Wanted: One Sister

Aged seven

Named Trinity

I explained to the wonderful man that answered the phone, and with whom I engaged in a conversation about foster care, that The Boy's friend has a sister that fits this description.

"Well, perhaps I should give you the phone number for the local cloning laboratory," he laughed. "We've had a great deal of luck in that department."

I laughed, too.

I used this story merely as a way to break the ice.

I have always felt there was another child out there that needed me. I also realize that I am lucky to have The Boy and it is definitely fulfilling enough if that is the end of the road for me as a parent. I will be fine either way.

I have checked into W.endy's W.onderful Kids. These are the children that have been in the system the longest. They are mostly teenagers.

I have checked into foster care adoption. It is a long road. I am not finished researching this - in fact, I don't think I've even delved beneath the surface. The wonderful man made it clear to me that not many of the kids in his system that would actually be considered for permanent placement would be a good fit for our family due to our own limitations. I really am looking to adopt, not foster. At this time I don't think I am up to the challenge of the roller coaster that comes with waiting for the court to sever parental rights. While I agree with that philosophy, it does not fit with the goal of expanding my family.

And, of course, I have looked into domestic adoption. I told him that I would likely be considered too old for this category. He asked my age and pointed out that he'll find it out anyway, to which I replied, and he said, "Aw, you're just a kid."

I am in love.

Anyway, that's where we are at right now. I do not want to mess with our family dynamics - I feel it's important that The Boy remain the elder child. The Boy insists that he wants an older sister.

"Three year old sisters are a pain," he said to me.

So are six year old boys, at times, I thought.

Bringing up baby

MFH and I had very different upbringings.

My parents were very affectionate with each other and with us. I can count on one finger the number of times I remember getting a physical scolding from my parents. Not that I probably didn't deserve it more, but that wasn't how my parents disciplined us. My mom would raise her voice - though I wouldn't consider her a screamer - and all it took from my dad was a disapproving look or a threat. Our household was not neat as a pin - but we had a lot of quality family time and that is what I remember most.

MFH's mom was a screamer and a physical disciplinarian. She was quick tempered and strict. She would spend all night Friday cleaning house and the rest of the weekend bitch because she spent all Friday night cleaning. The kids were expected to be tidy, and if it wasn't up to her expectations, she would mess it up and they would do it over to her satisfaction. His father always worked two jobs and wasn't around a lot in the evening.

Our biggest differences of opinion arise in our parenting styles. I distress over this frequently. I am very tolerant of the little things, like squirming at the dinner table. I decided long ago to choose my battles carefully, so as to have some leverage when it came to the big stuff.

MFH is hard on the boy, much like his mother was with him. He is very intolerant of the little things, like squirming during dinner or board games. I attribute these things with six year old boys, while he thinks it is controllable behavior. He thinks The Boy's actions are deliberate and meant to push his buttons. While I do think The Boy is capable of that, I don't believe he spends his days conspiring ways to bug his dad.

Recently I was speaking to a friend that is working on her master's degree in counseling. She is MFH's aunt, so she was around to witness his upbringing. She told me that when we get angry, we resort to what we know - which is how our parents raised us.

Certainly we are all guilty of being too hard on our loved ones at times. Admittedly, I have regrets of my own when it comes to The Boy.

It's never been as important an issue to me as it is right now.

We are talking about adding to our family.

Dense

MFH's words; not mine.

My MIL called to say she would be in town tomorrow, and asked if she could spend the day with The Boy.

I reminded him - not without addressing the incident. We didn't call her to discuss it, because I figured it would be best to do so when it would hit home the hardest - when she wanted to spend time with him.

So he did.

He told her that she is not to discuss anything regarding the adoption story with our son.

"Oh!' she exclaimed. "I didn't realize that he didn't know."

That he is six years old and extremely bright, yet he didn't know his given name, didn't register with her?

Give me a break.

Overstepping boundaries

My MIL took my son on a little roadtrip yesterday. MFH's sister and her family are moving to Alaska for two years, and they brought all their worldly possessions to Wyoming to store. The Boy got to spend the day playing with his cousin, and that was great.

We met my in-laws for dinner last night to pick up The Boy. Right at the end of dinner, he said, "Mom, what is my real name?"

I said his name, of course.

"No, I mean my name in Guatemala."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Grandma! What was my name in Guatemala again?"

And she smiled, repeating what they had obviously talked about earlier.

In what world was that information hers to give?

I said, "We are leaving. Your name is -----. Let's go."

As adoptive parents, it is our responsibility to share his story, and we feed him as much as we want him to absorb at any one time. There are parts of his story that our parents know that we may never want him to be told. I have been sorry for a long time that we shared a lot of it with our families, and I would take it back if I could.

I wonder to whom else she has blabbed his story?

MFH needs to address this with her.

I am so angry.

You can lead a dog to water.....

but you can't make him swim.

Our old labs were like fish in the water. I vaguely remember MFH walking into the deep part of the river and we would call the yellow pup so he'd swim back and forth between us. The first time we got my black pup near the water, he took flight over the bank and never looked back.

We went camping last weekend, and I was really looking forward to getting the dogs to the water for the first time. How awful is that? They are 11 months old and have never been swimming. Of course, we didn't get them until mid-September, and there weren't many opportunities to hit the water between then and now.

This is how they looked.

We laughed our asses off.

Left scratching my head

I have set The Boy's summer schedule based on knowing that his grandmas were going to take care of him. It was one of the reasons they pushed for us to move here - they would be able to spend more time with him and, when I went to work outside the home, take care of him for the summer sans daycare.

So - he has gymnastics on Wednesdays for one month. He has golf on Tuesday and Thursday for two months. He starts swimming later this month, Monday through Thursday, for six weeks. We have a day camp for one week, and a hockey camp for one week, both in August. I have found a summer lunch in the park program where the kids eat and have story hour, twice a week, near my mom's house.

Too much?

Perhaps.

Friday is completely free every week. That day his cousin wants to come and play. She is ten. I asked my MIL if she would come to the house that day to supervise. I also asked her to take any other day of the week to spend with him. They live 30 miles away from us, and I didn't expect her to drive in more than two days a week. My mom will take him the other three days. Since my mom is 78 years old, I wanted to break up the week so she isn't overtired. I thought we were all set.

Until this weekend.

I couldn't get my MIL to commit. In fact, she flat out said that she figured the cousin and The Boy would be fine here alone all day on Fridays. SHE IS 10 YEARS OLD. Are you freakin' kidding me? Am I over reacting? I don't feel she is old enough to be in charge of my son all day. If I had suggested that idea, I would have expected my MIL to go postal on me. She didn't offer to spend any other days with him. I finally dropped it.

Today MFH called her and tried again. He got the same thing. As he dug, though, he got to the root of the problem. My in-laws have an almost 15 year old shitzu dog that they won't leave home alone. They have to carry him everywhere and he can't be left inside or outside all day. Because he pees all over the floor, I don't really want him here.

When my old black lab was getting up there, I recall how she told me to "let him go with dignity and hang onto the good memories". How "I shouldn't be selfish and keep him around when he was suffering". The only difference I can see between my old black lab and her dog is that I couldn't carry my lab around, so I had no choice but to let him go.

And is it anybody else's place to give such advice anyway? I hate to even think how she would have unleashed on me if I had dared to say such a thing to her. The difference is that I never would tell anyone when it was time to end their dear pet's life.

I am frustrated and hurt that she has placed her dog's care above that of her grandson.

He made the grade

We are on a break

The Boy played his last T-Ball game last night.

I shouldn't even call it T-Ball, because half way through the season my brother, who assisted MFH with coaching, started pitching to the kids. Once they got a taste of that, there was no going back to hitting the ball off the tee.

The Boy is all about the uniforms and gear that athletes wear, yet I was unable to get him into a pair of baseball pants. I found that odd. He couldn't explain it, he just refused to wear them. Maybe because they are an odd blend of polyester, in which case I say he has excellent taste.

Anyway, baseball is over.

As gas quickly approaches $4.00 a gallon, we welcome this reprieve from running The Boy to sporting events two or three times a week.

All eyes on us

I can count on one finger the number of presidential candidates that have campaigned in Montana in my voting lifetime.

Prior to this election, that is.

We have been blessed with Mr. O.bama twice in the past two weeks, and Mrs. O.bama just left here today.

Mr. C.linton graced us with his presence twice in two weeks, Mrs. C.linton was here last week, and Chelsea was here a few days ago.

I don't pretend to know a lot about how it works, but apparently we have eight super-delegates, five of whom had not committed to either candidate until this evening.

By now you all know how that turned out.

It's nice to see our votes count.