Heard at my house this weekend

What a crazy respite weekend! With 2 – 15yr olds and a 9 yr old boy here for the weekend…  well let’s just say it was eventful. Things you might have heard me say:

“I am NOT talking to anyone until they have put their shirt back on!”

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“Uhhh, NO you CAN NOT drink the ketchup. Seriously? The ketchup?”

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“What is that smell? Was that you? Do NOT blame the dog! Next time leave the room before you do that!”

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“Videotapping my butt is not funny. Stop laughing! Stop video taping my butt! RIGHT NOW!”

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“I’m happy you’re here too!”   (this one got me all choked up!)

Mara~ “No I will not touch your ’six-pack’!”

I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart

I was able to say goodbye to my uncle Bernie tonight. That was nice. And I loved hearing about the memories others shared of him. They were things I had forgotten, so they are even more precious now. I am going to write them down so I don’t forget again.

That ridiculous ratty straw hat he wore as he cruised the lake on his pontoon boat. His chuckle. I don’t have the words for his chuckle, but I can hear it in my head. It’s something I will always remember.  God, he was funny. So funny. His humorous deflection and rejection of anything that was for ‘old’ people. His love of fine brandy.

My aunt was truly the love of his life, and they read a love letter she had written to him on their 50th wedding anniversary…  It was beautiful.  He’s waiting for her, I know it. And my aunt…  I love her so much and I admire how in her broken heart she is so strong. And even though she’s waiting to be with him again, she is going to keep living. She’s amazing.

So Bernie’s with his parent’s and his sister and I can see him sitting beside dad and Tom with a little  ‘allo allo’ and sharing a beer.

Mara~ that makes me smile

Death

My uncle B died this evening. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I hate that. I hate saying goodbye too, but not being able to is worse somehow. I drove all the way in to town, parked the vehicle, and walked up to the hospital doors. As soon as I opened the doors and I smelled that hospital smell I was done. Even though it has been almost two years when I was walking in those doors daily, often more than once a day, to sit in hospice with my dad. Almost two years and I still can’t walk through the doors……..

I wasn’t able to collect myself. And really, it’s not about me. My aunt and cousins did not need to see me still unable to contain the grief I feel about losing my dad. Most days I make it through just fine. But I just could not physically take the steps to go in. I came home and watched tennis, the French Open is on at Roland Garos. I love the red clay, la terre battue.  And why does it seem people I love die during tennis majors? I watched Roger Federer win the US Open on a Sunday afternoon.  And then I held my dad as the sun was coming up the next day and he was dying.

I was going to try again tomorrow.

I ran out of tomorrows.

I am  happy you aren’t in pain anymore B., and you know I loved you. Cancer is a bitch. Really it is. You were funny and a hard worker. And your kids love you and your grandkids are going to miss you so much. M. will be okay, we’ll take care of her. And could you say hi to Dad for me, you know how much I miss him.  The heartbreaking thing is I know what your kids are going through because they lost a dad they loved fiercely too. I’m glad I have many happy memories of you. Sauna’s at camp, bringing firewood to mom’s, sneaking a sip of beer, reliving what it’s like to have Ukranian/Polish/Russian parents, and laughing. Lots of laughter. Thank you. 

Mara ~ I thought I’d have another tomorrow…

Best line evah!

“Jesus put me on this earth to tell you what to do!”

Dude, you need that written into your marriage vows

Mara ~ therapeutic foster kids are awesome!

ADD joke

How many people with ADD (attention deficit disorder)does it take to change a light bulb?

Wanna go ride a bike?

Mara ~ best joke ever told in church by a gifted ADD pastor.

Sometimes it’s hard not to be angry

I love doing therapeutic foster care. Even when I feel like I want to pull out my hair with three teenage boys visiting the house, I love it. Sometimes though the minutae slips away and I am angry at people and the damage they have done to their children. Angry. And I know we all have demons and some parents have lived impossible lives themselves. And I’m usually good at living in the moment, and dealing with whatever comes up. And it’s just not my job to judge. Still, sometimes I feel angry.

Children should never have legs broken by their parents, or be so severely neglected that their developmental delays may never be overcome.  And drugs and alcohol and all the following ramifications. And abuse of all types, and neglect, and pain and hurt. And an education system that treats kids like they need special ed, or a medical profession that medicates everything, in the exact same way. And the stigma of foster care. It’s really too much.

And the kids? They’re awesome. They really are. Resilient and strong and broken and amazing. Really. You should all be in awe. And humbled.  And I want to pick up the broken pieces and tape it all up until it’s good as new.  But I can’t. I’ll help though. And my house is here when foster parents need a little break, and my house is safe. It’s not much of a house, but there is food and laughter. And a Wii.

So hug your kids if you have them. And know that we are part of many families in our lives and biology isn’t everything….  It’s a huge part of who you are and where you came from but it’s not everything.

And love? It is the most amazing thing. We have an infinite capacity.

Mara ~ whose ‘kids’ are giving her more than she could ever give them.

Hmmm

A bunch of you have let me know that Bloglines is not picking up my feed… And I don’t know what to do for you..

Mara ~ wordpress ludite

Let’s discuss

Go see this article.

 Try to read through the comments (it’s tough, believe me!)

And let’s chat, shall we?

Mara

Let’s summarize, shall we?

Short version.

• My 16yr old dog died. I am sad. My child was inconsolable. Which made me more sad.  I still find myself looking at her blanket or going to get her dog food or finding some hair under the furniture. Poor Bella.  It was odd how it happened. Quick thankfully, but not really expected.  I mean she moved relatively slowly, she was thin, her eyes were cloudy.  She hadn’t eaten in a couple of days (not unusual, she’d done that her whole life), but one afternoon I found her lying in her own pee looking lethargic. I bathed her, and she never liked baths. She had enough energy to drench me from head to toe, and to snort water all over me. I dried her off and put her on her bed. I went on to cook supper, clean up after the kids and went to check on her. Her respiration rate had gone way down, she was not too responsive. On the way to the vets she was still breathing but by the time we got there she was no longer breathing, had no corneal reflex… but her heart was still beating. We stopped her heart, my child wailed, The Guy and I cried. Say hi to dad Bella. We miss you.

 

• BFF’s 4 month old daughter is sick, and has been flown to another facility to have her bone marrow tapped. Please pray.

 

• MIL has finally broken her silence and actually communicated with The Guy. The good news is that we know she’s alive, her finances are being looked after and she’s taking her medication. The bad news is that she refuses to take any responsibility for anything and continues to look outside of herself for someone else to blame. Head games, poor decisions continue, and I fear we may end up with further hospitalizations etc. And as for the doctor saying you can leave the hospital? That does not mean he said you SHOULD leave the hospital.

 

• I find it quite rich that in a letter sent to me by MIL she told me to get over the death of my father and that I was setting a poor example to my child by showing her I could not cope with anything. Hmmm. I know she’s mentally ill, but it’s hard not to have feelings when people say things like that to you. Get over it. Indeed.

 

• This whole months has been a sea of respite therapeutic foster care for teenage boys. My house is filthy. I am drained. I found myself annoyed  when I felt one of the boys was not ‘grateful’ enough for all the accomodations and thought I was providing to make his stay as comfortable as possible. I quickly slapped myself . Is this why I do this? Gratitude? Nope? So shut up then. Okay.

 

• There’s a huge controversy about this article.  Adoptive parents are scared a negative article about adoptions form Ethiopia will negatively affect the future of adoptions. There are lines being drawn in the sand. “I had a good experience!”  ”I had a bad experience!” “Adoption is good!”  “Adoption is bad!”  “The article was biased and negative!” “The article brought to public attention irregularities!”  “These families are brave!” “These families are selfish!”  I’ll save my ideas for another post.  Though I must say I really do HATE,  HATE, HATE the title “Buying Babies”. Mostly it makes me tired.

 

• I’m planning my daughter’s 5th birthday party. How did this happen? What a cliche… The time does fly though.

Mara ~ Spring is almost here!!!

Para-tonsillary abcesses, racism 101

Trust me, it hurts. A lot. Like swallowing a thousand razor blades in a mouthful of drool, and it leaves you choking and a little panicked by it all. So anyway, tons of meds and some AWESOME, GODSENT mouthwash, and I have moved beyond the insanity and the creeping anxiety everytime I felt the need to swallow. It made me freak out a little when the walk-in doctor asked if the doctors in the emergency department had even looked in my mouth the previous day….  Hmmm thanks emerg!

Now onto a subject that is just exhausting me! And I’m white! And privileged in ways I am sure I have not yet acknowledged! And I’m heterosexual! And I’m middle class! Did I mention I am white? And I live in Canada!  

 ENOUGH with the slant eye gesture! Es tu Miley? Es tu Miley?

Now I could start the whole southern-God-fearing-trailerpark-cousin-marrying-idiot-parent analogies, but  that would be uncalled for. And I would only gain a moment of satisfaction until the self-loathing would creep in. So I rise above.

So, it’s the racist ‘chink eye’ gesture again. Dude, my Chinese daughter does not need to see that shit from a Disney Billion Dollar Empire. And can I once again say how incredibly sick I am of the non-apology? (See here).  And that poor Asian guy in the picture, just coming to realize that his friends are a bunch of racists. Sigh.  

Miley says her actions were taken out of context. I have a tidy little sum running on whether she knows what that actually means. All she has to do is provide said context. And poor Miley, she was just trying to make ‘goofy faces’. Because, you know, those asians are really goofy looking. How can she be expected to control herself?  And the kicker is that she can’t believe SHE is being targetted for being a racist when God has a plan for her and the evil media are just trying to get hits on their websites or copies of trashmags sold, and her fans know her heart, and she’s really just a young, silly girl. Wow. It sucks to be the victim doesn’t it Miley? Because of course how could some slant eye ever understand anything about being marginalized, being discriminated against or having to watch some un-taught child do the equivalent of calling you the n-word? Because that gesture is exactly the same thing. The. Exact.Same.Thing.  And please don’t argue, because as a whitey you (and me) do NOT get to tell people of colour what is and is not racist. You just don’t.

And now I’d like to hate-on so called allies. You know who you are. You are the white parents of children of colour who don’t want your children to see racism behind every tree. You don’t want your child to run away with a ‘victimhood’ mentality, or to be ‘oversensitive’, or to walk around being constantly ‘offended’.  You say you’ll be there ‘if’ they encounter racism. IF?!  What you are teaching them is that YOU are insensitive! YOU are sending them the message that being one of ‘those’ people is not desirable. Of course your child never mentions anything about being the victim of racism…. because you, the parents, are racist. And the zipper is stuck on your white privilege bag. And it’s hard, but you have to be willing to learn, to unpack and do better. Your children deserve it. The gesture is not in good fun, the gesture perpetuates the beliefs of a racist society. If you are not Asian you do not know what it’s like to be Asian. If you are not adopted, you will never know how it feels to be adopted. These are not things we should teach our children to let ‘roll off their backs’. We need our children to know that we know it’s wrong and we will not let them navigate through a racist world without us having their back. And working actively to dismantle a power structure that refuses to fundamentally acknowledge and accept our children. Our children of colour. Yes, sometimes I hate my fellow adoptive parents. We can be so fucking clueless.

And once again the way to apologize is to say “I’m sorry. I’ll do better” and then sit down and shut up. A little hint in case you are having trouble formulating an apology, never, ever use the word “if”. Never.

Mara ~ I think I’m back