It's almost Mother's Day....and I'm choosing worms.

The second Sunday in May is for remembering our mothers. I am working hard to re-introduce 'my girls' to their birth mom. She lives less than 2 miles from where we live. I visited with her last Sunday to take a couple of pictures of her; and to talk with her about what she'd like to see for her girls. I emailed the caseworker of the two girls (two sisters) in my home asking for permission to take their mom out for a Mother's Day lunch, with her girls.

The girls and I are going to meet with their brothers this weekend to take more pictures, so I can frame them and have them give it to their mom for Mother's Day. Their mom has had the same job for 27 months, and lived in the same home for a year now. I will be with the girls during any visits we have and I will remind their birth mom not to talk 'big people talk' with them, or to bad-mouth their dads. Other than that, it should go just fine...
A couple of weeks ago the caseworker expressed concern to me about my wanting to do this, she said 'You'll be opening a can of worms'. But, roots are more important than worms, and I can clean up the worms I release...but I won't be able to look my girls in the eyes, as the years go by, to tell them why I never encouraged them to have a relationship with their mother. So, I'm choosing the worms (if there really are any). Anyway, worms live around roots, don't they? It kinda comes with the territory!
And I can hardly wait to see them together on Mother's Day. Their mom deserves it and her (our) girls do, too.

Staying Stuck

Last Friday was 'early out' day for my 10 yr old. I asked her if she wanted to run some errands with me before her sister got home (it's always nice to spend one on one time with her). We headed out to the truck and I got in and buckled up; then she jumped into the passenger seat and buckled up. Now, I need to share a little bit of history with you. Normally, she rides in the back because the sign on my visor says 'children under 12 may be killed by airbag deployment'...or something like that. So the rule in our house is: Until your 13th b-day, you sit in the back seat. She has never tested this before today. So, I thought, 'Don't get bent out of shape over this, Nance. Just calmly remind her of the rule.' So, I did.

ME: "Dear, you need to sit in your seat, remember?"
HER: "No, I want to sit up here with you, today. PLEASE?"
ME: "Sorry, kiddo. The rule is, not till you're 13. Go on, jump in back."
HER: "Come on Nancy, PLEEEEEEASE?"
ME: "We'll just sit here in the garage, until you sit in your seat." and I turned the radio on
HER: "Fine!" (as in, 'i'm fine sitting here in the garage listening to the radio')

We sit there, we talk, we sing a few lyrics...and she asks:

HER: "So are we going, or what?"
ME: "As soon as you buckle up in the back."
HER: (pause) "Fine....(this time it's the 'Fine, I give up, I'll move to the back.')

She unbuckles from the front. I have bucket seats in the front of my truck so she begins to squish her behind through the seats into the back (remember she is only 10 and she is quite petite). She slips down between the seat and the middle console where the bottom 1/2 of her legs still lay.

HER: "I'm stuck!!!"
ME: "No, you're not, come on, now, get up."
HER: "I can't I'm stuck."
ME: "Please pull yourself up and get into your seat." (i'm starting to get pissed off)
HER: "No, really, I'm stuck, help me."

We have already wasted precious Friday afternoon minutes on this topic; and for some reason, my normally cool demeanor began to bubble up. So, I unbuckle, and I get out of the truck.

ME: "I'm not going to argue with you about this. I'm going to sit in the back and when you pull yourself out, let me know, and we'll go."

I close my door and I immediately hear her begin to wail.

HER: "Naaannncccyy?! I'm STUUUCCCKKK!" and she's crying.

I ignore her...2 minutes....5 minutes....

HER: "Naannnncccyyy!! Pllleeeaaaasssseeee, help!!!" wailing....

I ignore her...8 minutes now....and I'm thinking, "JUST PULL YOURSELF UP!"
10 minutes....and I can't wait it out any longer.

I open the front door of my truck. I don't even have time to say anything. She reaches up to hold the top of the two bucket seats and pulls herself up. I am really mad that she has wasted all of this time over where she's gonna sit in the damn truck! Playing these control games with me. And she's sobbing...trying to catch her breath, type of crying. I just don't get it.

ME: "Why did you choose to stay stuck, when you knew all along how to get out?!"
(As soon as those words came out of my mouth I was furious with myself)
HER: "I guess I just wanted you close."

Oh man...she wanted me close for support? Maybe. Why did I make this such a big deal to begin with? BECAUSE I HAVE CONTROL ISSUES!!!

Foster parenting is showing me how big of an issue that is. Now, to give myself a break, I've lived alone for about 8 years prior to my being a foster parent. And, I've NEVER been a mother before 7 months ago...and I'm 49 yrs old. So, this is a sharp learning curve for me.

So, how did this end? I sat in the back seat. We talked. I hugged her, I kissed her head and we ran our errands and the evening was fine; zero problems. But this phrase that came out of my mouth has been in the forefront of my mind ever since. I have been quite introspective about where I'm 'stuck' myself, and why am I choosing to stay there? Any thoughts?