life is a collection of stories, years worth of stories

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Some days, I think life is all just one big collection of stories we all compose in our heads. Most of us want to be the hero or heroine, and we all tend to frame the stories of our actions in that light. For many of us the audience is purely ourselves. Like an editor, we pick which are the most salient peaces of the stories and the rest falls away. We think back on the good we’ve done. Maybe, we think back on the fun we had with friends or lovers. Ultimately when I think back, I tend to remember the stories, the shared adventures. Remembering feelings is so much harder unless it’s in the context of the stories. In a lot of ways, the feelings are the merely context for the stories though maybe that’s the opposite for others. For me, I remember the stories.

After a year of not writing, I was trying to figure out what sticks out most to me in the past year, and all I could come up with was a bunch of stories. Truth is, the year has been lumped up in my brain as a bunch of stories, stories I cherish. Heck, even Mr. O’s rage at the indignity of nap time resulting in him removing his diaper and spreading it’s contents on the crib is one of those stories at which I look back on and laugh. I didn’t at the time, but heck if I don’t smile every time I tell why he wears a onesy to bed. Truth be told, it’s a story of simply being a parent with time and energy for little else, and that’s better than OK.

In trying to figure out which memory sticks out the most, I realized I can’t. So here’s my top list in no particular order:

* Ms. A running around chasing her brother only to stop with the “I’m sllleeeepppyyy” fuss that last for 10 seconds to be followed by another round of chase.

* Maybe it’s both of them fussing every time they are put on the potty only to be thrilled at the prospect of getting 2 jelly beans when they get down because it was a successful trip.

* Perhaps it’s hiking in Oregon with the kids on our back.

* Maybe it’s both kids asleep on the airplane with Jill forced into a really awkward looking crouch as the 2 kids took up three seats with their sleep.

* O with his Mohawk and glasses sporting a look that only a 2 year old can get away with and look cool. He draws so much attention anywhere we go.

* Ms. A being excited every moring at the psopect of getting on her school bus.

* Perhaps it’s hearing that our adoption is finally going through (at a date to be determined soon)

I guess any of those could be chapters in the year. As much as I think of moments and stories though, I think the memory that will most stick with me from this year is coming home after day at work to gleeful shouts of “DDDAAAADDDDYYY!” There is nothing like coming home from a day of sometimes stressful decisions on things I have no knowledge about, incurring bruised feelings, then wondering where the energy to genuinely be with my family is supposed to come from only to be greeted by that scream and those hugs. Everyday I come home and get to have that same feeling of “OK, I can do this.”

I think every parent has those moments where we wish for a video camera to film something that would make that first date laugh. Those are stories. As I sit here writing this, I’m kind of stuck though. I’m writing this days before Ms. A has her major heart surgery. I don’t really have the story yet because it hasn’t been written yet. At this point all I have is the emotions of frustration, worry and uncertainty, knowing all the while she’s tough and has beaten far worse odds than this surgery.

We’ll see. I’m hoping she comes out with the “I’m tough” saying on her lips just like I’ve got both kids saying whenever they want to cry because the other one hit them over the head with a random toy. Something about a little kid who has been through a lot saying, “I’m tough” to fight off tears just makes me smile.

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Fears:
I definitely have a new one. Both my foster kids are threatened with going home to families other than mine. Mr.O is likely to go back home to his parents now that mom’s case has been moved to juvie. The way things look now, she will probably get off with time served and parenting classes. Regardless, she will be released in a few years at age 21. At that point, she becomes the resource for his dad so he could have custody. I’m not against reunification, but so far neither parent has shown any ability to read or understand how to deal with Mr. O medically. They say showing up is half of life, but thus far Dad doesn’t show up and 50% is still a failing grade in my book. I know Oscar cries a lot. Believe me. I know. I just hate that what I think when he does cry is more true than I’ve liked to pretend: “put up with his crying and enjoy the smiles. The number of smiles he has may be a finite quantity.” YUCK!

Grrrr. I want him to have a good life. My wife and I have tried to give that to him, and I wish I could say I expected him to have a fulfilling happy life if he goes home. Now I just hope with out expectations.

As for A, her dad and Aunt haven’t been to a doctor’s appointment in months. Nor have they made phone calls to set up a family visit. One would think this would be good news for us as we hope to adopt her. However, the A’s (in name only evidently) lawyer now views this as a reason to remove only the father from the chain of people who should get custody of A. The lawyer now favors the Aunt…the same Aunt that expressed shock A was in foster care in the first place after nobody visited her for over 7 months while she was in the hospital. This is the same aunt who refuses to sign a service agreement that she will follow the court orders from last time, and the same aunt that was court ordered, like the dad, to make family visits and attend doctor’s visits so as to understand the medical situations.

Social services is rather livid with the lawyer as are we, but foster parents have NO rights. A’s social worker is trying to get social services lawyer involved, and it could get messy at the Dec court date. We’ll see.

If the court take A. from our home to put her in a home where she won’t get competent medical care, I don’t know that we will do foster care again. We’ve said we can deal with it if a kid dies. We will have done everything in our power…but why take part in a broken system that hurts those we come to care about and love?

Picture from the top:

On the plus side, I did not put this hat on her. She kept pointing up at the coat rack until I realized what she wanted and gave it to her. It made for a fitting last picture to be taken on that camera as we now have a new one.
Finaly made posting comments open for all.

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Our Family's Stories of Growing Up

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