roztime!

I’m feeling a bit melancholy today.  Chalk it up to this incessant rain, not getting out at all this week (as in, with a friend and sans baby - i’ve gone on errands, sure, but with two kids in tow etc etc wah wah wah), finding the balance between fostering, church commitments, & marriage difficult, or that old friend Night-Feedings.

Yes, I realize this is not new to mothers. But it still sucks.

Perhaps I’ve bitten off more of the proverbial (and oddly nameless) food than i can chew, maybe I don’t really need to be running an entire vacation bible school at the same time as all the rest, maybe we should have adopted rather than fostered, maybe it’s too much with two kids, maybe i should go back to work.  Perhaps then I would be the old wonderful housewife me, who would have dinner waiting in the clean house with my adorable (adopted) toddler playing quietly in the back room.  Instead, I’ve stuck myself trying to play all these roles that I don’t seem to be able to excel at any of them.  You know, where you finally manage to do one part right (a vbs prep night that i was totally prepared for! stuff got done!!) but only to discover another major part you left to go horribly wrong (when, exactly, was the last time i actually made a meal??).

But now I’m in too far to quit any of them, and I’m not sure that’s what God wants me to do: that it would be an unwise decision to do so.  I’ve committed to continuing with the youth group for at least another year/term (we slow in the summer, which is good right now), committed to running this vbs that is very much (at least about to be soon) off the ground & running, committed to fostering at least until Maria leaves, and duh, committed to being married (we just celebrated our 5 yr last week).

So now what? I suppose I keep at it, trying to keep my priorities right, relying on God for help (wow do i ever do that a lot these days), etc etc.  I feel like I’m on the right track - that there are so many moments where I feel God takes my small efforts and turns it big (like with vbs especially - I’m still awed by how everything’s turning up millhouse when really? I’m so lax at organizing it at all), that it would be remiss of me to claim I’ve taken on too much responsibility… right?

I don’t worry about looking after J.Bean, mostly because I find it so much easier to deal with two than one. Which is crazy, but not really - my good friend the megster says it was the same with her new daughter. That you stress less about the fussy baby because you simply can’t - there are other things to attend to, like trying to avoid the favourite stuffed animal from being the next chew toy, or continually turning off all the toddler height lights that mysteriously are on even though no one has been on this floor yet today…

And yet, there is reason to be happy - my mother just invited me to my favourite indie coffeeshop, i have a costco date with a friend later on while Baby is at access, Baby has access…

yes. it has happened. i have become, the uber bitch.

chalk it up to the consistent lack of sleep (yes, i am complaining about that. because when it’s your kid? you do it out of love. when it’s not? you’re just NUTS), the consistent fussiness of this baby, or me just being my bad self, but wow. you might want to stay away from this corner of the world for a while, kay?

(insert comment here about how i really could hurt the next person who takes THAT MANY drugs during their pregnancy. srsly. except, i actually like Maria’s mom. oi).

as in, tim? daneille? if you cancelled your vacay plans, or at least the part that includes me - i’d totally understand. if you cancel them because a sane person might not want to ‘vacation’ somewhere that summer is synonymous with ‘torrential downpour’, i’d also totally understand. when i book my one-way ticket to switzerland? i’m hoping you totally understand.

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the one person who has escaped my wrath so far, is the J.Bean. which is strange - you’d think i’d be so stressed out with the extra mess & activity that i’d be going postal, but oddly it’s the opposite.  Baby fussy? s’okay. dogs whining? s’okay. raining constantly? mm, maybe the one exception. but, mostly s’okay. J.Bean leaves, and it’s CHAOS. well, in my head anyway.

me and my cranky self like to honk at drivers. on the cell phone & driving? i honk. going so slow i could walk faster? i honk. simply pissing me off by existing? yep, i honk. i’d apologize, but, well… i’m not sorry.

sigh. i think i need a therapeutic shopping trip. to costco, of course.

(ooo and i’m still pining for a new camera. still saving team, still saving..)

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TEAM. mj died?? SRSLY? that’s just crazy. you know, i only just got a photo printed of Maria doing the thriller hands - you should see it, truly.  i think she’s lying on my mom, and the hands are up in thriller style.  it’s like she knew.

okay, so maybe not.

meh.

So (look, capitals again!), i’ve been looking after the J-Bean, a good friend’s 3 year old son these past few days.  Apparently, the woman trusts me enough to make this a weekly habit - hey, i never said she was sane. Just a good friend.  One could argue you’d have to be not sane to be a friend of the roztime…

Anyway. This kid is way fun. Totally well behaved, for anyone who’s thinking ‘but really? you can manage that?’. Which is to say, i can only manage it because i know there’s women out there who manage so much more - such as triplets, or even just friends who have more than one kid under 3 in the same house.  And hell, i didn’t even push these kids out of my va-hay-hay, so you know i have something good going on. Hello, non-baby hips.  You and i shall be best friends.

Today I asked J-Bean about his best friend, Cuddles. Cuddles (i know, my least favourite word) is a stuffed cat. He refers often to Cuddles, meaning you respond in kind - but what pronoun to give Cuddles?? Truly, how am i supposed to talk to this thing without knowing? Totally a crisis.

So I asked: Me: ‘J-Bean. Is Cuddles a boy or a girl?’

J-Bean: (giving me a look that basically says, wow, you ARE that stupid) ‘Cuddles, is a cat‘.

Great social worker i am.  Three years old and i’m already trying to instill gender norms in him.

Oops.

(Feel like diving deeper? Friend ‘o mine has some interesting musings about gender isentity, on a personal level, here).

HOLY HANNAH (which is totally my new favourite expression), have i been wanting to post for ages.  Not that i have anything particular to post about, just lots. of random ramblings. suckas.

SO. Maria had shots today.  7 weeks old, four immunizations under the belt; this child is a trooper.  And why is it when i am upset i laugh? Yes, ever the senstive parent, i laughed at Maria’s cries of pain.  Not because it was funny - its pretty upsetting, the pain cry, especially because i’ve never heard hers before - just my reaction to upsetting things i suppose.  (Okay, it was a little funny - seriously, that face was precious… ‘OMG OMG OMG WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG OMG WTF OMG OMG’).  I know, you’re never going to let your kids near me again. meh.

Does Costco sell cameras? Because i think i’m too anxious to wait til Christmas… when Baby might have left.

Not that i would know when she’s due to leave, since the child’s worker still doesn’t have the actual file, HAHAHA! Apparently i’m finding a lot of things funny these days :). 

No seriously, it’s totally what i expected.  I have no idea how the parents are doing in regards to jumping through the hoops they need to (around drug use), other than my own frequent interaction with them. As i said to another fp at my first (of many, because it was teh awesome) scrapbooking ’support group’ day - as a fp, Maria’s going home at the end of the summer to her bio-parents.  As an (ex) worker?  I’m hedging my bets this is going to turn messy by the end of the year, when it goes back to court.  I just don’t think you can go from complete addict to totally clean in the span of a few months; that’s not even touching on the rest of what the agency will require (ie stability, housing, support..). Mix in the drug effects on Baby, a lack of kin putting forth plans of any kind (that include Maria - there are some for sib), and you get trickiness.

For now at least?

Bring it on.

To spare you, i’ll continue my ramblings after the jump.. Read More

last night? was fun. if by fun you mean CRAMAZINGLY HORRIBLE.

Let’s talk about how it’s unwise to piss off a very, very sleep deprived foster parent (i’m not sure how that makes it worse. but it does. okay? good.) who is getting increasingly frustrated with baby crack effects.  (and if you’re about to say ‘but roz! you signed yourself up for this!’, i’m going to give you my bestest bitch ice look and tell you to SUCK IT).

At 10:30pm, after feeding Baby and doing all that baby stuff to get her to bed, i finally get myself to bed. I’m just falling asleep - which is a big deal, because i’ve become this uber light sleeper who takes ages to fall asleep -  when i hear loud noises from outside. Very loud noises. Noises that mean my rear neighbours, the one in that walk-up that i’d very much like to demolish, are having a big party.  In their parking lot. You know, the kind where you put your car stereo to the local crapop station and blast it to the high heavens, and then yell to each other over the music.  And don’t forget the dogs barking, that’s a requisite - getting more than one dog? Makes it epic. (oh. and make sure you’re doing this on a weeknight. Wednesdays are perfect).

Neighbours making the Crazy in their parking lot at night isn’t new; I figured I had lived through a few, i could do another.  But when I had all my windows shut (meaning no air flow with two dogs and a smelly ManCold), and i was still being woken up just at that falling asleep point? I decided i was going to give them until noise curfew, 11pm til I called the police.

Baby ended up waking at 11pm, but when i got back to bed at 12:30am and they were STILL GOING? I called. Yes, neighbours, that would be me making that noise complaint.  Because unlike you, some of us have JOBS. And actually manage to PARENT our children.  After all, someone has to pay for your welfare. (Oh. I went there.)

I managed to get to sleep. Baby woke up at 1:30am (yes, my life is this fun). I COULD STILL HEAR THE BUGGERS. Couple their extra loud horrifically terrible music with Baby’s uber fussiness, and you have one. pissed. off. roztime.  So I called again.

And you know what this officer said? ‘Oh. There’s no record on here of a noise complaint at 12am. Want me to create a new one?’.  Uh, YES. So he did. And from what I can gather, this one was actually followed up on.

I hung up, turned in the direction of my backyard (they’re over the fence), and did the best SUCKIT action I think I’ve ever done.

Then I went back to my still crying baby, where we enjoyed each other’s company screamed til 3am, and then got up at 4am to do it all over again.

But remember. We foster parents? Are totally in it for the money. (HAHAHA)

I was going to write a post about addictions - how i’m addicted majorly to Costco (no. really. like, i think of how i can next get there, how i’m going to save money to spend there, how much i love my card… and i’m so not seeking help for this), how my baby was addicted majorly to, well, lots. (and finally managed to be diagnosed with neonatal abstinence syndrome).

But then i wasn’t around a computer for a while, or at least a computer where i had two hands free (something that doesn’t seem to happen often at all).  And then Matt and i have been toying with some ideas, some of which would lead to big changes. and i’ve had to re-evaluate my stance on some things. Thinking how my trying to be happy with what i have (okay, i said trying) means that it’s harder to embrace any changes in what i have; if i’m so gung-ho on an idea or a concept that i’m selling it to friends and family, it makes it all the more difficult to eat humble pie and admit that yes, i’m also thinking of going down that road. damn.

Ah, i am being deliciously vague, and you can read into it however you feel like.  And no, i probably won’t explain what i’m talking about. Hate me yet? Good. MUA HAHAHAHA…

Now to do some laundry before bambino gets back from access and i’m back to feed/change/feed/change/feed/make more bottles/feed/change/POO OF THE CENTURY/feed/repeat ad  nauseam.