What kind of harassment is this?

So G is leaving tonight for a meeting. For the last two days he has been at home maybe a total of 4 hours. He spent the night in the office last night working on his poster. Then this morning I dropped Z off with him for maybe 10 minutes so he could (1) see her and (2) give her a bottle while I got my computer out of my office and prepare to work at home for the day.

A professor (not G's advisor, but a different professor, who shall remain nameless) came in and said, "So, G, are you still a Ph.D. student?"

G replied in the affirmative. The professor said, "Looks like another kind of work to me."

I am fuming! I am barely holding myself back from sending this pompous a$$ a nasty e-mail. I don't think it would be at all helpful to G if I did that. Neither would it be helpful to me, as I have to work with this professor occasionally.

If G were a woman taking a 10 minute break to nurse a baby, this kind of harassment would be illegal, I am pretty sure. But for a father, I am not sure what kind of harassment it is or whether it is illegal. All I know is that it is so, so wrong.

Not a booger (I swear)

So just to catch you all up ...

After last week's stress at work, I got a little cold. I kicked its booty with lots of zinc and my favorite remedy. No sick days, thank you very much. I am tough.

On Saturday I folded 8 loads of laundry. Two that never got folded last week (thank you G for intending to finish the laundry for me last week). I also sorted through all the boys' clothes to make sure they only have seasonally appropriate, non-stained, non-ripped, clothing that actually fits them in their drawers. This included hemming up three pair of cutoffs and some sleeves that S chewed through when he was a kindergartener. Yeah, he's still a little oral. Anyway. I also cleaned bathrooms and made the snacks below.

Somehow, all of this decided to manifest itself in a ginormous zit on the edge of my nostril. You know the kind that kind of glows and throbs so you feel like you're walking around with a flashing light on your face?

Even when I put makeup on it, it still looks pretty suspicious. Once I read a very clever definition of naivete: the condition wherein you think that if you put concealer on your zits, no one will see them. Wish I could remember where to credit that one.

So all three boys (even the thirtysomething one, to be clear) are repeatedly asking me if I want a Kleenex. It's so charming. Next week they can just fold their own darn laundry.

A treatish snack

The same boy who broke my new digital camera so I have to use cell phone pictures again? He is the one who requested "a treatish snack." I dreamed up these.

Treatish Turtles

12 oz chocolate chips
1 c roasted, salted peanuts, plus a few for decoration
3 graham crackers

Break the graham crackers in fourths along the perforations (I don't know what else to call those!). Then cut each rectangle in half so you have 24 little grahamy squares. Place them on parchment or wax paper.

Melt your chocolate chips in the microwave, initially for 1 minute, and then for 30 seconds at a time until you can stir them smooth. Stir in the peanuts, except for 24 you are saving for decoration.

Scoop the chocolate and peanut mixture onto the graham crackers. A 1 tbsp scoop is ideal for this.

Decorate with a peanut on top of each.

Good luck letting these cool before you eat them all. Hey, they have peanuts and graham crackers. That is snack food. The chocolate is the only treatish part.

Lull and tutus

We are in a lull at work. Tox screen results may be back Friday, and then we'll see what happens.

I learned how to say "tox screen" instead of the long and unwieldy "toxicology screening" from my favorite show. I think maybe it makes me sound more experienced than I am in working with news about dead teenagers, which is of course not experienced at all except for this one story, now. Which has consumed virtually every waking moment since Sunday afternoon, and a few moments before that. I am not made for grief. It wears me out.

Anyway in this lull my boss encouraged me to take an afternoon off. So I have been photographing tutus and posting them in my new online shop on etsy.com.

You would think I would be done talking about tutus, a year later. But I still had all these in my garage and you know, I don't think Z is going to be able to use quite all of them. And I put some money in supplies and still would like to think perhaps I could break even. Perhaps.

That's all I've got for ya today.

I can't say

I can't say I resent how work is sucking up my life right now. And actually I really don't. I regret not being with my kids, but you know what, I will see them sleeping, breathing in their beds tonight. And right now I am working to try to help absorb some of the impact (media impact, namely) for some parents who won't ever have that joy again.

We lost a student over the weekend. It's such a sad time.

Working for the weekend

This weekend, here is what I need to do:

• Laundry
• Bathrooms
• Groceries
• Filing
• Taxes

Sounds fulfilling, doesn't it?

No wonder I can't get started. I have four episodes of House on DVD and basket of knitting calling my name right now.

Yep, this is what I bust my butt for all week long. That relaxing weekend time.

Speaking of which, when I came home from work today, the kids were in time out for dumping two huge Rubbermaid bins of summer clothes on their bedroom floor, the baby was wailing to be fed, and the smell of burned Costco pizza was in the air. Just wanted to give you a little mental picture there.

I have decided there are three simple things that would make my life a lot better. I really think they are not too much to ask. This list is as follows:

• Big, nice house
• Nanny
• Housekeeper

See, I am a simple girl ...

Somehow we got this ball ...

By default, I guess.

My in-laws are having their 50th wedding anniversary later this spring. G is almost the baby of the family and we kind of expected some of the older and better established siblings (read: wealthier siblings) to take the ball and run -- to organize some kind of get-together. Not so. Kind of surprising.

But maybe this is for the best. Now we can get things started and organize a party close to home. It makes sense, since the place my in-laws lived as newlyweds was -- TA-DAH! -- San Francisco, two hours away from us.

Dare I hope we can control this? Get all these fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants mad-scientist physics types and busy grown-ups with teenagers to actually come together on a planned event that they are not in charge of? Scary.

Also that we can avoid paying for plane fare to Montana or Alaska or driving to Arizona, and going through the process of trying to get a court order to travel out of state with Z?

And there are some gorgeous big beach houses near San Francisco that we could get into if everybody pitched in. (I was going to link them but then you might take them for your family reunion!)

It seems almost too good, now that I think of it this way. We'll just pray for buy-in.

Adventures with curry paste

The latest issue of Everyday Food had this great spicy kebab recipe, which we had for Sunday dinner today with some brown rice and a sort of peanut-dressed Asian slaw. Yum.

Spicy Beef Kebabs
1/4 c honey
1/4 c brown sugar
1/4 c soy sauce
2 tbsp rice vinegar
1 tbsp red curry paste (mae ploy)

10 oz beef sirloin cut in 1-inch cubes
1 can pineapple chunks
1 onion, cut in eighths, layers separated

Heat broiler; soak skewers.

Mix all top ingredients into a sauce.

Thread beef, pineapple and onions onto skewers. Place on jellyroll pan lined with parchment or foil. Brush with sauce. (Reserve remaining sauce for dipping, garnishing with sesame seeds or hot pepper flakes.)

Broil 7-8 minutes, until beef is medium and onions begin to char.

And a bonus recipe ...

Pineapple Lemonade
Juice from 1 can of pineapple
1/2 c lemon juice
1 c sugar
Ice and water to make 1 gallon

Stir to combine.

P.S. We've accepted an offer on our condo for $5100 above our asking price. Wow!

Sugar House reel

So we still own our sweet, odd little condo in the Sugar House neighborhood of Salt Lake. You know ... the one that almost killed us our first year here with the three different deals that fell through? Which caused us to not rent it out, and pay double housing for a whole year after taking a 25% pay cut so G could start a Ph.D.? That sucked. We finally rented it out in October 2004 and with a couple months' exception, it's been rented ever since. We're not making money on it, but we're not losing much -- maybe $15/month or so.

Well, this week we got a call from a realtor in the same office as our old realtor who said he had some people interested and wondered if we were interested in listing it again. We decided to give it a go.

Apparently the market in Salt Lake has changed a little bit. As of today we have two full-price offers. The realtor expects two more tomorrow. Holy moses. Maybe our asking price was too low. Huh. It was $15k higher than what we started at 3.5 years ago, and we are still going to make a nice little chunk on this property. I'm so glad we didn't sell it for nothing three years ago. We came darn close.

Anyway, so we are going to have a little nest egg to sock away for when G gets a doctorate and a grown-up job. I so wish we could put it in a house of our own right now. I know exactly where I would want to live. But I keep telling myself ... when the time is right, the right house will be there. I've been telling myself that for about 7 years now, ever since we bought the condo in 2000. Then I had my eye on a darling little brick cottage in the same neighborhood. Looks a little less likely now.

When we moved away from that condo, I cried. It was where S learned to walk, where A came home as a newborn. We put our heart and soul into it ... new windows, new flooring, painting walls and cabinets, my little xeriscaped garden. Sewing curtains, raking leaves. The first place that was ever ours. The only one so far. We'll probably never have a chance again to live in a pink gemstone-brick house with a berry-colored door and a walled patio where crabapple trees bloom for my birthday.

But we'll live somewhere else wonderful. I can't wait to see where.

The tardy cookies

These are, more or less, the killer chocolate chip cookies I was talking about from The Best Light Recipe. I have made them probably 6 times already for different things. They are so way good.

Mine are probably not quite as light as theirs, because I have a moral problem with using only 1/3 c of chocolate chips.

But honestly, this is so much better than the way I used to do chocolate chip cookies. I always had trouble getting the texture right. This seems to be foolproof.

I usually double the recipe.

Not Quite as Light Chocolate Chip Cookies

1/4 c butter, melted and cooled, NO SUBSTITUTES
1 c brown sugar (substitute 1 c white sugar + 1 tsp molasses if necessary)
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1 1/4 c all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 bag chocolate chips

Mix butter and sugar in your mixer until no lumps remain. Smash lumps with a spoon if you must. No lumps. Add egg and vanilla.

Whisk dry ingredients together in a medium bowl. Gradually add to butter mixture while stirring at low speed.

Fold in chips.

Bake at 350 for 12 minutes. Cool on a rack.

Cheese in the trees

I love this picture ... largely because you can see in it that I encourage my kids to be fashion weirdos. Union Jack socks? Okay! Cheetah pants with a tail? Yes, go for it!

Also because you can see my genius dad making sure my kids don't fall and break their legs. I wish we could all be together every single weekend.

Also because, hello, fabulous smiles. I love my boys.

This was at Woodward Park in Fresno a couple of weeks ago. Very fun place to spend an afternoon checking out the ducks and geese, climbing trees and exploring the Japanese garden.

Just thought I'd go for an easy, fun post today. The last few have been kind of intense.

Sustenance

I just sang in a choir for our stake youth re-enactment of the Kirtland Temple dedication. They do this every four years as part of their seminary curriculum. I was part of a small adult choir that sang the Hosanna Anthem, which I forgot was insanely high throughout. I think maybe the human voice has evolved lower in the last 171 years.

The cultural hall was pretty well transformed with very detailed butcher paper drawings hung all around and pulpits constructed from risers and tables and wrapped in paper with hand-drawn detail. Completely done by seminary students, completely non-slick and non-produced.

The early leadership of the Church was portrayed by the gangly 15-, 16- and 17-year-old boys of our stake. Their readings were not particularly vivid or inspired. Their costumes consisted mostly of turning up the collars of their Arrow white shirts and tying their ties with big knots.

And when they stood up to sustain Joseph Smith along with the real Melchizedek Priesthood holders -- their dads and teachers in the audience -- followed by their 12-year-old brothers representing the Aaronic Priesthood, and then by the whole room -- my heart burned and tears filled my eyes. What an amazing opportunity to sustain the first prophet of this dispensation. That was an absolutely undeniable feeling.

As our stake president demonstrated the Hosanna shout in a tearful whisper, the same feeling.

Then we sang that crazy high song and it was powerful and beautiful.

The Spirit can make something so much more than we can. I am so grateful I was there for this one.

Book rave

A couple of weeks ago, when this book was reviewed at By Common Consent, I ordered it. Then this week when it was reviewed at Feminist Mormon Housewives, I started it.

I responded to that second review saying it would probably be a few weeks before I finished it. Nonfiction books are not usually books I stay up at night to read. This one was.

And then I had to stay up more to send an email to everyone in my family (my parents and siblings, I mean) to tell them to get it and read it ... and to tell them they rock!

And then I had to blog about it! It will be a wonder if I get any sleep tonight at all!

This book is almost pure stories of people who have confronted the divide between religious faith and homosexuality -- their own homosexuality or that of a beloved family member. Stories will reel me in any day of the week. I guess Sister Pearson knew that.

The thing that makes me sad is that I had asked some friends to read it with me and got one hesitant maybe. It's still scary. I understand that. It has taken me a long time to figure out how I feel about my brothers being gay. Maybe I am still figuring out. But we have to be brave and figure it out, because so much is at stake!

It's a must, folks. If you love more than about 10 people in your life, it's a must. Or if you think you someday might. Even if none of your kids are gay, at least one of your grandkids probably will be. And in the world we live in, it won't be a secret. You will know. They will tell you. They will look into your eyes searching for your response. What remains to figure out is what YOU are going to do, and what will ripple out from there. Into their lives, and bounce off the shore and come back to you.

If you want that to be openness and love, this book has some good examples. If you are thinking maybe you couldn't do openness and love with a gay person, this book has a lot of sad and scary examples to convince you otherwise.

I want to just plead with the people who feel like this is too fringy a topic and somehow convince them how much better it would be to confront their discomfort BEFORE they have someone coming out to them, desperate for acceptance. I know that plea is not going to reach everybody or sit well with everybody, even among the people I know and love best.

Still, the book made me feel like times may be changing. I don't know everything change would mean, and I certainly know I'm not in charge of it. But the idea makes me want to shout for joy. I guess that means maybe I have figured out more than I knew.

I have a big mental list of people I want to give this book to. My family. My friend in the ward who also has a gay brother. My dear Hawaiian friend L who cites the Church's stance on homosexuality as the main reason for her departure. My awesome bishop, recently called, who will almost surely find someone in his office talking about their own or their kids' homosexuality in the next several years. I wish I could fulfill all those orders. Alas, my book dollar does not go that far.

Not sure whether it's in bookstores yet. But you can get it online at nomoregoodbyes.com.

Muscle through

Times are hard, hard times,
But everybody knows all about hard times.
The thing is, what are you gonna do?
Will you cry?
And try to muscle through?
And try to rearrange your stuff?
But when the wounds are deep enough,
And it's all that we can bear,
We wrap ourselves in prayer.
-Paul Simon, "Wartime Prayers"

That's what I listened to this morning. So good. Love that.

Muscling through is about what I'm doing right now. I have not had time for much else. I was weepy and scared yesterday. That fear is what I have to fight. It is so easy for me to go kind of nuts with all the what-ifs and maybes and imagine the worst. Here are the truths that I have been using to fight that with:

Foster parenting is the right thing for me to be doing. I have felt that in my heart and I can hold onto it.

Z is with us for a reason. Every moment with her is joy. I cannot be sad when I start each morning with her brilliant little toothless smile.

At the same time, if I were not upset at the prospect of losing her, I would not be normal and it would indicate a deficiency in what I am giving her.

The system might be wrong to place her in rehab with S, but there is nothing I can do about that. I have to let it go in order to get on with what I need to do every day.

If she goes, I will in fact be okay again sometime, even if it kicks my butt temporarily. God brought me here and God will see me through.

This is hard, but I can do it.

If I think it's not fair, I'm wrong. As I tell the boys all the time, fair isn't everybody being treated exactly the same. Fair is everybody having what they need -- the blessings and the trials. I have both, custom-made for me.

At the same time, this isn't all about me.

And it ain't over yet.

They had court

I just talked to Z's social worker.

They DID have the court hearing yesterday. Surprise!

The judge ordered the county to offer services to S (the mom) and the social worker said there is a good chance they will place Z with her in rehab in about 3 months.

I can't stop crying, this is horrible. I am sick that they would think about putting a baby in a drug rehab facililty. That is just freaking insane.

Bad morning: a primer

See Ana. See Ana rush. Ana has an 8:30 meeting. Rush, rush, rush. Snarf oatmeal. Pack up baby. Take baby to sitter. Rush, rush, rush.

See Ana walk out to van. Look in van. Oh no! Oh no! Keys are on seat! Door is locked! Meeting is in 10 minutes!

See Ana sit in sitter's house holding baby for 45 minutes. See, life is not so bad. This is more fun than a staff meeting.

See Ana greet roadside assistance. What a good friend. Ana loves roadside assistance.

See roadside assistance unlock van. See Ana step up to door. See Ana step in pile of dog poop.

See Ana surrender to the forces of chaos.

All the little things

This is a list of all the little I need to do after the kids go to bed in the evening. Things that fall outside my normal weekly chore list of laundry, bathrooms, dusting and so on. So I always forget about them when I am actually home. Then when I am at work and supposed to be concentrating on other things, all these little things accumulate in my mind and drive me positively insane.

1. Polish my shoes so I look a little less homeless.
2. Iron all my work shirts so I can wear them; sweater season is coming to a close here.
3. Mend the pink couch pillow where someone who shall not be named cut a hole in the back of it with scissors.
4. Mend the second red couch pillow where it came unstitched.
5. Wash off the nasty, disgusting tops of the washer and dryer.
6. Wipe down the outsides of the kitchen cabinets.
7. File the big stack of papers beside my home computer.
8. Do my taxes.
9. Put sheets back on the twin beds in Z's room (no one regularly sleeps on these, so when I stripped them to wash them, I never quite got to the last part of the job).
10. Put ads on Freecycle and Craigslist for the stuff in the garage that I need to get rid of.
11. Clean out the top drawer of my nightstand.
12. Take pictures of all the residual tutus and put them up on etsy.com.
13. Try ironing the jute rug in the family room and put a real rug pad under it. (Do not be fooled by the promise of rug tape, people, for it will bind you with its flaxen cords and lead you surely down to hell)
14. Sort Z's 0-3 month clothes into stuff I can send to my sister M for her baby due in June versus stuff I have to keep for future accountability (basically, stuff my friends and family gave me, versus stuff I bought with Z's clothing allowance or stuff that S provided). Put it all in the garage.
15. Speaking of baby clothes, deliver gift sitting on my dresser that I intended to give at a baby shower two weeks ago that I ended up ditching because I was just too tired.
16. Put candles on the mantel to replace the ones I threw away in frustration over the weekend because the wicks were all buried.

Okay, that's enough. I'm starting to think now about the bigger things that really need to get done, like replacing all the blinds in the house. We have four windows with mini blinds. They all worked when we moved in two years ago. They are all now broken. Spawn of Satan window coverings.

Back to work. I hope I can leave home at home now.

Food lessons learned

So I have learned some good food lessons in the last week, and I thought I'd share.

1. Those dried blueberries from Costco ROCK in my oatmeal. Thank you, mom! I need a Costco membership now in spite of the fact that I know full well I cannot go in that store without spending $150.

2. You can make egg rolls in the oven for your Chinese New Year celebration (photo). They are not the same as deep fried, of course, but they are still good.

3. You can rescue overcooked pork chops if you have about 8 hours to do it. Plop them in the crock pot on low all day with some barbecue sauce.

4. If you find some really old Rhodes rolls in the back of your freezer, just don't bother. The yeast in mine worked about like a 90 year old man before Viagra.

5. The chocolate chip cookie recipe in The Best Light Recipe from Cook's Illustrated is honestly better than the full-fat Betty Crocker recipe I normally make. SO good. Chewy on the edges, soft in the middle.

6. G makes amazing lemon bars.

7. I can gain 3 pounds in one weekend from egg rolls, cookies, lemon bars, and whatever else I ate.

I'm good

In case people were wondering ...

I am actually fine. I am not really put off by anti-adoption snipers, not when I really think about it. Sure, when I first read it my first reaction is, "I never should have made our story so public." But I don't think that's right. I share on purpose, because I believe it does some good. One or two negative people are not going to change that.

Plus, I recognize most anti-adoption people are probably speaking from very deep hurt and difficult personal experience. I don't want to discount what they have gone through and I don't want to disrespect adoptees or birthfamilies. Just the opposite. It is toxic for my kids if I can't respect other parts of the triad. (And if I have a hard time doing that sometimes, I work it out here, not with my kids. Which I think is a good thing, actually.)

But, like Bek said in her comment, their story is not my story or my kids' story. I expect them to respect that.

We had a nice visit with S today. She was 35 minutes late. It gave me a good chance to chat with the social worker, who reminded me S has a long way to go before she is ready to take Z back -- seeing as how she is still in an inpatient clinic, lacking transportation, and not really able to keep it together when things don't appear to be going her way-- and everything will still be up to the judge. Which is absolutely true. A judge can still decide that Z's life is just not something to gamble with.

So I'm still up here on my balance beam, but I have a very cheeky, cute baby to focus on to keep from falling. And really appreciating all the support from dear friends.

In other news, I ate at a new restaurant for lunch with my co-workers. It's not online, but it's called Madison's. Thai-continental fusion. I had warm coriander beef salad with snap peas and carrots. Faaaaaaabulous. Come visit me, I'll take you out. You too, anon. For lunch, I mean. Really.

Change is gonna come

Only registered users can comment on Watch Out for Mama now.

I'm happy to engage in discussion. But not with people who are not brave enough to tell their own stories and give some indication of who they are.

Considering what I am putting out there, I think that's fair.

The real worst

So, there's a blog that finds posts from adoptive families and blasts them. I'm not linking them, because I don't want to feed the fire. (Although I'll thank them for the traffic ... haha!) I'm accused there of "wishing for the worst," hoping that S stays addicted and we keep Z.

Obviously they skimmed one post of mine and made that judgement. Anybody who knows my story knows that is not the case. They're just wrong about that. If you came here from that blog, make up your own mind.

I want to say, though, that I think that would not be the worst thing that could happen. It would be the worst for S, yes. But she is not the only person in this story.

The real worst would be if S gets clean long enough to get Z back, then relapses and Z ends up being hurt in some way. The possibilities are unfortunately endless. The literal toxic poisons of meth in the home. A mother whose addiction makes her forget to feed, bathe, clothe a child. Compromised judgement leading to a bad choice of boyfriend who would hurt a little girl. A car accident from a mom driving while tweaking. A child learning from the example of a mom who parties instead of nurtures.

That would be the real worst. And when I say these things I am not hating on S. I am just recognizing the awful power of the addiction that has gripped her in the past and the potential for her to relapse. I've seen this stuff fairly close up in the past. I've heard the reactions of kids who went through it with their moms addicted. I've seen the fallout.

There is a child here, and because of that it is just not about S anymore. Yes, I should love her and forgive her, and I am trying to do that, as hard as it is for me. But she is not my first responsibility. Sick though she may be, she is an adult. Z needs my care and vigilance much more.

How much are we willing to risk in order to keep a biological family together?

It's an open question.

Z update

It's been pointed out to me that I did not ever share what happened with the Feb. 6 court date. Oops, sorry. But mainly I never shared because nothing ever happened.

They trailed the hearing until Feb. 28. Our social worker does not think the DNA test results will be back by then, so it's likely to be delayed even further.

S (Z's mom, whom I still want to call birthmom, if not meth mommy) asked the social worker if she would recommend placing Z with the alleged paternal birth aunt. How is that for a convoluted relationship? The social worker said she told S that Z is being very well cared for and if Z were her daughter she would not mess with it. That was nice. So maybe S will not press for that particular placement. We'll see.

The creepy news is that some of the moms in the inpatient rehab center where S is right now actually have their children with them. S wants to have Z with her there. Well, of course she does. But I would think that the system would be a little wary of someone who has a demonstrated meth addiction to the point where she has already lost four children because of it. Have I mentioned that? Yeah. I would think they would maybe want her to prove that she can stay clean in a normal environment before they trust her with a child.

I'll say it again: I like S. I wish the best for her. She is in fact doing really well. She got a job working in a rest home as a CNA. (Sal pointed out the irony of that ... yeah, it makes me think twice about rest homes.) I am glad for S; it's a good step for her. But I don't trust her any further than the end of Z's baby toes.

She says she wants to stay in the rehab center for a year. That is a long time. Which has caused me to think, can I be in this for that long if I am going to be heartbroken at the end? Or would I rather have Z go to the alleged paternal aunt and try to get over her and move on to a baby I can keep?

That is really not an easy question because I really do want a child who will be with us forever.

But I have decided I love Z enough that I will be her backup. If that is all I can be for her, then I will be that. And I will treasure every day when she smiles up at me from the changing table in the morning, so happy to greet the morning. And every moment when she so earnestly coos out her deepest thoughts and gurgles whatever it is she is trying to hard to communicate to me. Every exhausted cuddle and frustrated cry.

It has also made me think really seriously that there is no guarantee with any of our kids, that we will have them here with us tomorrow. My amazing friend K who I work with in Young Women lost her 11 year old son in a car accident 20 years ago. She talks frequently about him. I think she is what she is -- a spiritual giantess, really -- because of that loss. I know she never expected it. Any one of us can be blindsided by things like that. We don't like to consider the possibility. But it's there.

Having Z is kind of like having a child with a life-threatening illness. It is hard knowing that she could go. It is challenging to continue to hope that she will stay.

Because of her I have thought more about the preciousness of every moment with my family. I am trying harder to let the little things go. So S wants to wear the same clothes to school today that he wore to school yesterday ... okay, I do not need to draw a line in the sand over that. So A is whining and crying again ... I will try to comfort him instead of sending him away. So G is doing one more stupid little thing that annoys me ... I can let it go.

Just another way Baby Z is a miracle and a blessing in our family.

Stuff 'n'stuff

Here is what I am loving lately.

Donna Karan Gold perfume, which I asked for for Christmas and did not get. So I did what any reasonable woman would do. I bought it for myself at Sephora in Las Vegas when no one was looking. It reminds me of the Laura Ashley No. 1 I used to wear as a teenager. (Sally kindly pointed out to me that I could still buy half a bottle on eBay. For like $150. Uh, I am just not that rich, plus it would bug me to have a used toiletry item.) This new perfume is still sweet and floral but a little more mature. I am walking around smelling myself all day and loving it.

Sephora. Holy cool. Because you know what I hate about buying makeup and stuff from department stores? Salespeople. Sorry, but they just make me freak out and run away. But at Sephora it is seriously as easy as buying drugstore makeup. The difference is that the products are actually nice.

Airborne or the generic version thereof. I was a Zicam fan before. And that works. But I got some generic Airborne type stuff for really cheap at BigLots. And I started taking it when I started feeling icky. It tastes okay, no chalky zinc tablet to chew, since you dissolve it in water like Alka Seltzer. And I am FINE! Two days later, no trace of the ominous ickies! That is something to shout about, so forgive my prodigious use of exclamation points! Thanks to this stuff I can actually smell my yummy new perfume!

Old-fashioned oatmeal. I think I have finally burned myself out on Kashi GoLean Crunch after eating it almost every day for ... oh, 5 years or something like that. What I am doing now is throwing a handful of oats in the microwave with skim milk for six minutes while I toddle outside to get the newspaper, then stirring in fruit or raisins along with about a teaspoon of chopped nuts. It is a yummy yummy breakfast and I think I am cutting back on the sugar. My mother is probably now in shock, as I railed against oatmeal for most of my childhood. I have learned the error of my ways! (By the way, mom, I now also eat tuna and eggplant. And like them. But you probably knew that.)

Flashkit.com. This is where I am getting free audio loops for the podcast I produce at work. They are not half bad. I still wish for some original stuff. Musicians? Email me.

That's all. It was a short list but a good list.

No roses

Can you handle more husband bragging from me? I know it probably gets obnoxious. Sorry. But you know I'm going to do it anyway.

Last night I was hammered -- in the most virtuous possible way. I traveled last week on business, flying in an airplane to do so, which means I am now fighting a cold and catching up at work. I was in charge of the Mia Maids activity last night. I have been getting up at night with Z so G can catch up on the work he couldn't do while I was gone last week. It all just feeds on itself, to the point where last night the house was trashed and the boys were only half done with their Valentines.

I went to bed at 10. As soon as House was over. How about that surgery and that thing he pulled out of that girl? I don't want to ruin it for you in case you Tivoed it, but that was pretty much amazingly gross.

Anyway, G stayed up, cleaned up, and finished up the Valentines. He let me get to work on time for an 8:30 meeting this morning and took care of refilling S's prescription and getting the boys to school. And he left me a sweet note and then emailed me to ask me how I was feeling.

Who in the heck needs roses? But the day's not over yet.

G is getting a Valentine card and a case for his iPod. I suspect he may have something else in store for me. But if not, seriously, his taking care of our family last night was enough. I am just so grateful to have the husband and the marriage that I have. I am a lucky, lucky mama.

(This picture, if you are not fortunate enough to know, is from No Roses for Harry, which I love.)

Happy Valentine's Day. Hope you get pampered by somebody.

The cake

So last night we went to a little potluck get-together with other grad students, mostly married with kids. We have discovered that these are a lot more Sabbath-appropriate than the all-call grad student parties, as you can imagine. (At the latter, there's no way three bottles of wine would last the whole evening, for one thing.) The food at these parties is generally fantastic as the participants come from all over the world. Last night we had entries from China, Nepal and Chile.

And from Utah Mormonism, of course -- my contribution. I pieced it together from recipes in the Farm Journal cookbook I got from Grandma Irvine when she moved (the cake -- spices added by me) and the Lion House Christmas book I got this year (the frosting), plus a little pumpkin cream filling I made up myself.

I have to say, in my humblest way, it was amazing. And a huge hit, even with the international crowd -- not always super fond of sweets.

Pumpkin Spice Cake A La Mama

Pumpkin Spice Cake
1/2 c unsalted butter, at room temperature (the recipe calls for shortening, but I say never!)
1 c granulated sugar
1 c brown sugar
2 eggs
1 c canned solid-pack pumpkin
1 tsp. maple extract

3 c all-purpose flour
4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. ginger
1/4 tsp. cloves
1/4 tsp. allspice

1/2 c whole milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees (F). Prepare two 9-inch cake pans by spraying with cooking spray and placing parchment or waxed paper in the bottom (cut to fit). Then spray again over the paper.

Cream butter well, then slowly add sugars, eggs, pumpkin and maple extract.

In a separate bowl, sift together dry ingredients. (I always just whisk them together because I don't have a sifter. It works fine.)

Alternate adding dry ingredients and milk as you beat on medium-low speed. As soon as everything is incorporated, stop mixing. You do not want to overbeat this cake, or it will get chewy -- there is a lot of wet stuff to activate the gluten in the flour.

Divide the cake into the two pans you have prepared and bake at 350 for 30 minutes or until the cakes test done. Cool in pans on a rack for 10 minutes. Then cover your rack with parchment or wax paper and turn cakes out to cool further.

Pumpkin Butterscotch Cream Filling
1/3 c corn starch
2/3 c brown sugar
pinch salt
1/4 c dark corn syrup or molasses
2 c whole milk

1 egg, beaten in a small bowl

1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp butter
1/2 c solid pack canned pumpkin

Whisk together corn starch, sugar and salt in a medium sauce pan. Gradually stir in milk and corn syrup.

Heat over medium heat, stirring constantly, until boiling. Boil and stir one minute. Add half of mixture to egg in bowl, stirring briskly. Re-incorporate egg mixture into pan. Re-heat to boiling; boil and stir one minute.

Remove from heat. Add butter and vanilla, then stir in pumpkin. Allow to cool.

Cream Cheese Frosting
1 package (8 oz) cream cheese
1/4 c butter
2 1/2 c powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
Hot water as needed

Cream together butter and cream cheese. Stir in powdered sugar gradually. No powdered sugar clouds. Add vanilla and stir. If frosting is too thick to spread, add hot water, 1 tsp at a time, until it is soft enough.

Cake Assembly
Put a smear of frosting on your cake plate to hold the cake in place. Center the first layer on the plate.

Top with pumpkin cream filling. You might not use it all -- that's okay. Use your judgement. I used about half of my mixure. You want it to be about 1/2 inch from the edge of the cake. You will have better luck with this the cooler the cream has become. It will be more solid as it gets cooler.

Place the top layer on the cake.

Frost around the edges at the middle between the two layers first. Don't think of it as spreading frosting; just kind of tuck it in to seal in the pumpkin cream.

Then frost the rest of the cake. You should have just enough frosting! I did! Lucky I didn't let G steal any ... mean, mean me!

I decorated the sides of the cake with sliced almonds and the top with a sprig of chocolate mint from my herb pot.

I am really sorry I didn't take a picture. I need to establish that habit now that I have my own good digital camera. I guess you will just have to make your own cake!

Craft stores are dangerous

At least in my town.

Fight between women in craft store may have resulted in miscarriage

By Doane Yawger
DYAWGER@MERCEDSUN-STAR.COM

Last Updated: February 10, 2007, 02:43:35 AM PST

Merced police are investigating a fight between two women in a North Merced store that may have resulted in one of them losing her 2-month-old fetus.

Lt. Andre Matthews of the Merced Police Department said a 27-year-old Merced woman challenged a 23-year-old pregnant woman to a fight at 3:30 p.m. Thursday inside Michael's craft store at 655 Fairfield Drive.

Matthews said the 27-year-old woman pushed the victim against a shopping cart, and turned the cart over. Her 1-year-old son landed on the floor.

The child received minor bumps and bruises in the fall but his distraught mother complained of abdominal pain. She was taken by ambulance to the Community Campus of Mercy Medical Center Merced where she reportedly aborted the fetus, Matthews said.

The 27-year-old woman was placed under citizen's arrest for misdemeanor assault but the incident remains under investigation and police will be checking on the pregnancy aspect. The women may have had a history of past conflict, Matthews said.

The lieutenant said the woman had tried to ignore the confrontation before she was pushed against the shopping cart.

Associate Editor Doane Yawger can be reached at 385-2485 or dyawger@mercedsun-star.com.

Holly's cool stuff for kids

My adoptive-mama friend Dr. Holly (congratulations on the fresh Ph.D.!) has a cool new blog focused only on cool, educational stuff for kids. Link heaven at Cool Stuff for Kids.

Holly is also a homeschooling mom and a clergyperson (Episcopal, I think ... is that right, Holly?). Her busy life doesn't leave a lot of time for blogging but she also blogs about her family occasionally at Coolclan.

Home

Well, I don't want to travel again for a while. I pretty much always hate Las Vegas by the time I leave. This was a weird trip. The people at the conference really didn't gel into a group and it made it kind of a lonely time. The content was excellent (learning all about animal extremists, woo!) but no new friends. On the upside of that, I didn't have to miss American Idol or House on Tuesday. Not that American Idol is worth watching yet. We'll get there.

The other plus for this trip was the spa at the Mirage. I didn't even get any spa services, just paid to work out and use the jacuzzi and stuff. It was super -- so relaxing and I was treated so nicely even though I was the cheapskate guest! I now so want to do a spa thing with my mom and sisters sometime, or maybe with girlfriends. It would be amazingly fun!

My flight home was delayed and I got in at 12:45 AM Wednesday night. That sucked, big time. If you are ever tempted to fly directly into my little town in order to save an hour or two driving to the airport in a nearby larger town, just remember that if you are delayed by a couple hours it will nullify that time savings. And apparently it happens all the time. Wish I'd known. Also the little propeller planes you have to fly on to do that, which are "so Howard Hughes" according to my Pink-Floyd-listening taxi driver in Vegas, are incredibly loud and will leave your butt buzzing for hours afterward. Not in a good way, either. I am still tired from that stupid night.

A had a tummy bug when I got home so I kept him with me yesterday. The day was more or less wasted except for answering e-mails, taking Z to appointments, and turning in my expenses from the trip. So I still have a ginormous pile of work to catch up on. (I learned that word from the Beehives. Cute, huh? Ha --)

Onward ... yawn ...

Six

So, V tagged me to list six unusual things about myself. Nothing seems that unusual to me. I mean, I live with me every day. So it's all normal to me, ya know?

1. I used to have my own top-rated radio show. On this station. That's right -- Sundays, 5 - 10 AM, I was the top dog on the soft rock airwaves. It was a good gig for a high school girl. They are actually playing much cooler music now than they did then. Guess I was just 15 years too early.

2. Foster mom. You guys know all about this already. It's unusual because most people aren't foster parents. That's all.

3. After this weekend I will have watched every episode of Jeeves and Wooster. It is particularly satisfying to watch a few of this and then a few of House on DVD. Cute, rubberfaced Hugh Laurie, meet scary mean hilarious Hugh Laurie. Oh, you two are going to be great friends.

4. White parents, rainbow kids. Again, normal for me. But most families just don't look like mine.

5. Being on TV is a pretty normal part of my job.

6. Published in the Friend magazine. But not recently. I'm thinking mebbe they found the blog and tagged me as a Mormon of questionable standing. Hm. I would not get mad at anybody for not publishing my stuff; they paid me for it when I needed it, and I can't complain. But I would hate for anybody to think I'm going anywhere away from the Church. I'm not.

Who needs joints?

Not me, for this update. Bullets are my friend.

• Thursday's visit: We arrived at the agency and signed in. They paged the social worker twice. The receptionist left for lunch. We waited half an hour. No one ever showed up. I still don't know what happened.
  
• S slept for two days straight with the stupid croup. Out for two days of school and home after sacrament meeting today. He is still wiped out starting about 7:30 p.m. But I think he can go to school tomorrow.
• A learned about the First Vision in Primary today. G asked him if he believed in that story, and he said yes. Asked why, he responded, "People have pictures that show it." I think we might have to discuss the difference between photos and paintings sometime. Nonetheless, very sweet innocent faith.
  
• I removed all the stuff from the kitchen counters and cleaned them with bleach. Guess what? My grout is white! I hate tile counters. Hate.
• Also washed 7 loads of laundry and then hid it in the bedroom while feeding missionaries. Ever heard "out of sight, out of mind?" Yeah, I totally forgot it. It's still there, and I think it's growing.
  
• I have to go to Las Vegas tomorrow and stay until Wednesday. Not my favorite town. But at least I get a nice hotel. Conference about animal research. Should be interesting. And I'm leaving my husband with the laundry unfolded. Me, guilty? Nah.
  
• You may remember the rescheduled court date for Z's case is Tuesday. I am not sure what is going to happen but they still have not done the paternity testing. They called us, we called back, and then we heard nothing until Thursday, when they called again. I will call back tomorrow, but I can't see how it's going to get done in time for a hearing Tuesday.
• Rockin' baby sale at JC Penney. Carter's, cheap.
• Stake YW leadership meeting Thursday. Seriously considering skipping, as I am basically not seeing my family between now and then.
  

Crazy life. Bullet points absolutely necessary. Hold your breath; the week is about to begin.

Oh my gosh, it's a recipe

I looked back and I think the last time I posted a recipe was in November. Uh, that's a long time.

And yet I have managed to eat during all that time! I must be cooking something!

Here is one I made a couple of weeks ago -- back in January. We had it with the beer bread that Sally gave me the mix for for Christmas. (She even gave me the beer. So much appreciated!) You can't go wrong with that mix ... but the combination with the beans ... was yum.

This recipe also has the benefits of being vegetarian, ultra cheap, super easy, and made almost completely from food storage ingredients, except for the fresh garlic. I guess if it was Armageddon or something you could substitute garlic powder.

Fagioli all'Uccelletto (Tuscany Beans)

1/2 c olive oil
4-6 cloves garlic, minced or pressed (don't be a chicken, now!)
6-8 c cooked white beans
1 large can tomatoes with juice
About 3 c. (2 cans) broth of your choice -- chicken or vegetable
1 tbsp ground sage

Saute garlic briefly in oil. Don't let it brown or burn. Add broth, beans, tomatoes and sage. Simmer 20 minutes.

This is the nicest winter dinner served with a nice salad full of bitter greens and a crusty bread. Some nice, hard grated cheese to sprinkle on the beans is a bonus, too.

Let's laugh

This will help.

Jinx

Two gassy awakenings, three bad dreams, one croupy cough and one jealous brother who still has to go to kindergarten.

One meeting with S for Z and me later today.

Did I say I was feeling good?

I wanna quit.

Vroom

So wonderful V helped me put up my new header graphic. I did make the graphic myself. Woot for me! Ain't that the purtiest purple power drill you ever saw? I can get by in Photoshop, but HTML makes my head spin. So, thank you, V!

I am feeling so good the last couple of days. Thanks largely to the support and even tough love of friends (Heidi, even though you say you're not reading) and family (my mom and dad are the best evah!) I think I am feeling good enough to quit posting so much self-involved emotional crap and get back to the recipes, books, funny stories and churchy posts that make my life good for me.

Hope you will like it, too.

PS: Please pray for my brother-in-law B. He is down and out in the hospital with pancreatitis. OUCH! Also for his wife, my sister M, who is pregnant and wrestling an almost-4-year-old.

Not afraid

Somehow in the last three days things have changed a lot for me.

I'm not scared anymore about what will happen with Z. In addition to assurance that S is not creepy or scary (at least for now, while she is clean) and S's promise that she would like to keep in touch if she is reunified with Z, I have simply been given a gift of peace. I know God is in charge. This cannot go any way other than His way.

And I know now that if we lose her, it will not actually destroy me. I will mourn, maybe even a lot, and then I will go on, and probably even take the same risks all over again.

I went back and read what I wrote before we were approved about Nephi's courage. I think I was right. If we have faith and start out to do what we think we can't do, the Lord will teach us how strong we really are. That is maybe the best application of His power, to bring us to know the best about ourselves.

Fostering kids is a big thing. I know it's not for everyone. A lot of people tell me they could never do it. The thing is, I bet at least some of them could. Or maybe they could do something else.

I wonder, what other big things might we do to make a difference in the world, if we set aside our fear? I think about one of my young women who went earlier this month to the Dominican Republic to assist her dad, an oral surgeon working on Operation Smile. I think about a Tongan elder who came to California to teach the gospel for two years. And there are so many other things -- ways to serve and change and do better.

I better go to bed before I decide to bury my car and burn my TV.

Update

I am just cut-and-pasting this from another message ... it's not eloquent but it'll tell you what's going on.

---

Yesterday was HARD, it was a big mental shift for me to see her with her mom. I think it is the first time I have really understood in my HEART what our status with Z really is -- what it really means to be a foster mom. Mom "S" is doing really well in her treatment. And she is a nice lady and obviously really really loves Z. She is on the verge of being able to get a CNA job -- she had an interview yesterday morning that she said went really well.

I think, to be really honest, it's a 50/50 chance or less that we will adopt Z. But we'll see what happens. Really, everything will depend on the judge.

I told the social worker at the doctor this morning (yes, she did end up coming with) that I really do wish S the best and want her to succeed. But I don't trust her. And the SW said that's how it should be and that is exactly how the agency sees it.

Yesterday I was really really upset about this stuff -- just sick to my stomach all afternoon. But today I am doing better.

Z had 3 shots this morning but did really well. She is a trooper! And she talked and cooed at S all through the appointment. S was loving it, of course. But after the shots ... she only wanted me.

Mariposas

I think butterflies are the fad for baby girls right now. They're on everything. Blankets, crib sheets, onesies. G has been known to call Z his little mariposa. (She is half Mexican, in case you forgot!)

Well, today the little pink and purple butterflies have taken up temporary residence in my gut.

We have a visit with Z's mom this afternoon. I am going in to meet her, because she wants to go to Z's doctor appointment tomorrow, and the social worker cannot be there. So I have to decide if I can handle having her there with no supervision.

I was actually getting used to dropping off Z at the back door of the county agency and picking her up an hour later. Figures there is a new wrinkle. Heaven forbid I should get comfy.

Yesterday someone said to me, "More people should do what you're doing." (Fostering, they meant.) I replied, "Now that I'm doing it, I know why more people don't."

This is hard and scary. I'd love to have your prayers on my behalf today.

Dear Dr. G

G got a letter from a job he applied for. It was not a rejection letter. It was just a "make sure your application is complete" letter. OK, that was a relief.

It was also addressed to "Dr. G." Very funny! Very cool!

This particular job is a tenure track faculty position here in our region. The education/research profile they say they are looking for fits G perfectly, and they say they will accept an ABD candidate. (That means "All But Dissertation," which is where G is at this point. I didn't know that, either, until this year.) If he got it, I think I could keep my job at least until we were better established financially -- maybe until he got tenure or something like that. Plus, it's one hour closer to Disneyland!

I know that someone who is actually already done and has completed a postdoc or two will probably be the one to get it. But I can hope!

G had a great day yesterday -- I guess he finally got his data all plotted and discussed it with one of his collaborators at Livermore, and it's looking really good, showing some previously unknown scientific facts and stuff, which is what you are supposed to do to get a Ph.D. the way I understand it.

So, watch out, here comes Dr. G. I'm proud!

Bouldering for FHE

We live close to a famous national park. It's a very lucky thing. Also lucky is the fact that it's G's Ph.D. research area, so he has a sampling permit. When we want to go up there, we just take his permit and a few empty sampling bottles and voila, free park day.

What the boys love most in the park is climbing on big boulders. Indeed, bouldering is very popular even for adults. The paranoid mommy in me is kind of hoping they stick with that instead of climbing the very very very big cliffs where you sometimes see climbers who have climbed halfway up one day, then pitched their tents by means of some crazy contraption holding them on the face of the cliff. I see those and my stomach comes just about up to my nose.

When my parents were with us for Thanksgiving, we spent our last day together up in the mountains. Despite frigid temperatures, the boys were all over the boulders under Yosemite Falls. They both slipped and got their feet wet. They were miserable, but G helped them out and we piggybacked them to the car so they wouldn't have to walk on their soggy, cold feet.

So when I was looking through the Friend last night for a quick Family Home Evening, this brought tears to my eyes. I knew the kids would listen and understand if I started asking them to remember their own experience climbing on boulders in a rushing stream, then introduced the painting in the magazine and the concept of relying on the Savior. It went so great. They actually paid attention ... for once. It is the biggest treat to me to see comprehension in their eyes.

The lesson was followed by a puppet show from S about sheep having a war. (Thanks for the sheep puppets, Grandma!) Treats were vanilla pudding cups with whipped cream left over from Sunday dinner. We definitely operate on the keep-it-simple principle for family night. It's so nice when it actually works.

When A said his bedtime prayer he asked that we could keep Z in our family, learn about Jesus and learn to read. I'm guessing that last one applied mainly to him. Anyway, so sweet.

Faith, fear, information and preparation

I tell you these things because of your prayers; wherefore, treasure up wisdom in your bosoms, lest the wickedness of men reveal these things unto you by their wickedness, in a manner which shall speak in your ears with a voice louder than that which shall shake the earth; but if ye are prepared ye shall not fear.

Doctrine and Covenants 38:30

Remember that Seminary scripture?

I, of course, only remembered the last phrase, "if ye are prepared ye shall not fear."

I've been thinking about this for a while. Very often we try to imagine worst-case scenarios so we'll "be prepared." As if, somehow, having imagined something terrible before it happens will make it less terrible when it becomes reality.

I am just not sure that's true. For example, when we lose someone we love, even if we have considered the possibility before -- even if we have known it's going to happen -- the loss still hurts.

When my mom's dad passed away in the spring of 1999, it had been coming for five years. He had Parkinson's and a head injury, and we all knew his death was a blessing for him. Still, on the day I heard the news, I drove home from work along 7th East in South Salt Lake and realized for the first time that I do the same kind of work he did -- he was a long-time reporter for the Deseret News and the Church News -- and I felt a big, gaping hole right in the middle of me, and I sobbed big, wracking sobs. Frankly, I'm surprised I made it home safely.

Maybe it really would have been more painful if Grandpa had died suddenly -- for example, if the accident in 1994 that made everything go so far downhill had taken his life instead of just injuring his brain. I can't say what would have been. I'll confess that.

But let me bring this into the present. Right now I feel like some people want me to be prepared for the worst with Z -- for her to go back to her mom. I don't want to dwell on that. I want to be able to have some faith that God will find a way to keep her with us. I don't want to risk falling into fear. I don't want these chicken-crap prayers about "whatever is best for the baby." I want to envision the best possible outcome. I want to believe that's possible.

It is really hard work to do that. Because all the information I am getting tells me to be afraid. This is a scary situation. There are no two ways about that.

And I am not sure that what I am trying to do is really faith. As we tried to conceive biological kids -- years ago now -- I came to feel that faith is not about knowing the future; it is about trusting God and His plan for our lives. I still don't trust this positive-thinking, envisioning business as much beyond magical thinking, clap your hands and make Tinkerbell come back to life.

But I don't know what else I can even try to do. And what if? What if it is really true that the power of my mind can make a difference? What if I really do have some power and some say, not just a choice whether to submit or not? I wouldn't want to screw that up.

If we lose Z, it is going to flatten me, no matter how much I've tried to prepare. So maybe I can just try the opposite.

If only I could get all the professional type people to quit trying to bust my pixie dust bubble.

Somebody talk me down

Well folks, it's Thursday once again. You know what that means: freak-out about foster care day.

Actually we did not have a visit with Z's mom today. Instead we had a visit at home from the case supervisor. We have not met her before because apparently this is a new thing, this idea that perhaps there should be a caseworker who we can contact consistently throughout the entire process and have her know what is going on. Imagine!

So, she's nice and all. But she's brutally honest. She thinks Z's mom is doing really well and has a good chance of getting Z back.

DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sometimes I think people forget that the system is supposed to be on the side of the child, not the messed-up parents!

Z's mom, let's remember, is in inpatient rehab. So of course she's doing great. She doesn't have to deal with life. She doesn't have to deal with her druggie friends, dysfunctional mother, financial realities. Honestly, I am just extremely skeptical about her ability to stay clean long term. I'd be happy to see her succeed. But it seems so unlikely that it will last long-term, and I am loath to put Z at that kind of risk.

The case supervisor also said she thinks this inpatient program is for 6 months. That is a LONG time to be in inpatient! Going back to the time someone I know was in an inpatient program, it was 30 days and it cost that person's family in the neighborhood of $30k, if I remember correctly. And that was 15 years ago.

So who pays for 6 months of inpatient rehab for meth addicts? Anyone? Anyone?

Oh yes, that's right, it is you and me, the American taxpayers. At least that is what this social worker told me. And we do it so they can take their babies back from good stable homes and then go back to using whenever they feel like it.

Not patient with the system today ...

I like to take my time

Are you singing and thinking of Fred Rogers and getting that good old PBS-style warm fuzzy feeling?

Good, because the story I am about to tell you ... sucks.

Last night Z's babysitter was so kind and brought her to me on campus at 5:15. I took off in a rush to go get the boys.

I rushed so much that when I went to turn left at one of the busiest intersections in town, I ran into the median. Blew out my tire and ruined the rim. Called G in tears. Spent the next 45 minutes waiting for roadside assistance.

I will never ever ever go without roadside assistance. Blown out tires aside, I do enough dumb tricks like locking my keys in the car and leaving my lights on that roadside assistance is an absolute must. We get ours through our insurance. Yes, I really do like them enough to give them a link. They do a good job. I have had it ever since we bought our first car in 1996 (and yes, that was 3 years after we were married) and I have never regretted it.

But enough about that. Moral of the story: don't hurry.

The other thing I will never go without (I hope) is a rock of a husband who is never mad when I do these dumb things, just concerned that I am okay and composed enough to call my visiting teacher to go get my kids before the after-school program calls CPS. (Which they will do if I am later than 6 PM. Crazy!)

Today is a darn big day at work. No hurrying. No mini-explosions. It's bad enough I am driving on a donut.

I like to take my time and do it right. Thanks, Mr. Rogers.

Oh, and I ditched Mutual. And the kids fell asleep in front of the TV watching that fiasco of an American Idol debut. Why did they show all the kooks? It's like rewarding their weirdness. Let's hope this season gets a lot better.

Time management challenges

On a lighter note, how would you manage this schedule?

5:00 PM meet babysitter on campus, get baby, drive to afterschool program
5:20 PM pick up boys at afterschool program
5:30 PM pick up dinner at McDonald's for boys as a reward for completing their homework at the afterschool program ... I HOPE
6:00 PM ransack house looking for papers for Mutual
7:00 PM Mutual with three kids, two game boys, a bottle and a desperate prayer
8:00 PM ditch stake YW meeting in favor of putting kids to bed
8:00 PM American Idol

See my conflict there? I KNOW FOR A FACT my kids are going to want to stay up and watch Idol. I would let them stay up until 9 but it goes until 10! And it is going to take me half an hour to get them to bed! And I cannot work my VCR!

Well, not exactly. I theoretically know how to record a show. The real problem is that we don't have cable, just broadcast (which supposedly limits the amount of TV we watch although you would never know it by the way I was glued to Super Nanny last night) and if I hook the antenna to the VCR the reception does not come through well on the TV.

So you see, I know exactly what is wrong, and I know what to do; I am not losing my Ms. Fixit nerve. I am just not willing to get cable to fix this particular issue.

Because then I would do nothing but watch Food Network and HGTV all day, every day. I would lose my job and my family would starve in squalor.

Ha! I am a dork! Seriously, I need ideas.

New court date

Officially, the court date that was originally scheduled for today has been "trailed" to February 6 for paternity testing. Trailed, as far as I can tell, is a technical legal term that means delayed or rescheduled. (Speak English, you legal people! Geez louise!)

Thus we have a new date on which to focus our prayers, meditations, positive thoughts, magic spells. Whatever you do, we'll take it. Here's what you should aim for:

1. We want the alleged father with the sister who wants Z not to be Z's actual biological father. Would-be auntie needs to go bye-bye, out of the picture, adios. I don't feel bad about that at all.

2. We want the judge to bypass services for Z's mom. I mostly don't feel bad about thinking she doesn't deserve another chance to clean up at the taxpayers' expense. She has blown that before.

3. We want some kind of magical thing where we can keep Z without her mom having to fail. I just cannot think of what that is.

Woo, magical pink thoughts.

Purses for Haiti

From my friend Heather:

Hello!

On March 23rd I'm traveling to Haiti with 18 others for 10 days to work with Healing Hands for Haiti. This is a non-profit organization that has set up a rehabilitation clinic in Haiti providing help for the disabled citizens there. Because I'm not medically trained, I've been asked to be the director of the Care Givers School. This is a four day course teaching orphange workers basic skills that can actually save the lives of the children living in the orphanages. I'm sending you this e-mail to see if you could help in any of the following three ways:

#1 In order to try to raise money to pay for translators, I have designed a Valentine purse that I will make and send to the first 10 people who donate $40 or more to Healing Hands for Haiti. Shipping will be extra and not tax deductible. Could you please send the following link to anyone who you think might be interested in donating and would like to receive this purse in time for Valentine's Day? This offer will end Feb. 2nd. Here's the link: www.pursesforhaiti.blogspot.com

#2 For those of you who live in the Pleasant Grove area, the team will be packing all of our personal belongings (except for mosquito nets) in a carry on bag leaving our two suitcases free to bring over critically needed supplies for the orphanges and clinics. Top priority are vitamins and pain relievers (Ibuprofen, aspirin and acetominophen). Could you please look through your cupboards and see if you have any vitamins and pain relievers that you could spare? Open bottles are okay.

[If you want Heather's information for this purpose and feel confident you can convince me you are not a creepy stalker, email me.]

#3 I need your creativity. After the orphanage workers have finished this four day course they are presented with a certificate. You would think they have graduated from college they are so proud to receive this "diploma". I've been asked to come up with some ideas to make the graduation ceremony special for these graduates. I'd like to present each person who completes the course with a small gift. I can bring the raw materials over from America and have lots of volunteers to help assemble the gifts in the evenings when the clinic is closed. Each graduate will have their picture taken, and I'd like to do something with the pictures as well. Any other ideas you have as to how I can make the graduation ceremony itself special will also be welcome.

To give you just a brief snapshot of what Healing Hands for Haiti is about, I created a short 1 min video available on the web for your view. Please take the time to see it, (no need to download it onto your computer) and share it with your friends. Be sure the volume is turned up on your computer. And I have found that when I click the bottom right hand corner of the pop up window the movie will enlarge to fill the window. If you own a Mac you won't be able to see the video, sorry.

Click here to view the video. The last picture in the video is of graduates of the Care Givers School from two years ago.

For more information about Healing Hands for Haiti, you can visit their website at www.healinghandsforhaiti.org

Thank you for helping me be a healing hand for Haiti.

Heather

Batten down

A woke up this morning, sat up in bed, and called out, "Happy birthday, Martin Luther King, Jr. in heaven!" (So he's not calling him Saint Luther King anymore ... but is it just me, or does this sound almost deific?)

Still, I love Dr. King and I love it that we have a holiday in his honor. What a great example of how a human person with flaws and foibles can do amazing things for the world. I love it that we can honor him in spite of imperfection. See, it's not so hard to do (all Joseph Smith haters out there, take note).

Got a big work week coming up, with DH planning to be out of town for the first half of it. So I'm at work today, battening down the hatches and trying to make sure I don't die the rest of the week. I will be counting on a lot of energy bars and maybe even my friend Diet Pepsi. I am mostly wishing I were doing more special stuff with my kids on this really special day.

Check V's blog for a YouTube link of the famous speech.

Poppin' pills like House

Have I mentioned how I love that show? My pills are just ibuprofen, don't worry. And tomorrow likely I will not need them, and I will have lost 3 pounds of bloat. That's a good thing.

So I just need to puke up all my racing thoughts so I can get to work here. I have a boatload of work to do. In fact it might be good to pretend that I am in jail like House for a while, because really I should not blog. Oh, quiet over there, you know I will anyway. I bet people blog from prison all the time. That would be an interesting thing to investigate.

So at Z's parental visit yesterday I talked to the social worker. Good news first: the county has definitely decided to recommend that the judge bypass services. That's the best thing we can hope for at this point. The bad news is that court date scheduled for the 16th (where the judge can decide to bypass services) will likely be delayed because she is not done writing her report yet. RRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH ... I know delays are part of the game. But I keep forgetting.

Other scary crap: A sister of one of the alleged (incarcerated) fathers wants Z. They have to consider her. Even though the county is bypassing services, Z's mom can get her own services and will still have 6 months from the now-delayed hearing to prove that she has cleaned up. I never knew this. I thought bypassing services went automatically to TPR. And she is now in inpatient rehab.

Worst of all, best of all, she gave Z a very sweet card with a picture of her and Z together at the first parent visit when Z was only a week old, the one that nearly gave me a heart attack. And it is sweet. She's a person, darn it. How evil am I if I don't hope she can get her act together and make a good life for her baby? Why can't I be more like a Republican radio talk show host, all mean and hardnosed and callous, having no sympathy for people who make bad decisions in tough situations?

More pills, please. I have to get back to work.

What could be betta?

The ibuprofen has finally kicked in. Aaaaaahhhhhh.

On a related note (chemical dependency) I am about to go take Z in for a visit with her mom.

Notice me not using that clever name I thought of? Channeling good thoughts, positive thoughts, attracting good karma like a magnet. That's me.

On ibuprofen I can do anything!

A dollar an hour

That is how much I made on my garage sale last Saturday, if you don't count the time I spent setting up and taking down. I've been meaning to tell you.

Thankfully, no large talons were involved, and we were able to use the proceeds to fund our Family Night treats Monday night.

Vision

Z (I call her Zu now, like my great-grandma) in a new dress. She is of ambigious toddler age -- maybe between 13 and 18 months, maybe older. Her little jaw is set; she's tired of waiting. It makes her big, pink cheeks stick out even more than usual. A little mini ponytail of black hair is on top of her head with a white bow. The dress is white, too, and we're in the sealing room at our little temple down the road. Big brothers all in white look on from the sides. Her chubby little hand covers ours ...

Probably racism and blasphemy all wrapped up together

But what the heck, I will give you my true confession for the day.

I am working on a Web site with a very smart, together guy of Latino heritage whose name is Jesus. With the J pronounced like an h.

But when I type, "Questions for Jesus about Solar Thermal Research," I can't quit reading it as the name of Jesus Christ and therefore I can't quit laughing.

Although, you know, probably if I could get Jesus on the line about solar thermal he would have a lot of answers.

Premenstrual thoughts from the morning shower

• At age almost-36 and just about to get a Ph.D. from a barely-prestigious school, what kind of chance does my husband really have for an academic career? Would it make up for past missteps if he got a postdoc at a really hot place and worked really hard to get some publications done? Would I still have to work during that? Either way, how would I survive G working really long hours? I depend on him SO much.
  
• The boys go back to school today. I'm bracing myself for the calls from the teacher telling me that S is acting up. I so wish we could just be home together all the time. In spite of my griping it really is better than listening to other people complain about my beloved babies.
• How am I ever going to get morning exercise and scripture study done when Z likes to stay up until midnight and I have to be at work at 8:30?

I know there was something else that really bugged me when I thought about it in the shower this morning. It's gone now. Probably just as well.

Work Watch is back

Scroll down and look on the right.

Compiling it this afternoon has allowed me to feel somewhat productive while procrastinating writing a couple of stories. If you're brave you can now go immerse yourself in what I do all day, when I'm not blogging. My prediction is that you won't stay long. I enjoy it, but I'm kind of a weird person.

Good shtuff

Products and places I love lately ...

• Buchanan Hollow Nut Company: A local farm for organic nuts and dried fruits. I got some Christmas gifts here for my dad and G's dad. Also a couple of big bags of organic pistachios for our family. Fun place! Yummy treats that are actually kinda good for you!


• Beyond Bedding: The ebay store where I got the cute purple crib set.


• Crown Galleries: A new place for cheap bling.


• StumbleUpon: If you already waste too much time online, don't go here!


• NewEgg: An interesting place to shop for tech products. Got a screaming deal on a 2GB flash drive for G here. Time to get serious about backing up that dissertation, G!


• Kaleidoscope Toy: Hideously good online time-waster.
  

That is all the craven commercialism I have for today, folks!

Forget yourself and go to work

That famous piece of advice was, of course, given to President Hinckley by his father when he was a discouraged missionary.

It also applies to an anxious mom taking a foster child in for a parental visit. Last week and this week I have filled that hour with errands. It is so much better than coming home and twiddling my thumbs! Strangely exhilarating, in fact, to cram in as much as I can before picking Z up at 3 on the dot. Today I stopped at home, gassed up the van, paid the rent, and mailed a package. Last week it was Christmas returns. Too busy for that nauseating nervousness. It's a good thing. Plus I can look on the bright side and be grateful for the chance to do errands without lugging around the baby bucket.

When we took foster parent education they told us that parents will strip the kids down and look for injuries, marks, anything they can use against the foster family. Today I know meth mommy did this because she asked about a mark on Z's thigh. She thought it looked like Z had been pinched. How I wish I could have been the one to tell her ... YOU DID THAT. It was one of those blisters her little body made to get rid of the toxins she was exposed to prenatally. Now it's a little, dark-red scar. I talked to the social worker about it, and she's down with that ... we've talked about those blisters before. Finally, five weeks later, no new blisters are appearing. Thank heavens for that.

Another element of heartbreak today -- m.mommy gave us a bag of 0 - 3 month clothes. Some brand new but some that have clearly been worn and carefully laundered. I imagine these were baby clothes worn by her other children. She lost them to their father (a different father from Z's) a year ago. It's so sad, as I look at them. I realize Z has these family members she may never know. I wish it could be different.

Maybe most of all I just wish today we could have a clean break, not so many lingering uncertainties and sad memories.

Less than two weeks until the Jan. 16 court hearing. Is everybody praying?

American Idol starts that night so maybe if things go badly I can at least feel better by mocking the ridiculous auditioners.

More about S at 2

I was writing this as a comment at Bek's blog. It got so long I am just putting it here. Forgive my longwindedness ...

Once S dumped a whole bottle of liquid laundry detergent on my bed ... on my new handmade quilt and Scottish wool throw that my parents brought back from their vacation. Not easy stuff to launder and impossible to replace should I have ruined it. Fortunately it survived but geez!

Once he covered the living room rug with honey and crumbled saltines. I was so discouraged I just rolled up the rug and took it to the garage. Unbeknownst to me, DH cleaned it. He is so good.

Once he dissassembled an entire box of tampons -- unwrapped, popped out, unstrung. This is sad, but I truly didn't have $5 for another box of tampons and it freaked me out. That time I did remember to get out the camera, specifically with blackmail in mind, but I cannot find the picture now. Sad, huh?

Many times he locked us out of the house. Once DH was so frustrated that his "knocking" on the window got a little out of control. He broke the window. And you know if I didn't have $5 for tampons it was a little tricky to come up with enough money for a new window.

He could overcome any babyproofing device known to man and climb to any height. It was impossible to get him to stay in a time-out. (The therapist later said, "Isn't your husband an engineer? Why can't he just install a locking doorknob backwards on S's door?" My husband is not that kind of engineer. He's a hydrologist. I installed the doorknob with my lovely power drill. Vroom!)

He once screamed -- screamed -- for 48 hours solid. If you think that's a joke, it's not. I was so tired and freaky myself that I literally, honestly thought he was maybe possessed. I called my mom to come get him before I killed him. She had gotten enough sleep to realize he needed to see a doctor. I was too close to insanity to figure that out. He had a raging double ear infection.

We almost got expelled from childcare at the gym because he was so out of control with the other kids. Never mean, but just wild and physical. That was the low point that sent us to therapy. The gym was my only respite and the thought of losing it was extremely discouraging.

Where we went for therapy was The Children's Center in Salt Lake. We saw Dr. Doug Goldsmith. He was very compassionate and helpful. His main prescription was that I (mommy) find a way to get away from S (and A) for at least 3 hours a week. He recommended a part time job but was satisfied with my solution, which was having my dad come and stay with the boys while I went to the gym (since, remember, we were suspended from the gym childcare) and did the shopping by myself. It helped a lot. I was just tapped out. Dr. Goldsmith also assured me that S was not in fact a demon but an exceptionally demanding, difficult, and intelligent child.

We also took a Love and Logic parenting class through the Murray (Utah) school district that was helpful because it gave very specific words and strategies to use in the most frustrating moments. So much of this is about getting our own mommy emotions in check when our kids are out of control.

As for ADD/ADHD, I bring it up because Bek will get people making that amateur diagnosis and also people wondering if Cubby was a "drug baby" -- oh yeah, my favorite phrase. People will ask that, or worse, just assume it because he is black. A doctor or psychiatrist, though, will not diagnose ADD/ADHD until a child is 5 or 6, because the impulse control that is lacking in kids with the disorder (and for S it is the primary symptom) cannot be expected until between age 3 and 5. For those two years I was praying that S's impulse control would come in like a grownup incisor filling a gap-toothed grin. It never really did. I hear the next big step where he may be able to develop this is around age 14. We're crossing our fingers.

In the meantime I am sorely tempted to come kidnap Cubby for a couple of days. Do you think he would let me kiss his darling little cheeks?