Dinner Baby, Sleep, Elise Saying

Clark is eating breakfast and dinner now. We've been feeding him dinner for maybe a week or so. He's a hungry little guy!

Also, Clark slept in his bassinet for two hours last night! Yay! He woke up around 1:30 am and I wouldn't nurse him, which made him very mad but he did go to sleep eventually. Power through! He'll get the message soon enough! And when he does I can sleep sleep sleep through the night.

And now for the latest Elisey-ism:

Whenever we arrive at the grocery store Elise asks, "Elise can walk?" because she doesn't like riding in the cart anymore. Well, this weekend we stopped at the grocery store just long enough for Husband to run in and grab some cat food. We told the kids as we drove through the parking lot that only Daddy would be going inside.

As we all waited in the car for Husband to come back, Elise asked me, "Elise can walk?"

"Elise, we aren't going inside. We're waiting here. Daddy will be right back."

Pause.

"Elise can walk?"

"We aren't going in."

"Elise can walk?"

"Walk where, Elise?"

"THE GROUND, MOMMY!"

Duh, Mommy.

Time to Train

Clark has been sleeping in our bed throughout the night ever since he got chicken pox. Sick babies need their mommies and mommies need to cuddle their sick babies. But then I never went back to putting him in his bassinet. He just stayed in bed with us.

Ugh. I know better. He's my second biological baby, after all. How did I let this happen?

The thing is that when they're really little and you know they're going to wake up anyway, it's just SO easy to pop a boob in their mouth and let everyone fall back to sleep quickly. You have to get up every few hours no matter what, so might as well make the duration of the times awake as short as possible, right? But now Clark is old enough that he can sleep though the night, and I need to get him on that path. He's used to waking up every few hours and getting a boob shoved in his face, which gives him comfort and lets him fall back asleep. He doesn't eat a full meal, he just nurses for a few seconds and drifts back off again. It's a habit, not a necessity. And I need to break him of that habit. I want to sleep for longer than two hours uninterrupted. It's time.

We've been working on sleep training for the past few nights. Tonight will be the fourth night, I think. So far the rules are that Clark has to stay in his bassinet for at least one hour, whether he's sleeping or crying, starting from the time we go to bed AND no nursing from midnight until 2 am. Clark actually slept in his bassinet for about 2 1/2 hours last night. Woohoo! Hopefully that was not just a fluke but a new standard. We'll see how tonight goes.

Vulva Ears

Henry had a bracelet on yesterday. He was trying to tell me something and the word he was saying sounded like "oval." I'm 99% sure that's not what he was saying but sometimes I intentionally mishear the kids, say the word I wish they had said, and then praise them for using that word. Positive reinforcement. Then they're more likely to use that word again to get the praise. It's a little vocab building technique I like to use every once in a while.

So, Henry said his mumbly word and I said, "Oval?" Henry mumbled again and again I said, "Oval?"

But then Elise mishears me and says, "Vulva hole? Vulva hole, Mommy?"

"What! No. Oval."

"Vulva hole! Hahahahahaha! Vulva hole! Hahahahahahahaha!"

THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID! What the flipdoodle?! I would never say "vulva hole." Ugh! Elise hears vulvas and penises in everything. She's had genitalia on the brain lately, too, because she recently asked me if our cat Vincent has a "teeny penis."

Please, please, please just let her not say "vulva hole" in public in front of strangers. Please.

Baby Girls' Hair-- Combs

My girls' hair is on two different ends of the texture spectrum. Elise's hair is straight, thin, and fine. Georgia's hair is kinky and coarse. I'm just now figuring out that I can't use the same tools and products on both of their hair. This is a big revelation for me because, as I've mentioned before, I've hardly ever given much thought to styling hair, including even my own hair. Other than to dye my hair bright colors during my late teens and early 20s... but that was less about hair and more about asserting control over my own body and advertizing my independence. How did I go from "screw you, status quo! I'm in art school-- now I'm going to draw pictures of all of society's failings!" to passing my state's bar exam and then quitting my job to raise a pile of children all in less than 10 years? It was a slippery slope, indeed.

I digress.

Anyhow, hair.

Georgia's mom gave her this little baby hair brush set a while ago. A brush with bristles so soft that it had zero effect on Georgia's hair and a comb with lots of tiny little teeth. I should have realized that if the brush was not right for her hair, maybe the comb wasn't right for her hair either. But I assumed the opposite. "Oh, this must be the kind of comb you use on coarse, curly hair," I thought. I have hairs fall out when I brush my own hair, so I assumed that the little hairs that would come out when I combed Georgia's hair were totally normal.

Nope! I was damaging her hair. Breaking it. Within the past month I discovered that I should be using a wide-toothed comb on Georgia's hair. Coarse and kinky hair like hers is very fragile and it easily snags and breaks. Elise's wispy little hairs need a comb with narrow teeth, but Georgia's hair needs a comb that can gently detangle it.

So now we have Elisey combs and Gigi combs. The big comb works so much better on Georgia's hair. Glad we got that figured out.

What Is Wrong With You People?

As if on cue, right after posting about child abuse, Husband and I called the cops tonight on some stranger we saw hurting a little kid. We were driving away from a business we'd just left when we see a lady dragging this kid out by the collar of his shirt. You know, bad form. But we've all been there. For all I know the kid just spit in her face or something.Then she slams the kid up against a railing along a walk way. She slams him again and again and again. Yikes, right? She slaps him. Now I'm thinking "Holy crap." Then she grabs his collar again and spins him across the walk way and throws him into the opposite railing. That was pretty much when I realized that this definitely needed to be reported.

The kid wasn't resisting the lady. He was just sort of cowering. Crying. But not trying to fight her in a way that could lead to me maybe misinterpreting the situation. She was bullying him and he was taking it. If that's what she does in public, I can't even imagine what she does in the privacy of their home.

I wonder if the cops went to the business in time to find them. I wonder if the kid got in more trouble with that lady some how because the cops showed up. I wonder if that lady is already being watched for child abuse and the kid is going to get taken away from her.

That poor little kid. I wish he could know that someone saw what's happening to him and that it's not okay for someone to hurt him like that.

Clark's First Tooth!

Clark got his first tooth today! Bottom right. That explains his little bit of fussiness lately.

Babies look so different once they start getting teeth. I wonder how Clark will look with chompers.

Horrible Statistic

I just heard on the radio that a child dies of abuse or neglect in the US an average of every 5 hours. DIES. That's crazy.

Henry was almost one of those children. Henry, who is so sweet and kind that he brings Baby Clark his favorite toy cars to play with, could have died a year and a half ago.

The hearing regarding the termination of Henry's mother's parental rights is scheduled for mid-July. The State wants to terminate her rights to Henry and Susannah. Three months. A lot can happen in three months...

Butternut Squash, Reverse Crawl

* Clark had butternut squash for the first time yesterday. He liked it! Avocado and butternut squash were Elise's favorite baby foods, too. It's weird, though, that Elise doesn't like either one of those foods now. Maybe little babies just like the blander foods, then as they grow they like sweeter and more savory foods. That's my theory.

* Clark figured out yesterday that while he's lying on his back he can bend his knees, dig his heels into the ground and push off, thereby sliding himself a considerable distance backwards. I call this his "reverse crawl."  It makes him very happy when he does it.

Kinda Famous

Georgia had a doctor's appointment the other day. Henry and Georgia go to a clinic with many doctors and nurse practitioners. Instead of Georgia's usual doctor we saw a nurse practitioner that I've never met before. A few minutes into the exam the nurse says to me, "You know, you're kind of famous around here."

Oh, really? The short redhead with four small children, two with light skin and two with brown skin, who drags her babies through your clinic every few weeks as they yell and careen off the walls is "famous around here"? I'll just bet.

"Oh, yeah? Because I have so many babies?"

"Not just that," she smiled, "but also you're so good with them. You do a great job."

Oh.

Cool.

Thanks.

I'm only writing this down so that on my crappiest of crap days when I feel like I must be the worst mom in the world I can remember that in one little microcosm of our community, I have at least successfully created the illusion that I have my shit together. And that's as good as it gets for a mom with four kids under four years old.

Still Not the Same

Well, my weight has been back at 115 for about a week now, but my body does NOT look the same as it did pre-babies. You know what? After raising four small children all day long, I'm way too tired to care. I'm going to drink a glass of chocolate milk, watch an episode of Mad Men on Netflix, and try not to think about my flabby belly.

It's Sad

Apparently Henry and Georgia's mom got the news recently that things aren't going so well for her case and it's looking unlikely that she'll get her kids back anytime soon, if ever. As I've said before, she's a very nice person. I feel so bad for her. I can't imagine someone telling me that I'm incapable of parenting my children. That they'd be better off living with someone else. There's no doubt that she loves her kids and wants to be with them. It's really, really sad.

We met the kids' grandma recently. Their mom's mom. She was there during a visit we had with their older sister, Susannah. I'll call this grandma Granny B. Well, Granny B seems nice and very friendly. Of course, this is simply our first impression of her. There was a time in her life when she made some poor choices and had her own kids removed from her and placed in the foster care system. Granny B got her kids back, though. Henry and Georgia's mom was in foster care while she was growing up, and now her own kids are in foster care. It's a terrible cycle. I just hope that the cycle can be broken for Susannah, Henry, Georgia, Eve, and the new baby. I hope that they all can be given better opportunities, a stronger support system, and more positive role models than their mother and their grandmother had.

Clark Update

Clark has been kind of cranky lately. I think he's teething. I don't feel sharp little bumps under his gums like the teeth are about to break through, but I feel big bumps where his bottom front teeth must be starting to push up. Thank God we don't remember what it's like to teethe because it seems like a terrible experience.

Also, he's gotten really good at spinning around in circles on the floor. He can roll all over the place now, of course, but he also gets on his tummy and then pulls himself in one direction or another with his arms so that his belly stays stationary but his head and feet spin circles. He's getting more and more mobile.

Lessons; A Little Hole

#1

Today I got the kids all signed up for their summer lessons. Swim lessons for everyone! Yep, even Baby Clark. And gymnastics for the big kids. Fun, fun, fun, busy, busy, busy.

#2

Tonight as I was diapering Elise she reached down and touched her bottom.

"Mommy! What's that, Mommy? A little hole!"

I was being distracted by another one of the kids. "Hmm?"

"A little hole down there, Mommy! What is that?"

"That's where your poo poo comes out."

"Oh! I have a little hole for poo poo! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

Thanks for noticing. Now go sanitize your hands.

1940 Census

The results of the 1940 census are now available online. I know you've all been waiting for them to be released. Genealogy nerds.

I found family on both my mother's and my father's side. Pretty cool. There were some interesting tidbits of information in the answers to the questions that the census-takers asked of my family. For example, my grandparents rented their suburban home for a whopping $50 per month in 1940. And that was one of the pricier homes in the neighborhood.

Of course, lover of names that I am, I browsed around. Found some cool ones. Cole Cole. Olive Almond. Brown Freeman. A lady named Edgar Mae. A man whose first name was Mt. Vernon. I love it.

The link to the 1940 census is here

You kind of need to know the street name where the person you're looking for lived at the time. You can't look people up by name.

Tax Return Fraud; It's Not A Big Deal

#1

Someone else has claimed one or both of the foster kids as dependents on their tax return. Bastards! The kids have lived with us for over a year, so there is NO WAY it is an innocent mistake. Basically, this is going to delay our tax return. We'll have to provide proof that the kids live with us and also that we take care of them-- the guardianship letter from the State and a doctor's bill or day care bill or something like that.

I'm so annoyed. A family member could be claiming them. Someone could have sold their social security numbers so that another person can claim them as dependents (this is a popular thing to do as of late, apparently). Or someone could have stolen the numbers somehow. Who knows.

Grrrr.

#2

Tonight as I was tucking Elise into bed she pinched me.

"Ow, Elise!"

"Happy Mommy?"

"No. I'm sad."

"Angry?"

"No. Sad. When you hurt me on purpose it makes me sad. It makes me feel like I want to cry."

Her voice got super sweet. "Oh, Mommy." (pause) "I love you, Mommy."

Yes! I got through to her, I think to myself. And then...

"It's not a big deal, though, Mommy."

"It is a big deal. It makes me sad when you hurt me."

"No, Mommy. It's not a big deal. Just... um... just eat something. Spaghetti. Yeah. Eat some spaghetti, Mommy. Go."

Great. My two year old is encouraging me to be an emotional eater.

Not Funny, Brain!

I keep having dreams that I'm pregnant. Every few days. Super vivid dreams. I can feel the baby moving or feel contractions or whatever is going on in the dream. There always comes a point where I'm suddenly like "No. Wait. How did this happen? I have an IUD. I can't be pregnant. But I am. Oh shit."

Did I say "dreams"? I mean "nightmares."

Dear Baby Jesus... (I'm not religious... I don't know how this works. Is it okay to pray to a baby to make sure you don't have any more babies? Why would I talk to a baby about this, anyway?) Dear middle-aged Jesus-- the older, responsible Jesus with a good job and health insurance and a 401k and appropriate family planning practices-- please don't put any more babies in my uterus. Four small children is pretty much my maximum saturation point. So while the dreams are cute and kind of funny, please cut the crap. If you want to give me dreams about babies, make them dreams with tips on how to style Georgia's hair or some kid-friendly recipes or new ways to organize their closets. Not trying to tell you how to do your job, but I'm just saying that I think we could make better use of your time and mine. Amen.

New Bathing Arrangements

Clark has been taking his baths in the kitchen sink. He's too big for our baby bathtub, which is what Elise used until well after she could sit up on her own. Clark can't sit up on his own yet, but he's way too big to lay down in the baby tub. Now I sit him in the sink and it's small enough and deep enough that he can stay upright without too much of my support.

Clark loves sitting in the water in the sink. He splashes like CRAZY and grabs at the faucet. Soon he'll be too big for the sink, too, so he'd better learn to sit up on his own before too much longer so that I can start bathing him in the regular bathtub. Man. Having a big baby creates strange and unforeseen logistical problems.

P.S. Cute thing that Georgia said today: she saw a lizard and excitedly shouted, "Dinosaur!!!" I didn't correct her.

New Sleeping Arrangements

The crib that Georgia had been sleeping in is now in the trash. So long, crib, you served us well for many years! It was a drop side crib, so we figured that it was time to get rid of it. (As you may know, they are no longer considered safe.) Elise never slept in a crib and neither will Clark, so we won't be replacing it. We only got that crib because foster parents licensed to care for babies have to have one, but we don't have babies anymore, we have toddlers.

We moved Henry's toddler bed into the girls' room and now Elise and Georgia both have toddler beds. Henry is now sleeping in a twin sized bed in his room. Musical baby beds! Except for Clark. Clark is still sleeping in our bed with us.

Food, DNA, etc

* Clark had applesauce for the first time two days ago. He liked the first few bites, then he started making faces every time he'd eat a spoonful. He's still not super enthusiastic about it. Clark is not as eager about eating solid foods as Elise was. You'd think the opposite, given his size.

* Elise loves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She'd eat them every day for lunch if I weren't constantly redirecting her desires. Today I decided we'd have a slightly more mature pb&j sammie. We had peanut butter and apple slices in a pita pocket. Yum! Then I got a great idea and for my second sandwich I put peanut butter, honey, and banana slices in the pita pocket. Oh my god. I'm never eating anything else again.

* My DNA test kit arrived yesterday. That was fast! I'll be putting my spit in the mail this afternoon.

* Elise's latest baby song remix, sung this morning while she was lying on my bed (to the tune of Five Little Monkeys): "One little monkey peeing in the bed..."

Medicaid Miracle

Henry's medicaid problems have finally been cleared up! Yay! And now we have referrals to see SEVERAL different kinds of specialists-- an audiologist, an ENT, and a neurologist. I'm so excited. Of course, as they are specialists, the soonest appointment is still over a month away... but it's progress!

Taxes, Etc.

* Holy cow. Four dependents this year (we get to claim the foster kids because they lived with us for the whole year). That makes a big difference on our tax return. Wowzers.

* Henry calls Elise something that sounds like "Edith." He kind of says "Eee-dah." I don't know how he got that out of "Elise"... but Elise answers to it.

* Today at lunch Husband asked Elise what she did this morning. "I kick ladies." She accidentally swung her legs into some women today while she was rolling around on the floor at the library. Of course, Husband didn't know the whole story so it was funny let him sit with that for a minute. "You kicked ladies?" "Yes. I kick ladies. Mmm-hmmm." "Um... Mommy? Was Elise kicking people this morning?..."

Peekaboo

Clark started playing peekaboo on his own yesterday. He grabbed a blanket that was in his lap and pulled it up over his head, so I said, "Where's Clark?" He pulled the blanket back down off of his face and burst into a fit of giggles. So cute. He played that game forever. And he did it several more times during the day, so it wasn't just a fluke.

Babies are so awesome when they begin to become interactive.

DNA

I'm so excited I'm going to pee my pants.

I just ordered a DNA test thingy to "discover my genetic ancestry." You know-- those services that test your DNA, compare it to world populations, and tell you where most of your genetic matches are from.

I've been wanting to do this for years. Literally years. See, I tend not to frivolously spend money on myself. It's just not my style. There are a million more useful things that I could spend that $200+ on... but I've wanted it for so long. About 6 months ago I decided that I would in fact order a kit and pay for the analysis. I decided I would do it and Husband even encouraged me, but I never actually made the order. And then somehow waiting to do it became as much fun as actually doing it. You know what I mean? Delaying the satisfaction of actually ordering the testing kit became a reward in and of itself.

Well, I got past that. I just ordered my DNA ancestry kit.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPP!!!

I'm so excited!

Easter 2012

They loved it! Yay!

Easter Tomorrow!

This year, the Easter Shark is visiting the kids. Last year the Easter Bat brought them a delicious selection of fruit and pancakes for breakfast. But the Easter Shark is leaving them each a breakfast plate arranged to look like a small underwater scene. Cool Whip dyed with blue food coloring is the water, crushed graham crackers and yogurt covered raisins are the sea floor, strips of fruit leather are seaweed, and there is an octopus made with a mini pancake, strips of french toast sticks for legs, and a painted-on face made of chocolate sauce. Yes! I just did a test plate and it was perfect for a toddler.

Also, they'll each get a bag of colored goldfish crackers for later in the day.

Screw candy and eggs. They don't like hard boiled eggs, so I'm not going to waste my time. And they don't need candy. The whole point of Easter when you're a little kid is waking up to a surprise. Surprise! Awesome breakfast waiting for you! You'll want to eat the whole thing, kids! No gross licorice jelly beans or bunnies made of nasty chocolate to ruin the fun!

I told Elise the Easter Shark was visiting tonight and he would leave her a present. I asked her what a shark might leave her to eat. "Fish?" So I said, "Maaaaaaaaybeeeeeee! We'll see tomorrow!"

Boob Update

The night after my second boob attack, I stayed awake from about 11:30 until 1 in the morning forcing milk out of my blocked milk duct. By the time I went to bed, I couldn't really feel any hard spots anymore. I also couldn't really feel my hands anymore, they were so tired. I decided that if there were any hard places when I woke up in the morning and/or if I still felt like I was on the verge of death, I would go to the doctor. Fortunately, I woke up a little sore and tender, but otherwise a-okay.

I think I was maybe a bit dehydrated. Also, I was sick with a head cold and Clark was sick so I had Clark's germs filling up my boobies, plus he was eating less. And there are several stressful things going on in my life right now. It was pretty much the perfect storm for creating boob dysfunction. Any one of those issues can cause your boobs to go haywire, but I had all of that stuff going on. I'm just lucky that my boobs haven't staged a protest and decided to stop working altogether.

I need to take better care of myself. I'm realizing this now.

Clark's 6 Month Check Up

Clark had his 6 month check up today. He's 28 inches tall (95th percentile) and weighs 20 lbs 5 oz (94th percentile). He took his 3 shots like a champ! A little yell when he was getting stuck, but he was perfectly okay after that. What a brave little man!

Half Way to Birthday!

Happy 6 month birthday, Baby Clark!

I can't BELIEVE it's been 6 months already! Taking care of small children makes you feel like you have some sort of memory disorder-- time seems all distorted and even though you know you lived through the whole experience it feels like you weren't present enough or aware enough to have properly absorbed it all.

My happy little ball of fluff. My chubby little cubby. I love you so much, Clark.

When I remembered that today is Clark's 6 month birthday, I cried. I think I have a problem with that.

To celebrate Clark's birth, I baked some cookies... and everyone got to eat them except for Clark. Ha. But we sang to him. He liked that. Then he got to watch us eat cookies and Cool Whip. Thanks for being born, little guy!

Plugged Duct Again

What a miserable experience. Last night I went to bed around midnight and thought to myself as I laid down, "Huh. My left breast kind of hurts." I woke up an hour later in crazy pain. Plugged duct again. It was awful. Is awful. I'm still sick.

I have the best husband in the world. If you have a husband, you might think that yours is pretty awesome. But mine is the best. Really, he is. Husband got up with me at 1 a.m. and stayed awake with me, rubbing my back, icing me down (I was having hot and cold flashes again), constantly refilling my water glass, bringing me Advil (I had a terrible headache and a fever over 102 degrees), drawing me a bath, and just generally providing me moral support. I was shaking like crazy. It was bad. Husband was great.

This time, I could barely express anything. My breast wasn't all full like it was the first time. Just one spot, right in the middle toward the back of my breast was blocked. I still can't get it all out. It HURTS.

I slept a lot today. Husband stayed home and did most of the baby wrangling. I'm super weak. I hope I can get this duct unblocked soon. It seriously messes me up when this happens.

To Further Make My Point

Foster children are eligible for Medicaid. This is good because then the foster parents don't have to worry about medical bills or covering the cost of prescriptions. The downside is the craptastic quality of most of the healthcare providers... but that's a rant for another day.

There are different kinds of Medicaid that cover different things, but foster children are supposed to have the kind that covers the most stuff. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Henry's Medicaid coverage got all messed up. Despite being their guardians, foster parents can't change their foster children's Medicaid info or switch their level of coverage-- someone in Case Manager's office has to do it for us. So aside from not being able to mess Henry's Medicaid info up, I also can't fix other people's mistakes. I can't just call up Medicaid and say, "Please fix this error," but instead I have to wait for someone else who doesn't give a crap about Henry to decide to do their job.

Henry needs ear tubes and his Medicaid coverage was all messed up so we couldn't get a referral to a specialist who can do the procedure. I notified the foster care system of the problem and then I waited. And waited. And waited. Many phone calls and emails later-- we're talking MONTHS later-- I finally get word that his Medicaid has been switched back to the proper level of coverage. Yay!

So I called Henry's doctor's office today, spoke to some administrator or another, explained the situation, and asked if we can get a referral to a specific ear, nose, and throat doctor that I want to work with. I'm all excited. Happy. What a relief!

Then the administrator tells me that, yes, Henry's Medicaid level was switched...

BUT

whoever handled the paperwork put the wrong doctor down. They listed some doctor who isn't even located in our CITY as Henry's primary care physician.

What the f-ing f-bomb?

So not only can I not get a referral to an ear, nose, and throat doctor right now, HENRY CAN'T EVEN BE SEEN BY HIS PEDIATRICIAN!!! Medicaid won't cover it. And he has a doctor's appointment next week. Ha! I can't believe this. I went from not being able to see a specialist to not being able to see a doctor at all.

Do you see why I'm burned out on the foster care system?

Relicensing

Husband and I are in the middle of getting our foster care license renewed. It's a gigantic pain in the butt. Home visits, inspections, fingerprinting, and paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. After everything gets settled with Henry and Georgia, we'll probably take a break from fostering. I'm getting pretty burned out with regard to dealing with "the system." Having four small children is hard enough. Having one with developmental delays complicates things. But then having all of these extra adults I have to deal with-- most of whom are too lazy to do their job properly or in a timely manner-- and have to beg to get anything done for my foster kids is enough to make me feel like I must be a lunatic.

Have you seen this (fake) article in The Onion where Obama asks a crowd at a rally "why on God's green earth would I voluntarily subject myself to this nonsense for another four years?" That's kind of how I (not fake) feel. Being a foster parent is something that I feel is good, something I believe in, and something that I am proud to be a part of. It's just all of these other jokers that are part of the same system that make the whole experience something between unpleasant and unbearable.

There are a bunch of court dates scheduled for this month. Hopefully we'll start getting some idea of what will be going on with the kids soon.