definition of bravery?   As She goes on to so many more firsts, I hope She meets them all with such courage.
And remembers that we're always here with a hand, just in case.

Girl WIth a Curl

Look at this Missy.

My curly girl.

SO full of attitude, so full of sweetness.

She reminds me often of the old Mother Goose nursery rhyme that seems to have been written especially for Her.  Have you heard it?  It goes:

There was a little girl

And she had a little curl 

Right in the middle of her forehead

And when she was good, she was very, very good

And when she was bad, she was horrid.  

Our Little Miss is that Girl With A Curl.  She drives me crazy and She melts my heart. 
Here are some Isms to show you what I mean. 

 Horrid
On a road trip, Miss and I had to stop for a ladies room.  The gas station we found turned out to also be a bar.  (Because what is better than a place you can fill up your car, then fill up on booze and drive?!) It was small and crowded.  When we walked in, a toddler and a pregnant lady, everyone stopped and stared.  Miss uncharacteristically smiled, waved, and said, "Hi guys!"
The motley crew politely responded with partially-toothed grins and salutations.  Miss took that moment of full attention to announce: "EEEeeew! Somepin STINKY in here! This place not smelling nice.  Someone not cleaning the floor! And it's YUCKY!" 


C: "You can't wear those shoes, love, because they are too small.  They don't fit you now."
Miss: "I am NOT YOUR FRIEND!"

 
C: "Sorry, Miss, swimming is cancelled because of the lightning.  It isn't safe to swim in lightning."
Miss: "WHAT!? I no can swim?  I have on my bathing suit! Fine.  I am NOT YOUR FRIEND!"


C: "No, we can't have popsicles for dinner.  We have this yummy food for dinner."
 Miss: "Then...I'm...NOT YOUR FRIEND! I will eat NOTHING.  ALL. DAY."


C: "Will you please put that toy away so we can go to the park?"
Miss (sweetly): "I'm not your fri-end."



Miss goes under the table after lunch time.  She finds Her own mess.
Miss (gasping): "MOMMY!  It a mess unner here! You not cleaning up this floor.  You not do your good job.  Go time out now.  Then you can clean up your messy floor."

C: "Miss.  That is enough.  It's time to make your bed, right now."
Miss (sadly): "Ooohh....no. Oh, no-no-no.  Oh no.  I so saaad! Not going to make mine bed. Now, I have to go 'way, 'ever, and not have any Mommy.  Not have any more Mommies! and! (cue actual tears) I be so a-lone-ly!"

C: "Here we are!  Let's get out of the car and hurry in."
Miss: "No.  I am not getting out this car."
C: "Why not, Little Miss?"
Miss: "A'cause.  This is NOT a good parking spot."

Miss:  "Mommy.  Want a hug.  I hit your face!"
C: "Miss! That is NOT the way to get a hug from Mommy!"
Miss: "Oh! Sorry.  Please, can I have a nice hug?"
C: "Sure, sweetie.  That's much better."
(HUG)
Miss: "Thanks! Now, I HIT YOUR FACE!"

Very Very Good

Miss (Calling out from the bathroom): "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy come hee-ah!"
C: "Here I am! What is it, Missy?"
Miss: "Oh, Mommy.  Mommy, you clean this bathroom so nice! So nice and clean!  Thank you.  Thank you clean mine bathroom, all clean and shiny.  This makes me SO HAPPY!" 

Miss( at dinner): "Mommy! Thank you for all this yummy dinner for me!"
C: "You're so welcome! I'm glad you like it."
Miss: "Oh, yes.  It's deelishis. I lllllOVE your dinn-ahs!"

Miss: "Mommy?  Can you please push me in, in my chair?"
C: "Sure, Missy! Here you go."
Miss: "Oh, t'ank you Mama! You are a good grown up."

Miss(bounding through the house): "Boing boing boing! YAY! Boing boing boing! Yaay!"
C: "Wow, you sure are bouncy today!"
Miss: "YES! Pi-kus, I am SO HAPPY!"
C: "That's great! What are so so happy about today?"
Miss: "That I a little guhl and I hab a Mommy and! YOU! MY! MAMMMMA!! Boing boing boing!"

Miss: "Mommy?  You love me?"
C: "Yes! Of course I do!"
Miss: "Oh! Ok! That why you taking such good care for me! Right? For you love me? That why you give me dinner an' brefast, an' tuck me all in.  And give me kissies and huggies and snuggle me all up.  Thas why you clean up all the stuff and wash my bee-you-tee-ful dresses?  Why you read me a story from the lib-er-ar-ee? For you love me Mommy?"
C: "Yes, Missy. I take good care of you because I'm your mommy and I love you."
Miss: "Wow. You take good care me, Mommy.  You love me A LOT!" 

A Little Poem

The Littles Came with me to Mister's check-up.   Everything looked good, and we all loved hearing the tiny heartbeat.  The Littles were very polite to the nurse, who could just not get over the pair of them. 

Nurse: "They're not sisters, are they?"

C: "They are."

Nurse: "REAL sisters?! They can't be!" 

C: "... they're sisters."

Nurse (pointing at Miss, on my lap): "That one's the oldest, then?"

C: "No, She's the little sister.  She's two, Her sister is four."

Nurse (with drama): "FOUR!?!"

Little One: "Yep! Soon I'm gonna be five!"

Nurse: "Well.  I never.  I never seen.  Who could believe that child is four."
Then, conspiratorially- but still right in front of Little One- "Something wrong with Her?"

C: "...I'm sorry? No."

Nurse: "I mean, what's she got?  She's tiny.  Like, teeny tiny.  Is she even on the growth chart? Is she even close?  Can you believe she would be so small?! They are practically the same size! And the other one ain't big."

Little One is sitting two feet away, slowly munching an apple and listening very carefully.  Miss is on my lap, frowning deeply.  She has a feeling something about this exchange isn't quite right.  She looks at Her sister, at the nurse, at me.

C: "Well. We can't all be big and tall. Someone's got to hold down the other end of that chart. She is pretty small, that's true.  Don't let that fool you, though.  She's small, but fierce! Isn't that right, Little One?"

Little One grins, slyly.  She gives the nurse a cocky wink and a nod.

LO: "Yep.  That's me all right!" 

The nurse laughs. "I see it! You're a feisty one, huh?"

Little One (hand on a hip, still smiling): "You got that right!" And takes an emphatic crunch! on Her apple.

We all laughed and went on with the appointment.

It's true that Little One is little.  Truth be told, She hits the third percentile on that chart (after a big lunch, soaking wet).  She wears a size five shoe and is still comfy in most 2T clothing.  I'm not going to pretend She isn't smaller than most kids Her age.  But I'm not going to say there's anything wrong with Her, either.  There isn't.

Long hair, short stride

Small feet, wide eyes.

Grand in personality, diminutive in size. 

Just the way She is, She's just right. 

Restaurant For Good People

C: "Guess what guys? Tonight we get a special treat! Daddy is taking us all to a restaurant for dinner!"

Missy: "Yay! And we can have juice!"

C: "Um, no...I didn't say anything about juice."

Missy (in Her sweetest, most innocent voice, with Her sweetest, most innocent face): "But but, Mommy.  Juice a speshal tree- eeet. "

C: "Yes it is.  But today the restaurant IS the special treat."

Missy: "Thas a speshal treat?"

C: "yes!"

Miss: "...Is for good guhls?"

C: "Yes."

Miss: "Yay! A resharont for me a good guhl! ....Little One a good guhl too? She coming too?" 

C: "Yes, we are all going together."

Miss: "Yaaayy!  A reshront a resharont! We do a good job!"

Apparently treats are not as fun as rewards. 

Sternum

Little One walks in with a sour look on Her face.

C: "What's wrong love?"

LO: "Oh, Mommy.  I have a pain.  It hurts as much as five hurts!"

C: "I'm sorry. Where does it hurt?"

Little One points to the center of Her chest and traces Her finger over it with quick circles. 

"Right here.  In my stir-num!  I, I think maybe it is stirring too fast."

Phobias and Philias

**Be warned.  This story is graphic, and extremely gross. Read at your own risk, and preferably not while eating. ** 

We all have little pet peeves, right? Things that we just Can Not.  I have a friend who can't stand butterflies, one who's afraid of sea water.  There's all the usual stuff that freaks people out; heights and elevators and spiders and lions/tigers/bears.  Me?  I don't mind any of that stuff.  I'm not afraid of the dark.  I like flying and falling and public speaking.  I used to have a pet tarantula, for goodness sake.  His name was Terry!  
But, I have a thing about bathrooms. Even clean bathrooms kind of ick me out, and I can't stand dirty ones.  I Can Not.  In times of stress or chaos, the rest of my house might temporarily fall apart, but I scrub the bathrooms every week like it's a religion, and in my family you know that the Good Lord help you if you get fingerprints or toothpaste spittle on my mirrors.  Uh uh. 
Filthy bathrooms, especially public ones, give me some serious heebie-jeebies.  I mean, ick people.  Just eew.  Do you have anything that freaks you out like that? If you do, keep it in mind.  I'm telling you this so that you can understand the gravity, people, the serious seriousness, of what happened to me last week.
I took our two latest Bananas to visit their siblings, and when we left there was a lot of sadness.  They have been through a lot recently, and I really felt that they needed a familiar, comforting transitional place before taking them back to my house.  For these kids, that place is one they are accustomed to visiting frequently, but one my family does not go to.  So, though it wasn't my cup of tea, I took them to McDonalds.
I am not a McDonalds patron.  So maybe they are not all grimy and smelly, but this one was.  Nevertheless, the extreme joy of the Bananas convinced me to stay.  I ordered "For Here" so they could work off any extra anxiety in the "play place".  This, Peanuts, was not a wise decision.
Because I was already a little grossed out by the way my shoes stuck to the floor, and the slick oily finger smears shining in streaks up and down the faded yellow slide.  And then, 3-year-old Banana had to potty.  This is not a child who can hold it.  So in we went.
I'm not sure if she wasn't feeling well or if this is normal for her, but I tell you I stood in that nasty stall with the baby on my hip for- believe I timed this on my cell phone, Peanuts- over half an hour.  Half an hour in my most unfavorite place on earth.  While she pooed.  She kicked her clothes onto the floor.  She played with the toilet seat.  I am trying to be rational and pick my battles, and calmly ask her if she's ok, and is she done.  And now, is she done.  ......now?
She is singing and chatting and having a grand old time.  I am trying to breathe and remember how important it is to practice patience, even when I want to run screaming into a bathtub full of hand sanitizer.
Then the baby, who has a cold, sneezed.
"Bless you", I said, still keeping my eye on Three.  Then I felt a wiggle and heard a schlurrrmph from Baby, and looked to see that she had blown a thick, neon-green snot rocket, and smeared it with the back of her arm, ALL OVER her face.  She looked up.  Grinned at me.  And blew out her diaper.
Ok.  So three is still doing her business, and I step out of the stall, just long enough to wash Baby's face and arms in the scummy sink basin.  Before handling the diaper issue, I peek back in to check on Three in the stall.  She is leaning forward.  She is up to her elbows in the murky toilet water, splashing, singing, and wiping the stuff all up and down her front side.   Like paint.
 I did not scream.  People. I have seen broken bones sticking through skin, I have seen open heart surgery, I have held a piece of skull over an open brain and not blinked, but for this- can I tell you how proud I am of myself that I did not scream?! 
I didn't do it.  I took a deep breath.  A deep, stink-filled breath.  I spent the next 6 minutes exactly trying to get Three to please finish her business and to convince her to- no! no, no! Don't touch the- wait! Stop! Lets keep our hands on the seat. ON the seat, please, on the seat!
She looked at me like I was nuts. "But whyyyyy? I like to splashies!"
In the end, I had to bathe them both in the McDonalds sink as best I could.  And then go back out there.  To the play place.  And watch them finish eating.
We survived.  Somehow.  We got home and people, we all got baths and then the bath got a bath.  It might go down as one of the most appalling experiences of my life so far.  But I faced a fear and lived to tell the tale (aren't you all so lucky I did).
And later that night, tucking Banana into bed, she cried and shrieked and refused, and then jumped into my arms and held me so tight and hugged me for a long, long time.  I rocked her until her rigid body relaxed, I tucked her in, arms still around my neck, and she whispered, "I don't want to go home.  Can I stay here?  I want stay here with you. Can I stay tomorrow?"  
I remembered that I wasn't the only one facing fears that day.
I thought about what a gift it was, to be trusted by a child who had no reason whatever not to expect the worst of me.  How rarely in life we are given the benefit of the doubt like that.  I put her to sleep, knowing that she would wake in the night, as she does every night, screaming in terror.  And that I would go to her and, as if granted the magical superpower to keep demons at bay, be able to soothe her back to sleep with just two calm words and a hand on her back.  Amazing.
I guess foster care is a dirty job. But somebody's got to do it.  Lucky it should be me. 

Bananas Foster

So far, foster care seems to be rather like the dessert that shares it's name.  It's a bit like playing with fire; there is definitely a possibility of getting burned and ending up with a big, hot mess.  You must be a little crazy, bananas even, to get involved in something so sticky and easily flammable.  But, then again, it is extremely sweet.
We have two more little Bananas with us this week, a one and a three year old.  Doubling our number of children in an instant means scrambling over some learning curves pretty quick!  J and I are certainly getting a good sleepless-night bootcamp for when Mister joins us. And I'm fairly certain that in a just world all foster parents would be given a steam-cleaner upon certification.
But so far we have had the huge honor of getting to love and cuddle four seriously adorable babies, and the interaction between them and our Littles has been fun to witness.  Little One is like a happy mother hen, tucking each one under Her wing.  Missy is defending Her position as the Family Baby with a sword, some nunchucks, and a potato gun full of rabid piranhas.  But having a lovely time with our new friends, you know, other than that. 
I can't say there haven't been any messes made.  But J and I have always had a sweet tooth, and so far we haven't burned the house down. So I'd say it's going well overall. 

Geronimo

A lot of life is kind of wishy-washy.  Things get decided and undecided, dreamed up and then change-of-planned away, and generally made up as you go. Most of the time, when you say things like: "I will be a ballerina when I grow up!" or "now we are blood-brothers for life!" you mean it in an optimistic, yet flexible sort of way. Kind of like the washing-machine repairman when he says he will be there around lunch time.

But then again. There are times, in life, when we Mean It. There are even times when we make Solemn Vows.  Have you made some of those?  I have.
There was the time I stood in a garden with J and said "better or worse". Or when I saw a bit of bone in the red pit of Bernice's pressure sore and thought to myself, "this is the LAST one she will ever have." The times I looked at brand-new Littles in the moonlight and promised I would love them like crazy forever. Or the time I passed by a stranger in a mall, and said to my sister, "I solemnly swear I will never, never, never get a perm. Ever." There was another time.

Way in the middle of the forest in New York state, after the last one left my office for the day. What happened is that I remained utterly serene. I maintained complete integrity and composure. I gave a little chuckle and smiled, and I said, "see you again at four, then!" and waved and shut the door.

Then the air got all still and crackly. And I covered my mouth with my hands, and crumpled down on the floor by the trash bin with the rusty spots on it, and cried the kind of cry that is so hard that your back shakes but no sound comes out. Just lots and lots of tears; so many that they climb and roll over each other and make little splishes in the dust of the floor.

Just for a minute. Then I sat up and watched a little brown spider creeping under the window ledge. I thought about everything I had heard; I listened to it again in my mind. It was nobody in that room but the Big Guy upstairs, me, and the spider; but we all three know that right then I made a Solemn Vow.

Years later,  J and I were talking about taking our two ordinary little lives and maybe combining them, like vinegar and baking soda, to make one big bursting party of a future. We had a little talk about non-negotiables; the things we Had To do or have or be when we became our future selves, and the other person had to either be In, or Out.  I told him then about my Vow, this non-negotiable thing I had done in the witness of the Big Guy and the spider. And he said, of course, that he was In. It became his Vow too.

It has not been easy.  We have tried and had one obstacle or another fall like trees across our path.  But then, J's parents (his vow-granting, fairy-god-parents) came here for nine weeks.  Nine weeks of their lives, to help us make this happen.  With our Littles in their safe fairy-god-hands for several hours at a time every week, J and I went to a lot of meetings. A LOT.  We had our fingerprints taken and answered deluges of questions. We had our house and selves investigated to a point that stopped just short of picking through the strands of our hair for evidence of lice, or perhaps use of the wrong shampoo. And in the end, finally, we were deemed worthy of keeping our Vow.  We became foster parents.

It has been more than ten years since that moment in New York.  But our first two children came to us right after we got home from Canada. When they left only a week later, I thought how strange it was for my heart to feel so empty and full at the same time.  Already. The work of extra children is hard.  Loving someone and letting them go is hard. This won't be an easy thing.

And the Littles keep me hopping. J is busy, I am tired and pregnant and we are preparing for the arrival of the Little Mister.  It's terrible timing to do this.  Picking up a special-needs two year old and a newborn the day after returning from a cross-country trip, with a 12 year old in tow and more guests arriving the next day is seriously terrible timing.  We did it anyway.

Because we are crazy, Peanuts. We are.  But also, there is not ever, ever, Ever an easy way or a convenient time to take your life, shake it up, and turn it upside-down.  There is never a safe angle from which to jump from a cliff and see what happens.  Which means that waiting for the right time and place can mean waiting until the promises we make to ourselves pass us by.

So for the wishy-washy stuff, maybe it's not worth it for the mess it makes.  But for the Solemn Vows? For when we Mean It?  Sometimes we have to climb whatever rocky crags it takes to get there, even if it takes ten years.  And then at the pinnacle, when it's either jump or retreat, just hold on tight to our climbing partners.  And.... Jump!

Wishes

I was 19 when my littlest sister was born.  I drove like a demon through the night and arrived just after she did, all tiny and wrinkled and pink.  It was instant love.  I remember a night, later, when she was still a teeny newborn.  I was visiting at my dad's house and she woke up crying late at night.  Her mother was either too exhausted to stop me, or kind enough to let me (or both), but when I slipped into her nursery and picked her up, no one came to meet me in the hall and take her from me.
And so I walked with her up and down the hall, up and down the hall.  Rocking her and singing to her, songs I had memorized in my dorm room just for her.  I snuggled her and cradled her, and we looked at each other in the moonlight.  Searching for signs, clues about who each other might be, how we fit together.
I remember that night feeling so happy for her existence in the world, in my world especially, so thrilled that there was this extremely adorable person that I was tied to by family forever.  And at the same time, terribly sad.  It was almost a crushing feeling, loving her so much already, wanting to miss not a single giggle or cry, and knowing that I would.  I would miss it. 
Being so far away, being already grown and off on my own path, I would miss most of it.  I would never have the kind of sisterhood with her that I had shared with my first sister, just two years younger, who I lived with and shared most of my memories and fights and secrets with. 
As she's grown, it has always been my fear that she would drift further and further from me, until one day I might lose her completely.  As she rounds the corner from an accepting, innocent child to a questioning, opinionated teenager, I have waited with trepidation for the days she might no longer open my birthday cards.  I can't tell you how often and how hard I have wished that her heart would swing the other way, and that we could grow closer as she ages rather than apart.
That's why, when I stood in the airport this summer, waiting to see her ponytail bobbing down the corridor, I had to seriously control myself not to do an actual happy dance in public.  She came, by herself, to stay with us for half the month.  She came with us on a big, winding road trip, she played with Littles and stayed up chatting with me.  Filling me in on some of those things I have hated missing.  Nothing can make up for not being around, day to day, all the time.  But that she wanted to be here, that her mom let her come, and that we got to be together so much was a dream come true!  That she has turned out to be super, super awesome is like icing on the cake.

On top of it all,  our family road trip happened to be to a place that I have wanted to go for as long as I can remember!  Why?  I don't really know.  Maybe it's all those people who have risked or given their lives for the ultimate experience of it.  Maybe it's the majestic photographs, or the old-time romance of it.  But I have always wanted to see Niagara Falls. 

So when J got some time off and we decided to opt for a road trip this year, I pretty-pleased my way into the Canadian destination.  We did all the hokey touristy things, as well as exploring the less commercial aspects, and people I don't care how hokey it was, it was awesome! 

In my own humble opinion, yes it was as majestic and amazing and romantic as all that.  I loved every second!  Having J and the littles and my baby sister along made the trip better than I could have hoped for, and one I will never forget.  We had a fantastic time!

Spending lots of time with baby sister and going on a Niagara Falls adventure were great wishes-come-true.  After all, much as I can get into ballgowns and fancy shoes, this is even more my style:

And it's a good thing my family and I like to take adventures together.  Because the night we got home, we found out that there was another wish-come-true waiting for us with an adventure. 
But that's another story. 

Mopping In Glass Slippers

There are things, obviously, I can't like about the Cinderella fairy tale.
I just can't, as a self-respecting modern gal, get into swooning over the idea that the be-all-end-all goal in life is to get rescued and married off to a prince.  I mean, please.  It's pretty easy to laugh off that antiquated tale with some good eye rolling. Save yourselves, ladies! (Littles? Are you listening?)
But... we all kind of love it, don't we?  This little story has persisted and pervaded culture for a good long while. Even as I roll my eyes I have to admit... I kind of like the story.
After all, here we have a gal who is not afraid to get her hands dirty.  A heroine who has one heck of a work ethic.  Who manages to get through the daily drudgeries of her life, dealing with a you-know-what of a boss, and still go about it all cheerfully. 
And, when the opportunity for an adventure presents itself, she doesn't sigh, "oh, no.  that's not for poor little girls like me."  She goes for it!  She does the extra work, she makes her own clothes, and shows up ready to find out what's out there!
Sure, she gets knocked down (as all of us do), and needs to rely on a little help from a friend (as all of us do). But she keeps hoping and trying, and when some crazy pumpkin-shaped means of seizing the day presents itself, she hops on for the ride!
Sometimes we don't get exactly what we'd had in mind.  But if we adapt, it can work out.
I like to think that it was this pluck and optimism that made our little 'Rella stand out among the crowd, to a prince who must have been decent enough if he had a thing for strong, go-getter girls with dishpan hands.
I like that when it was over she put on the old tattered shoes and went back to work.  No woe-is-me I can't have it forever.  Just appreciating the memories while she scrubbed the floors.  Again.
In the end she does get to go off and live in a castle, but hey.  Even the charmed life has its challenges.  We never heard the rest of the story.
I think the reason I like this tale is that even though it is the quintessential fantasy fairy-tale, it's actually a lot like life.
We have to do chores and toil at things we don't love.  We have to work with people we may not like.  Life sure isn't always fair.
But.  If we work really hard, if we never lose faith in our dreams and hopes and the glittering potential of what the future may hold, if we accept help when we need it, if we grab on to opportunities when they show up- even if they aren't perfect- if we strap on our glass slippers and go for the adventure, then sometimes.  Sometimes- at least until midnight- our dreams can come true.
The big ones and the little ones, whatever they might be.
If you like fairy tales too, stay tuned.  Next time I will tell you how, with help from my own prince charming and some fairy godparents,  once upon a July, some of my own little wishes came true.
But for now.  I have a floor to clean.