A Place to Write

I set very low expectations for Christmas this year. We've been warned it would be rough. J warned us it would be rough. For all of December he has blamed any grumpiness on it being too close to Christmas. He doesn't give any detail why Christmas is so rough. I assume it's the same reason why Easter is rough. It's remembering times with younger siblings and missing seeing them grow up. He couldn't recall any positive Christmas memories or even any celebration at all in 2016. I put a lot of thought into what to get him. The best gift was a skateboard. A real one. When he saw it his reaction was "Is it from Walmart?" I was so excited to tell him "Nope!" It came from a real skate shop. Just like all his friends. Suddenly Christmas wasn't so bad. J put up with being in matching Christmas jammies at the Vance's house all morning and even stood in for pictures. He enjoyed wrestling with David and he got more clothes which he put on to wea

“Shouldn’t they be going home?” she asked as a loud noise thumped through the house from J’s bedroom.Three teenagers were wrestling. Loudly. I shrugged. “Why? It’s not their bedtime.” “Because it’s good for kids to have structure and it’s a school night.” The conversation wasn’t mean. It was said in a joking tone but boy was it laced with judgement. And it got to me. It was 8 p.m. on a Wednesday and yes, my home was full of very rowdy, very loud teenage boys. But they were having fun and I knew exactly where they were and what they were doing and they weren’t hurting anyone. Seemed good enough for me! I’m feeling and hearing it often lately. I need to apply more “structure” to J’s life. I just think my idea of structure is different. I feel like what they really mean is “expectations.” Because J has structure. He has two parents. He has a home and food. He wakes up, he goes to school, he comes home or he hangs out with his friends. Either way he knows he has to let me

I think we, as a society, are always prepared to jump to the worst conclusions about kids like J. That includes me.  We recently found out he accepted cigarettes from a friend. Knowing just that, we assumed he smoked them. He swears he didn't smoke them but asked for them so he could give them to another friend--to get him to stop smoking weed. As dumb as that sounds, I believe him. Now. But at first, and I think reasonably so, I didn't. We jumped to the conclusion that he was smoking. We got upset that it felt like he was hiding it from us. He has no idea why we would jump to that conclusion. He doesn't understand that he put himself in that situation. He doesn't understand why we would think he is smoking. He got mad at us for assuming the worst. We did the same thing several days earlier when it was getting late and he wasn't home and also wasn't answering his phone. I thought back to everything we had disagreed about. I feared he had run away. I feared h

I think the funniest stories of your childhoods will be those stories of you all misbehaving. So let's recall a few from recent days: Last night I put Eisley and Kaybree in the bath, set out the nearly-full shampoo and conditioner bottles (because Kaybree likes to do her own) and I sat just outside the bathroom in my bedroom to read while you girls played. I came back in about 10 minutes later to find the bath water pink and Kaybree holding a completely empty shampoo bottle. That's right, the two of you had such a grand time you emptied not just one bottle but BOTH! I tried to rinse you off and couldn't because every time I dumped water in your hair I just dumped more soap on you. I had to completely empty the tub, rinse it out, and then use fresh water from the faucet to rinse you. I was so mad and you were both so distraught that I was so mad. Kaybree kept asking if there would be a consequence. I told her the consequence was that I was mad. You both kept saying sorry

Playing with La la Loopsy dolls with the girls: Kaybree to Eisley: "What's your name?" Eisley: "It's me, Loopsy." Kaybree: "No, change your name." Eisley: "Loopa?" Kaybree: "How about ice cream dream?" Eisley: "Ok!"

Last night I put the girls to bed at about 8 p.m. like normal. And just like every night Eisley didn't feel like going to bed. I did my best to ignore her and went to spend time with J (Brendon was at the Suns game.) We played with nerf guns for about an hour and the entire time I could hear Eisley running into my room and back out. The master bathroom is directly above the kitchen. Eisley apparently doesn't know this. But alas, she was quiet and we were having fun so I decided to let her play herself to sleep. At about 10 p.m. I head up to bed. I go to close the door to the girls' room and discover--Eisley has picked out some clothes for tomorrow. My clothes. All her favorites, stolen from my closet and placed on the floor in her room. I shake my head and laugh, pick up my clothes and close the door to their room. I go to my room and get all ready for bed. I didn't turn on the light because I could see just fine from the light in the bathroom. Both dogs followe

Sweet 16 is supposed to be a magical time. For me it was when I could officially begin dating and driving on my own. I applied for jobs right away to earn some extra cash. It was an exciting day. A birthday I looked forward to. For many kids in foster care their birthday is just another day. They often don't get gifts meant just for them--because no one really knows them. They might get a gift card and a cake. They don't get to see their family or hold a big party with their friends. It's another painful reminder of the past. I didn't want it to be like that for J but nothing can change the fact that it has never been a positive day for him. He wanted to avoid it. So I wrote him a note: Dear J, October ___ is the 7-month anniversary of you coming to live with us. (There may be something else going on that day but we won’t talk about that) I would like to celebrate. I understand you may not want to celebrate so I thought I would give you some options for