For the third time in seven days, I have been called about placement of a newborn. All three looked like they were fast-track to adoption. Two I turned down and one I didn't call back about fast enough. At any rate ... just letting you know that yes, you can be placed with a newborn for foster-adoption.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Georgie Says
I met Oliver's state social worker yesterday. This is a really special treat, since she's only been on his case for ... oh, four months. Wasn't it sweet of her to come out and meet him since she's, I don't know ... in charge of the paperwork that controls his entire life at this point?
The worker--we'll call her Georgie--was actually quite nice. She seemed to genuinely adore Oli, which, of course, endears her to me that much more. And Oliver was quite a little charmer. I tell you what--he knows his audience. Detecting that this particular lady was keen on the "I'll throw a ball, you go get it and bring it back" game, he kept at it for a solid forty-five minutes. In between jaunts to find the ball, he managed to giggle, laugh, shout, dance ... pretty much pull off any cutesy two-ish trick in the book. It was edibly cute. Far cuter, actually, than the screaming fit he'd thrown for me as I tried to squeeze him into a pair of shorts that morning. But who's counting?
Georgie says that Oliver's case is very clearly cut and dry. Georgie says that she will be moving for TPR in November. Georgie says that she is going to try to convince Bio Mom that best-case scenario for her at this point is relinquishment. Georgie says that Oliver fits our family perfectly and clearly loves his mommy and daddy and brothers and sister.
Georgie says this will all be over soon.
This is what Georgie says, but I have heard too many social worker tales to believe Georgie fully. So I am still praying, fervently, without ceasing. Because the fact is, Georgie can SAY whatever she wants. It's what Georgie DOES that impresses me.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Meal Plan Monday
I don't normally participate in any of the standards--you know, meal plan Monday, Wordless Wednesday, etc. But as I sat here putting together my two-week menu I thought, what the heck. I'll post it. Why not???
Monday--black beans and rice (a staple at my house)
Tuesday--Mexican Pasta Bake
Wednesday--Sirloin and Black Bean Chili (every once in a while, I have to throw a cow in Logan's direction or he will mutiny)
Thursday--Spiced Corn Melangé
Friday--hubby's bday ... I'm still waiting to hear what he wants
Saturday--Fried Rice
Sunday--Three Bean Pilaf
Things you will notice immediately about the MG meal-plan:
1. We are about 95% vegetarian. Any meat called for in a recipe is generally substituted or ignored--unless I am making a concession for Logan's desire to consume flesh. In which case, the rest of us just smile and act like we can stand it so that he enjoys his experience.
2. I am a one-dish wonder cooker. Somewhere along the way, I abandoned the entree and side dish routine. No one here seems to care, and it sure saves on time, I can tell you that!
3. We eat a lot of beans. Yes, we do. I buy them dry and in bulk and they are a main food group around here. Thankfully, they are enjoyed by all. Otherwise, I'd have a problem!
Monday--black beans and rice (a staple at my house)
Tuesday--Mexican Pasta Bake
Wednesday--Sirloin and Black Bean Chili (every once in a while, I have to throw a cow in Logan's direction or he will mutiny)
Thursday--Spiced Corn Melangé
Friday--hubby's bday ... I'm still waiting to hear what he wants
Saturday--Fried Rice
Sunday--Three Bean Pilaf
Things you will notice immediately about the MG meal-plan:
1. We are about 95% vegetarian. Any meat called for in a recipe is generally substituted or ignored--unless I am making a concession for Logan's desire to consume flesh. In which case, the rest of us just smile and act like we can stand it so that he enjoys his experience.
2. I am a one-dish wonder cooker. Somewhere along the way, I abandoned the entree and side dish routine. No one here seems to care, and it sure saves on time, I can tell you that!
3. We eat a lot of beans. Yes, we do. I buy them dry and in bulk and they are a main food group around here. Thankfully, they are enjoyed by all. Otherwise, I'd have a problem!
Beco Butterfly Contest
Win a Beco Butterfly Baby Carrier and Beco Toy Carrier from Along for the Ride.
Click to enter one of these adorable baby carriers!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Rural thinking, suburban Momma
Sad news at our house--
The rabbit that Jo and Atticus co-owned passed away yesterday afternoon.
Unfortunately, Jo was the one who discovered "Weed" (as he was named by the breeder they purchased him from). He was stretched out in a corner of his hutch and (gross out alert!) stiff as a board. Jo immediately began screaming as if ... well, as if she has just had her first encounter with the death of someone or something that she deeply loved.
Times like this are always where I seem to prove myself just a little out of step with suburban family life. Remember the kindling drama of last year, where I ended up playing midwife to a four pound mini-rex rabbit in the floor of my school room? The one where I found my Papaw's farm mentality completely overruling my own instincts as I pulled a stuck baby bunny from its mother's birth canal? Well, I've since had quite a few parents (fellow 4-H parents, even) ask me what in the world I was thinking, and why didn't I just call a vet?
Rural thinking, that's why. This is the phrase my dh has coined for my easily snapped off affection for animals that allows me to deal with emergency situations in a very practical way. It is this mindset that allowed my grandparents to raise and slaughter 50 or more head of cattle each season. It is this mentality that makes chickens scratching in the yard living foodstuffs instead of pets. It is survival mode.
This is what rural thinking says when faced with a clearly unconscious rabbit in the floor of a hutch:
I calmly instructed Jo and dh to do the only thing I know to do for a seemingly dead animal--submerge it in the coldest water you can find and massage it's chest. Dh reluctantly took on the task while I tried (unsuccessfully) to calm three howling children (Jo, Atticus and Oliver, who really, really wanted a cracker).
"Any luck?" I called out the slider.
"Ummm ... it's stiff. I can't get it in the bucket all the way." He was right. It looked like the rabbit was standing in the bucket with his front paws held by his face. This rabbit was not mostly dead ... it was dead dead.
Fresh howls from the older two children. I ushered them away from the door so that they took in as little of the view as possible.
"Well, you know what to do then," I said.
Dh eyed me quizzically. Clearly, he did not know what to do.
"Bury it, hun."
You can imagine the shrieks of horror that followed. What will probably surprise you is that my husband joined in the fray.
Apparently, this is not suburban thinking. I really don't know what a good suburban housewife is supposed to do with her children's dead bunny. Benny, when consulted, suggested a burial at sea. A neighbor said that they take their pets to be cremated and scatter the ashes. Another friend passed on the number for the cemetary where their pet terrier is buried. I guess these options are far more civilized than digging hole in the backyard and setting Weed to rest there, but that was the route we took. The three older kids gathered round and said goodbye, and we carefully covered him with earth. It was a very quiet, respectful, personal thing. It was free.
Readers, take note: this is what happens when you're basically a country girl forced to live in a townhouse in WA. But, hey ... at least I didn't suggest trying to eat it. I may think rural, but I'm not a barbarian.
The rabbit that Jo and Atticus co-owned passed away yesterday afternoon.
Unfortunately, Jo was the one who discovered "Weed" (as he was named by the breeder they purchased him from). He was stretched out in a corner of his hutch and (gross out alert!) stiff as a board. Jo immediately began screaming as if ... well, as if she has just had her first encounter with the death of someone or something that she deeply loved.
Times like this are always where I seem to prove myself just a little out of step with suburban family life. Remember the kindling drama of last year, where I ended up playing midwife to a four pound mini-rex rabbit in the floor of my school room? The one where I found my Papaw's farm mentality completely overruling my own instincts as I pulled a stuck baby bunny from its mother's birth canal? Well, I've since had quite a few parents (fellow 4-H parents, even) ask me what in the world I was thinking, and why didn't I just call a vet?
Rural thinking, that's why. This is the phrase my dh has coined for my easily snapped off affection for animals that allows me to deal with emergency situations in a very practical way. It is this mindset that allowed my grandparents to raise and slaughter 50 or more head of cattle each season. It is this mentality that makes chickens scratching in the yard living foodstuffs instead of pets. It is survival mode.
This is what rural thinking says when faced with a clearly unconscious rabbit in the floor of a hutch:
I calmly instructed Jo and dh to do the only thing I know to do for a seemingly dead animal--submerge it in the coldest water you can find and massage it's chest. Dh reluctantly took on the task while I tried (unsuccessfully) to calm three howling children (Jo, Atticus and Oliver, who really, really wanted a cracker).
"Any luck?" I called out the slider.
"Ummm ... it's stiff. I can't get it in the bucket all the way." He was right. It looked like the rabbit was standing in the bucket with his front paws held by his face. This rabbit was not mostly dead ... it was dead dead.
Fresh howls from the older two children. I ushered them away from the door so that they took in as little of the view as possible.
"Well, you know what to do then," I said.
Dh eyed me quizzically. Clearly, he did not know what to do.
"Bury it, hun."
You can imagine the shrieks of horror that followed. What will probably surprise you is that my husband joined in the fray.
Apparently, this is not suburban thinking. I really don't know what a good suburban housewife is supposed to do with her children's dead bunny. Benny, when consulted, suggested a burial at sea. A neighbor said that they take their pets to be cremated and scatter the ashes. Another friend passed on the number for the cemetary where their pet terrier is buried. I guess these options are far more civilized than digging hole in the backyard and setting Weed to rest there, but that was the route we took. The three older kids gathered round and said goodbye, and we carefully covered him with earth. It was a very quiet, respectful, personal thing. It was free.
Readers, take note: this is what happens when you're basically a country girl forced to live in a townhouse in WA. But, hey ... at least I didn't suggest trying to eat it. I may think rural, but I'm not a barbarian.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Cloth diapering update
I realized that I haven't shared our cloth diapering experiences in a little while. Since that's one of the top five keyword searches that lead folks to this blog (the others being "homeschooling," "adoption," "writing," and "foster-adoption," in that order) I should do my readers the courtesy of passing along the fact that we are, indeed, happily still CDing Oliver. I mainly use the BumGenius 3.0s at this point, saving the pre-folds for back-ups. We have a dozen BG's, and I rarely run out. I do a load of diapers every other evening, and that keeps things moving enough to generally have a BG on hand. The pre-folds and Bummis, I've found, are great for certain times of the day, though. Nap times are primarily pre-folds. Don't know why, but they seem to handle that time period better. Overnight I use a BG with a doubler, just in case, though we've only had one night that he leaked.I did, finally, figure out the snappi, too.
That was a lifesaver once Oli started walking, as the fold I'd been using caused too much bulk in the front for a walker to really, you know ... walk. So I switched to a twist-fold and use a snappi to secure it before Velcroing on the Bummi wrap.All of our diapers still look pretty much brand new as far as I'm concerned. The BG inserts have some staining, but I've yet to try the sunning it out procedure. The velcro tabs are holding up nicely, and I've only had some slight curling on the edges of the Bummi tabs. That's after months of constant use and washing.
Follow along with me now
I really dig this whole "follow this blog" concept that blogger has going on now. I added most of my favorites (except for those of you who haven't set up feeds yet ... BAD BLOGGERS!!!) and now I can just see new posts on my dashboard every time I log in. Cool! Since I had never mastered the whole feed thing prior to this, I feel like the technology has finally caught up to my ineptitude. Got to love that.
Anyhow, if you'd like to follow this blog, scroll down until you see the "Followers" box on the right hand side. Click "Follow this blog" and watch as you're updated on all the happenings here at Books and Bairns ... with no effort on your part.
Anyhow, if you'd like to follow this blog, scroll down until you see the "Followers" box on the right hand side. Click "Follow this blog" and watch as you're updated on all the happenings here at Books and Bairns ... with no effort on your part.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)