Not Boding Well

Remember when I said Susan's IEP transition to high school meeting went well? (Bullet 5) Well...

At that meeting, we all agreed to make a specific change in one class that she's taking next year. (So, think of it as taking World History in 9th grade instead of US History.) There were good, long-term thinking reasons for the change and everyone in the meeting agreed to it, even though it puts her in a slightly harder academic schedule. We also agreed to remove a support class they'd inserted (without asking us. And her current teacher of that subject stated that a support class was not necessary) and talked about the elective options to replace that class in her schedule.

Last week, school got out for the summer. I happened to meet with one of the high school counselors about something else to do with Susan's schedule for next year and she read off the entire course list to me. The support class is gone and has been replaced with Susan's third choice elective (because the first two were already full by the time we got her out of the support class we never asked for or needed. Grr.). But the "history" change hasn't been made. I expressed surprise. I was told that the counselor couldn't change the schedule of a student on an IEP and I would need to follow up with the IEP caseholder (a rule that I'm sure is in place to prevent IEP caseholders being left out of the loop). Of course, we don't have a high school IEP caseholder yet and the counselor said I should contact the person who represented the high school in that transition meeting.

So, I did. He's not responding. I've also copied her eighth grade caseholder who is WONDERFUL, and she has forwarded that on to some others who she says can "hopefully get this corrected before school starts." I'm not OK with "hopefully...before school starts." I want it done before she gets her official schedule the week before school starts so she can walk her schedule and figure out how to get to each class. (We even talked in the IEP meeting about how she should do that --familiarize herself with her route and figure out the best times to take locker breaks. We can't do that if her schedule isn't right.) Today is the last day of post-planning, although the person I'm trying to reach is supposed to be working all summer as well. I tried calling today to find out when I might be able to catch him in the office. I got told that email is really the best way to reach him and he was already gone for the day.

This is not a good start to high school scheduling issues.

Miscellaneous updates

• I still check up on the girls' birth mother periodically. Kayla went to jail in late November and stayed there until very recently. She gained a significant amount of weight while incarcerated (and complained about that on Facebook), but was so very thin before hand that I suspect she's actually closer to a healthy weight now than she was. She also commented about the weight being a result of being sober. I hope that her time in prison helped her break her addictions. What remains to be seen is whether her social circle is such that will support a lifestyle change to stay that way.
• We're half expecting a DFCS call in about 9 months telling us there's another baby. (To which we will have to say: thanks for letting us know, feel free to share our contact info with this one's foster/adoptive family. There's just no room at this inn.)
• Peter got his driver's license. There's a 15 year old Toyota Camry in my driveway that is "his to drive." Having him able to get himself (and his siblings over age 2) places has simplified life a bit. In our state, he's not allowed to drive friends for the first 6 months (and then only 1 at a time for another 6 months). (The not-driving-littles is a family rule which he is perfectly okay with obeying. They're just too distracting as passengers.)
• Lucy has learned how to say "help", which is awesome for letting her tell us when she needs us to step in and when she wants to work at it and figure something else. She's also taken to saying "helper" when she wants to do something for you that she thinks will be helpful. Like pick up the Cheerios that Jill has dropped out of the high chair.
• Susan will go to high school in the fall. We've had a meeting with her special ed team at the middle school as well as a representative from the high school to talk about the "transition plan." It all sounds pretty good. The real test will be next fall when she gets a whole new crop of teachers to work with and we find out how well the IEP gets enforced at the high school level.
• Lucy has begun saying "stop it!" Eek. I wondered and guilted myself and struggled to remember -- do I say that to her too much? I don't think I've heard others say that particular phrase much? Then, I heard it come out of my mouth. And realized I do say "stop it" quite a good bit . . . to the dog. (She jumps at the television whenever there's any kind of animal on it and I scold her to "stop it!" She barks at the UPS truck making a delivery across the street and I fuss "stop it!" She growls at the bird in the back yard and I snap "stop it!") 

Where Things Stand

A bullet point update, because I am Always Too Tired right now.

• The SwaddleMe swaddling blankets (pictured to the left, although ours are shades of pink) have been a life saver. C needs to be wrapped up tightly a lot of the time, especially to stay asleep. Her withdrawal symptoms include a lot of jerky flinching, which wakes her up. Mr D and I have realized that we are both very, very bad at swaddling a baby in a blanket. These things, though? Fantastic. 
• At first, the blankets were only saving my sanity while we remained in the house. C hated the car and, of course, I had to unswaddle her to put her in the car seat, didn't I? But, then! I realized what the little hole in the back of the blanket was for. I CAN SWADDLE HER WITH THESE WHILE STRAPPING HER INTO THE CARSEAT. Answer to prayer.
• Birthmom's surrender is official and final and done. There does not appear to be any plan for a final visit.
• Birthdad has stated his intent to surrender, but has still not actually been seen by the caseworker. I doubt he will want a final visit, even if offered one, since such a visit would also be the first time he's seen her.
• Caseworker seems very thorough and on top of things. It makes me happy when they actually want to see the child's bedroom and check under the baby's clothing; I know I'm not hurting this child, but it's the caseworker's job to ensure it.
• I used up my Dreft on the second load of her laundry. I'm not buying more. She's doing fine with her clothes washed in our regular detergent.
• Daytime sleep is still a bit of challenge. 
• Every day, I see a little bit more happy baby time and a little less screaming, miserable, withdrawing-from-drug-exposure baby time. Hooray!
• Lucy is equal parts proud of and jealous of her baby sister. She points her out to people -- "Bay-bee!" -- and insists I go running if she hears her over the monitor. On the other hand, she's gotten very clingy to me and begun to resist letting Mr D or Peter doing things for her, especially when she's tired.
• Tho Originals are still being big helps, although I try to limit what I ask of them, other than being more responsible for their own things. (I no longer make school lunches, for example.)

**Disclaimer, in case you're wondering: I have no ties to the makers of SwaddleMe and purchased these with my own money.

Early Days

C arrived during Lucy's naptime on Friday and then it was the weekend. Today is the first time I've really had to be alone with both littles awake. That's fun. (Well, no. No, it isn't. Hopefully, it will be fun. Later.)

C seems so tiny -- although she's a healthy weight. We're still working on figuring out the best bottle/nipple combination for her. She has a very strong suck, so she gets frustrated with store bought "infant" nipples with their slow flow because she wants the formula to come out faster! This is the learning curve that happens with every baby, of course.

She has no issues with night/day confusion, thankfully. She'll usually take at least one long sleep overnight. We've haven't discovered a consistent daytime nap schedule yet, but I'll take that over night time sleep issues any day.

She's generally happy if held, which is where the challenge this morning came in. I can't just hold her all day, as much as I might want to do that!

To answer Emily's question, the big three are being big helps right now and are completely in love. Edmund held her (sitting carefully on the couch) for me the other day when I needed to go clean Lucy up from a diaper explosion. Peter came home from a run and immediately invited Lucy outside to play with him on Sunday evening while Mr D was out doing the grocery shopping. (He'd thought he could get back before Lucy got up from her nap. He was wrong.) Saturday afternoon (while Lucy napped), I was trying to get a screaming C to settle down and Susan came down from her room to ask if there was anything she could do to help me. I'm well aware this spontaneous helpfulness won't last, but I'm using it while I can!

Lucy is fascinated, but a little clingy. She calls C "Bay-bee." It's adorable. Except when she screams it at the top her lungs when "Bay-bee" has just started to drift off to sleep....

Nothings

There is still nothing going on in fosterland around here. Our best guess at Kayla's due date (based entirely assuming the "she's about 5 months pregnant" in late April was correct) would put it later this month. There's been no update to her Facebook page since the pictures and I can't find any new information elsewhere online either. That means I still don't know what happened in her court cases. Part of me hopes she was convicted and sent to some sort of in-patient rehab program. (One of the cases involved a DUI, so that seems like a reasonable consequence to me. She has failed over and over at out-patient rehab. Maybe she could succeed with in-patient?)

School is starting. (Our schools run a schedule that allows them to complete all of the first semester before Christmas break...but it means starting school in early August.) Susan and Edmund are both in middle school this year, so it's been good having them on the same schedule to get out the door in the mornings. So far, morning shower times are staggering successfully. :)

M -- who I think I'll begin calling "Lucy" with this post -- is a busy, active little 18 month old. She's a climber in ways that the Originals never were, so you can't take your eyes off her for a second. On the other hand, she's pretty content in the mornings to play with her blanket in the crib, so I'm hoping I have at least a little while before she figures out how to scale the walls and get out of it all by herself.

My first semester coursework went well and the next semester will start in about 10 days. I'm hoping the start of the semester doesn't coincide with the arrival of a newborn, but I don't have control over that.

Slowly, the school year routine is falling into place with our not-so-little forever family. It remains to be seen if we're adding a "bonus child" this year or not. I can go hours without ever thinking about it, but mostly the uncertainty nags at me, especially as I try to plan for things that are weeks or months away. I also find myself wondering about inconsequential things: will the baby be a boy or girl? What's the baby's name? Will Kayla work the case plan this time? It's not as stressful a mental itch as limbo is when there is a child in my home whose future is uncertain, but it's still there, niggling at the back of my consciousness. In some ways, I wish I didn't even know Kayla was (might be?) pregnant, but then I remember that we would be closed if that were the case.

Where Is Your Mind?

Overheard today, as Edmund lay on the floor next to M.

Oh, no! Don't touch me there!

I looked over to see what he meant. He didn't look at me, but he kept talking to the baby.

That's the bottom of my foot and it really tickles!

Morality

I had an interesting experience yesterday. Well, I thought it was interesting at least. :)

I was school supply shopping with Peter. We had M with us, in her car seat, which I had set down in the basket of the cart. (Aside: when the Originals were babies, I did that thing where you put the car seat up on top of the cart, where the child seat is. I never thought anything about it; I needed the space in the basket for all the groceries! But after Edmund outgrew that carrier style car seat and I was trying to decide what to do with it, I noticed that the plastic near the hooks that latch into the base had white streaks, as though it had been bent near to breaking. So, with M, when the nurses in the NICU were insisting that I not attempt to latch the carrier on the seat part of the grocery cart because it can damage the latching system...I listened. She goes down in the main basket, and we fit the things we are buying down around her.)

We checked out and were back out at the car. I joked to Peter that we were about to find out if we accidentally stole anything as I picked her up to put in the car. Oops. We did.

 A pack of index cards and a protractor. Total cost: about $2.

I thought -- for about 2 seconds -- about shrugging my shoulders and going home. It was hot. M was tired of being in the car seat and getting hungry, so she was cranky. It was past dinnertime and Edmund and Susan were waiting at home. But, I had Peter with me. And I had just pointed out to him that we didn't pay for these items.

So, I carried M and the $2 worth of school supplies back into the store and paid for them.

What is interesting to me is this: I am certain that going back and paying for the items was the right thing to do. I am almost certain that I wouldn't have done it if Peter had not been with me. Apparently, I am a more moral person if I have an audience.

Labels

Like a lot of foster parents with other non-foster children, I spend a lot of time feeling like I'm living in two worlds that only overlap in my house.

Most of the parents of the Originals' classmates and friends have "normal" children with "normal" problems. I don't want to minimize those problems because they can be very real and legitimate concerns. But sometimes, I just want to slap some of those people.

I hear a lot of people agonizing over "labels." They don't want their child "labelled." They don't want people to "only see the label." (Unless, of course, the label is "gifted", but that's a whole different vent.) That's a legitimate concern...that makes me grind my teeth.

Anecdotal evidence -- my only experiences with a child that's been "labelled" have been positive. My daughter is "special needs." She is "labelled."

And you know what? The label gets the insurance to pay for the therapies. The label gets the school system to make accommodations. The label helps my daughter explain some of her "quirks" to her friends.

We've just started counseling for S. Her new psych eval mentioned the possibility of a behavioral disorder. I don't know much about the specific disorder yet and I don't yet know if that's right or not....but if having that label helps us get help with the rages, then I'm happy to label her. I can't say that too loudly, though, or I start feeling like one of those parents who "just wants to drug their child, rather than work on the problem." I do want to work on the problem; sometimes medication is what helps work on a problem. We don't refuse to give a child an antibiotic when they have an ear infection -- why do we refuse mental health medication, if it helps? (We aren't talking about medication, anyway. We're talking about using different behavioral tools for S because maybe her brain operates differently than most children.)

Random Thoughts

• It's a good thing S had school today because we were getting on each other's nerves this morning. I did not have my usual patience for answering the same questions that I answer on a daily basis; she was not happy with my insistence that she knew the answer to that and I wasn't answering it again. I was not feeling the compromises today; she was not willing to hand over any power whatsoever. The initial pickup at school didn't bode much better for her side of it as she nearly melted down when I would not let her run through the parking lot with her new "kite" made in school that day, but the hours "off" had given me a deeper level of serenity and patience. I was able to redirect her onto a grassy field to show me the kite and successfully headed off the meltdown by meeting her need to show off her new creation while still meeting my own need to keep her safe.
• We might have court in a few weeks. But I don't know that for sure. If I think too hard about this, I will get irritable again. I will just say that S's mom told me when court is and asked if we would be there. I told her, honestly, that I'd like to be, but that I haven't heard anything about it yet. My query to the caseworker has, shockingly, gone unanswered. (BioMom says her letter tells her they will be discussing the possibility of moving to unsupervised visits with her. I would like to be there to add my resounding and enthusiastic support to that idea and hopefully get an official answer on what the rules will be -- specifically, what's the upper limit to frequency and duration?)
• Finally, finally, finally starting counseling for S, although it is clear to me that this counselor has only worked with kids in "schools" that are full-time day-care or, you know, K-12 schools. She's seeing S at "school" for an hour a week. Out of the 9 hours that S spends there. For the month that remains of S's school year. OK. What really made me laugh was when she earnestly told me she would plan to see her at 10am, so that she could be done "before lunch and nap-time." Yeah, those are at my house. :)
• It's almost May which means all the random "events" are starting up for the Originals as well as for S. Spring Sing concert, Field Day, Writer's Tea, Barter Day, Teacher Appreciation week, Band Concert in the Park, 5th Grade "Walk" (a "not-graduation" ceremony), Volunteer Appreciation breakfasts, sports banquets and End of Year parties. My May calendar makes my eyes hurt. Part of me wants to suggest that next year, we hold all our volunteer appreciation events at some random time during the year....like March....so that they don't fall when our volunteers are busy, you know, volunteering?

My own triggers

I'm feeling a little better about S's rages.  I finally got a response from someone . . . someone who listened to what I had to say, validated it and gave concrete, specific advice for how to move forward from here. That really helped. I also realized something.

When we were going through our home study, there was an interview section. The interviewer asked us questions about our own childhoods and relationships with family members. She talked about how there aren't really "wrong" answers to those questions (although I'm sure there are some answers that would be red flags), but said it was important to know what sort of things might be in our own pasts that a future foster child could trigger. We needed to work through any of those issues ourselves before we could help a child with similar ones.

Made sense to me. I thought long and hard and tried to imagine anything that could impact a placement.

But I looked too far back. I didn't think about more recent experiences.

I kept asking for help for S, telling professional after professional that she is melting down and I don't know how to help her.

I kept getting all but patted on the head as these people tell me this is "normal" and I'm doing a great job with her and would I like to schedule a respite weekend soon?

I finally realized what past memory that response is dredging up. Susan. The first, oh, about 7 years of her life. Specialist after specialist telling me she is "fine", she's "within normal ranges", she'll "grow out of it" or "catch up." Years of feeling in my gut that she's not fine, that there's something bigger here than a "mild developmental delay", that I don't know how to help her. Pretty much from birth. Until finally, in the spring of 1st grade, the school psychologist did a psych eval on her at my request. (Requested on the advice of the private psychologist we were seeing who told me they had to do it if I asked for it and that he could do one, but that the school might dismiss any findings he made, but "if they find it, they have to offer her resources in school to help her.") And that was when we finally had the Asperger's diagnosis. 7 years.

S can't wait 7 years.

I can't wait 7 years.

I don't ask for help or support services lightly. I know resources are thin and there's not enough money in the pot to cover all the help everybody wants. So, it takes a pretty dramatic problem for me to start screaming for help. And getting brushed off with what they think are reassuring statements is the last thing I need.

Again and again, forever and forever....foster care sucks.

Asperger's and Connecticut

Because I have such a young one in the house, we have not watched much of the coverage of the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary.

We discussed what happened with Peter and Susan. We encouraged them to continue to talk to us whenever they want or need to do so, but to ensure that we are in private when they do so. Edmund and S are young enough to not need to know any of the details. (At 3, S doesn't need to know anything about it all.)

But even within that little bubble, the latest stories connecting the shooter's behavior's to a supposed Asperger's diagnosis have filtered through.

And it makes me furious.

Asperger's can cause over-reactions to frustrations, disruptions and disappointments. Some people with Asperger's react to stress by lashing out.

But it is not a condition that should have made anyone expect that young man to pick up a gun and start shooting people.

Words

Edmund asked me yesterday if I knew what "retard" meant.

I'm pretty sure that I managed to stay outwardly calm, and said that I did.

While I was trying to figure out how to continue this conversation -- where did you hear that word? who said it? To whom was it said? Here's why it's not a word you should be using.... -- he continued, "it means slow."

"Well, yes, it does." I agreed. Technically. I guess?

Then I asked him where he heard it.

At school. In music class.

Oh! "ritard!"

Not the conversation I thought we were having.....

Empathy and Asperger's

I think I mentioned that Susan has Asperger's.

An acquaintance of mine who happens to be a teacher said once that she went to a training on working with kids on the autism spectrum. The instructor began the class by asking how many of them had previously taught a child with Asperger's or autism. Then he said to those with their hands raised, "Congratulations. You know one person on the spectrum." He went on to explain that each kid on the autism spectrum is unique, just as each neurotypical kid is unique. What worked with a previous student may or may not work with your next one and the symptoms that define your current student's struggles may be completely different than anything you've seen before.

For Susan, she struggles with social interactions. She doesn't read other people very well and she has a very hard time making "small talk." She wants things to happen when they are supposed to happen and does not like it when the plans are changed on the fly. Her (public) school has been incredibly proactive in helping her learn the skills she needs to get better at these things, especially in their work with her on figurative language, which she had to learn by rote, instead of picking it up from context clues the way most neurotypical kids can. (For example, used to be that if I told her that she was taking forever to get dressed, she would ignore me, because she knew that the process of getting dressed was going to be done in a finite amount of time and therefor my saying it was taking "forever" didn't make sense. She's since learned "it takes forever" really means something more like "it's taking too long." She still doesn't hurry up, though.)

Aside: When I mention her diagnosis to people, I often get asked if I watch Parenthood. I have. I still do, sometimes. But I struggle with the characterization of Max, because (since the departure of the character that was his behavioral aide), I don't see them working with him to help teach him how to function better. I don't see him learning what's appropriate behavior in public and I don't see any attempts to help him learn that. Maybe that's a character arc that they are taking deliberately, but it saddens me that the show isn't using the platform it has to demonstrate how much help is available and how much can be taught. (To be clear, I think the actor is amazing. He nails the no eye contact, constant motion, difficulty with change that characterizes most kids on the spectrum. When they have given him scenes where he needs to show the difficulties that will never really go away, he has done so well at them. I wish they would utilize those talents to show him growing and learning how to function in neurotypical society.)

I've often heard social skills issues in Aspie's described as "lacking empathy." It's not that Susan doesn't have empathy. It's not that she doesn't care about what other people want or like or enjoy. It's not that she doesn't want other people to enjoy being around her. It's not even that she's not paying attention to what those around her like or want. It's just that she doesn't always know how to show it.

Today, she's going to a birthday party for another girl in her 5th grade class. (She doesn't get invited to a lot, so we never turn down an invitation.)

I asked her what she wanted to get as a gift for the birthday girl. The birthday girl is "girly" -- into makeup and hairstyles and trendy jewelry. Susan is . . . not. But Susan knew these things about the birthday girl and chose to get her an assortment of nail polish colors and a small manicure set to go with it.

Susan also told me repeatedly that the birthday girl really likes rainbows. She wanted to wrap the present in something with rainbows on it. And she wanted to wear a shirt with a rainbow on it to the party -- although she doesn't own one -- because she wanted everything she was bringing to the party to be something the birthday girl liked.

She's not lacking empathy. She just doesn't know how to show it in ways that don't come off as "weird."

Gone Home

L and O are gone.

We took a goodbye tour of the school for L during teacher preplanning -- she got to say goodbye to her teacher and some of the staff. She saw the new spirit wear going up on display and got very clingy and whispered that she wished she was going to our school again next year.

O took a walk through the house before we left for the last time, saying goodbye to every room.

When we got to the meeting hand-off location, L was cool and calm with us. Excited to see her mom, with a big hug and grin for her, L climbed in Mom's car very quickly and had to be told (by Mom) to get back out and say goodbye.

O made the rounds of last hugs and I was surprised to see tears welling up. It started when Peter told him goodbye with a big hug, and then O turned to me to say goodbye. I didn't think he would understand how "forever" that goodbye is likely to be, but he sure seemed to!

After that, it was much harder to let O drive off with BioMom than it was to see L go. L was so clearly done with her goodbyes and ready to go before she even got in our car that last time, but O seemed to struggle with it a bit more. I hope he's been OK since, but I'll never really know, will I?

In the time since they left, we've had a family debrief of "how it all went." My house is almost thoroughly clean again and I'm caught up on the laundry. School has started and the house is quiet for long stretches of the day. We've repaired the things L broke in his room. I touched up the paint on his walls, as well.

I'm enjoying the little things. The ability to leave Peter, Susan and Edmund home alone while I run to the grocery store for a short list; it's a 30 minute absence where I'm never more than 5 minutes away, but I can't leave a 12 year old in charge of foster kids of any age. The luxury of knowing that the kids will be thrilled at getting a book from the bookstore. The fact that we can go more than 2 meals without needing to run the dishwasher. The general quieter noise level in the car and around the table. The idea that I can keep up with the laundry on less than 2 loads a day.

Throughout all this, I've been itching to dig into my boxes of "extra clothes", wanting to reorganize it all. I keep telling myself that I have to get all the "needs to be done" things finished first. Then, I'll tackle the project that is reorganizing my hand-me-downs, so that I can pull out a certain size and gender on a moment's notice again......

Tweens . . . .

When my kids were very young, my mother commented once that she remembered that by the time I was in high school, she was missing the days when she could "pick somebody up and just carry them out of there."

I had that day this morning with Peter.

He's a middle schooler. He's nearly 12. He's almost as tall as I am. I can not physically make him do anything anymore. But I haven't needed to in a very long time, because he's generally a very good kid.

This morning, though? Ugh.

It started early. He didn't get up when I woke the boys. He doesn't really have to get up when Edmund gets up, as his bus comes over half an hour later, but he prefers to get up with the younger kids and then be able to take his time in the morning. I waited about 10 minutes, then went back in. I told him the time and asked if he was getting up yet. He rolled over, so I left him alone.

About 10 minutes later, he came stomping down the stairs demanding to know why I hadn't gotten him up. I told him I woke him twice, tried to gloss over the fact that he was being Mr Grumpy, and continued getting breakfast for 3 other children and packing 5 lunches.

You know I don't want to be left to sleep. You know I like to get up when the others do. I've been lying in bed confused for 15 minutes! 

I warned Mr Grumpy that he needed to get his attitude under control or he'd be heading back to his room to start the day over.

Normal breakfast continued. Until he noticed HIS pencil in the communal pencil holder by the phone. He snatched it up and glared at me. I was puzzled. It's a pencil.

But I left it on the coffee table! Next to my pencil pouch! And now he's nearly yelling, speaking with great disdain of the idiocy of whoever dared to remove his pencil from the proximity of where it belongs and place it with other pencils.

I remained miraculously calm! If I find a pencil on the coffee table, I'm going to put it in the pencil jar. Put it in the pouch if that's where you want it.

You would have thought I suggested that he murder some puppies to eat for breakfast.

Eye roll, stomp. It's pretty much the only pencil I have!

I was done being patient. You need to go back upstairs and start this morning over.

And that's when IT happened. He leaned against the counter, crossed his arms, and said, "No."


Holy crap. What does he mean "No"? And now what? I can't just pick him up and carry him out of here.....


And that's the moment I realized what my mother meant.

Progress!

This morning at the bus stop, O gave L a big hug just before the bus pulled up. She immediately directed him towards Edmund and then Susan, making sure they got goodbye hugs, too. We've come such a long way since this day.

Relationship Drama

Susan, Edmund and L all ride the same school bus to the elementary school. Peter rides a different (later) bus to the middle school and O is in part-day preschool, where I drive him and drop him off.

Some mornings, O is awake and walks to the bus stop with me and the 3 elementary kids. Other mornings, he's still asleep and stays in the house while Peter finishes getting ready for school. This particular morning, O was at the bus stop.

We could see the bus at the previous stop, picking up that load, so the kids were all lining up to get on, the line heading straight out from the curb, then curving down the sidewalk.. L was 3rd in line, Edmund 4th and Susan about 7th. L asked O for a hug and he hugged her; while hugging, she asked for a kiss, which he gave her, too. Then Edmund asked if he could have a hug, too.

L can NOT STAND it when it looks like O might like anyone but her, especially if it's Edmund, who is younger than she is and yet in her grade and excelling. As soon as Edmund asked for the hug, she stepped between O and Edmund and asked for another hug, too, talking over Edmund as though it was a competition for O's affection. O hugged her and just looked at Edmund. He asked again for a hug and so did Susan. O walked over and hugged Susan, still looking at Edmund; L began to laugh. "He hugged her and me, but not you!" Edmund looked sad and I leaned over to O to ask him to give Edmund a hug, too, when L demanded another hug which he gave her. The bus arrived and the line started to move. As I whispered to O, "Could Edmund have a hug, too?", L began dancing on the spot, singing, "I got a hug from my brother!" Edmund teared up, and pushed at her backpack. She whipped around and snapped, "Don't hit my backpack!" just as O gave Edmund a hug.

I told her not to gloat as they climbed on the bus. I don't know how to handle this sort of rivalry. I know she needs that love from O because she's missing it from so many other places. But I can't let her be nasty to Edmund in order to get it. I hate that she's learned somewhere that love is finite and that more love for someone else means less love for me. I hate that O has been trained to withhold affection while watching for a reaction, as though enjoying the power that it gives him.

Edmund shouldn't have pushed her, but I'm tired of punishing him for reacting to her drama. I will not let her be an emotional bully and I will not let her train O to be one either. This is going to be one of our biggest struggles during the time they are with us -- helping them learn that love and affection are not tools to be used to hurt someone else. I hope we are up to the task.

In the Wee Small Hours . . . again

As I approached the boys' room this morning to wake up the youngest for school, I heard voices. Specifically, I heard Peter (the oldest) say, "Would you just go get Mom?" So I opened the door.

Well, I tried to open the door. It was locked. We don't lock doors in our house. So, irritated, I knocked.

Silence.

"It's Mom. The door is locked." Surprised voices from the other side, then my oldest child opened the door.

At 4 am, he woke to see O in his room. O said, "Hi!" and ignored all attempts to get him to go back to his own bed. Tired, Peter went back to sleep. When I arrived at 6am, O was curled up in a fetal position in Peter's bed, fast asleep.

Someone else is in my room and he won't leave has now been added to the list of "reasons it's OK to wake up Mom or Dad in the middle of the night."

Edmund

Edmund is our youngest. He's Mr Happy-Go-Lucky, never met a stranger, the world is a wonderful place. He's full of energy and enthusiasm and he can't sit still to save his life.

His birthday falls a few weeks after the school age cutoff, so he started kindergarten as the oldest kid in the class. And the biggest. He's always wanted to do everything that Peter does, so he was also far advanced academically. I worried about the start of kindergarten, because I knew he'd be bored and I was afraid he'd be a discipline problem because of it. He was already comfortably reading 2nd and 3rd grade level books before kindergarten started and he could do simple addition problems in his head.

The first week of Kindergarten, I got a call from his teacher. "Just wanted to talk about what I'm seeing with Edmund." Oh, no, I thought, Already? what's he done? What's going on? "I've got nothing in this classroom that's going to challenge him in reading, so I need your permission to do some 1st grade testing with him." Oh. OK.

Ultimately, she worked with him so carefully and so hard that he was ready to jump over 1st grade and start 2nd grade a year early. The assessment they do to decide if this is a good move for a child looks at their social, physical and emotional development levels as well as their academics. He got a 20 out of 24 on it, and the teacher who did it pointed out that it wasn't possible for him to get all points because some of them are based on your SAT scores.

Beginning foster care has been the hardest challenge for him, I think. He's gone from being the baby, although I frequently forget just how young he really is, to being a stand-in "big brother" for kids who may or may not want one.

Susan

Susan is our second born, our only girl. She's in late elementary, an avid reader, a dog lover, and has Asperger's.

Her spot on the autism spectrum is very much on the "high-functioning end" with some social skills that she's still struggling with and some fine motor control issues that we are working on circumventing. She has trouble understanding that she cannot always believe everything someone else says.

She is passionate about her faith in God and is the most excited of all of the children to be involved in foster care. She knows, on an intellectual level, that she is blessed with a happy loving home that other children do not have and has leapt to the challenge of providing that to others. She's just not sure exactly how to behave with them.

She is surprisingly good with O as well, and will play with him for as long as he's interested, then leave him alone with no hard feelings when he wants to move on to someone else. I worry that she is a little too prone to believe everything L tells her, but am grateful that our first placement has involved children with minimal behavior issues.