Daddy, Dearest

Our journey through fostering and adoption

Some Magnets Attract…Others Repel

1 comment

I have the three younger kiddos (8, 9, and 10) in the car and the 9 year old says out of the blue, “So, you know who’s a sex magnet besides you?”
A sex magnet? Me? Did I hear right?
…and where in the world did he hear that phrase?
I move on. “No, who?”
“Katie Perry,” He says.
“Oh,” I say, “You like Katie Perry?”
“Who doesn’t?” he says.

Sex Magnet, huh? Let’s see: This morning, I attended a Weight Watchers meeting (proudly down another pound), then drove my 12 year old to a chorus rehearsal. I returned home and retrieved the 9 year old for a run to Urgent Care to prove to his mother that he does NOT have chicken pox. I won. Or Lost. He may actually have scabies. As we waited in the pharmacy waiting area for his medicated cream, he loudly asked several times, “What is it the doctor says I have?” I kept telling him to pipe down because no one needs to know. I don’t think the woman on the phone (the one loudly telling her friend she was waiting for cold sore medicine) would have minded so much. Tonight, I have to slather the kid’s skinny little body with lotion. All of it.

I then ran to the mall to pick up a birthday present for someone in the 10 year old’s class. Birthday at the arcade tomorrow. The 10 year old MAY be going but the jury is still out as it all depends on how clean he can get his room to be. And here I am, a short while later with all three kids at the school, waiting to hear the 12 year old sing with the chorus. First, we have to sit through a children’s string orchestra which sounds remarkably like a hundred cats in a blender.

Sex magnet? Me? Sure, why not!

You Smart Aleck!

No comments

Today, our 8 year old finished up testing to determine if he’s an advanced student. His 2nd grade teacher set this up, saying he should be in a higher class. He IS smart. Any child who constantly lobs factoids at you is just a little encyclopedia soaking it all in.

On the way to the test (the second half), I asked him what he thought about the first phase of testing. “It was easy. I think I got them all right.” Okay, there’s sure, and there’s cocksure. At the test site, I thought it best to deemphasize the stress. I told him, “Remember, if you don’t do well, it’s no big deal. It doesn’t mean anything. Now, go kick ass!”

We were in the car on the way back home and I started to ask about this phase of testing. He thought he might have missed a few, but thought most of it was easy.

Me: “Well… here’s a question: what do you think happens if you didn’t do well?”
Him: “It’s okay. I know I’m still smart.”
Me: “And what happens if you do well?”
Him: “It means, ‘Yay for me!'”
Me: “Yes…but it also means we have to talk about whether we should put you in the next year’s class. That would put you in [the 9 year old’s] class.”
Him: “Does that mean I’ll get harder math homework?”
I thought about this. I didn’t want to frighten him, but we work on honesty.
Me: “Yes…I think so.”
Him: (under his breath) “Yes!!”

Gotta love a kid who loves school!

Food for Thought

Comments off

As the kiddos get older, they want me to teach them how to cook. The youngest two, ages 8 and 9, aren’t old enough to reach the microwave safely (to put things in and take them out), but want to try to set the cook time. Today, the 9 year old insisted on putting his lasagna in the microwave by himself, and setting the time to 1:30. I saw to this and then sat to watch TV. Shortly after, the 9 year old says, “Can I get my food? Can I get my food?”
Me: “I’ll get it when the timer goes off.”
9yo: “Why can’t I get it?”
Me: “You’re too short. You can’t safely take the food out.”
9yo: “But I can push the buttons.”
Me: “No doubt. You’ve been pushing my buttons for a long time!”

All four kiddos are home with strep today. Since they feel better than yesterday (despite getting shots in the leg, since I didn’t want Michael to deal with 10 days of medications per child while I’m in Florida), I told them to clean their rooms. While picking up around the living room, I found a pair of sneakers.

Me: “Whose are these?”
10yo: “They’re mine…but I didn’t put them out there.”
Me: “Well, they didn’t sneak out there on their own accord.”
9yo: “Hey, they ARE called ‘sneakers’…”


Go West, Young Man!

Comments off

Ah, the joys of having a school-aged child. Imagine mine, with four.

First, there are the dreadful and dreary school chorus and dance performances. I’ve had to sit through four or five of them so far this school year. The dance ones are by far the worst: Watching Johnny and Mary stomp across the stage, demonstrating “angry”! Here Jimmy and Suzie go, with flailing scarves, representing sadness! Ugh. Give me a scarf and I’ll show you pissed off! The choruses are little better: 30 kids with kazoos, not a one can snap fingers in time to the music. But there are TJ’s parents, whipping out the video camera and filming away. Is this how Scorcese got started?

Then, there are the school science and history projects. I know, I know: you aren’t supposed to help the child with the project. Let him or her do it by themselves. But there you are (true story) up at 4am to help the child do a report on rare spices and to bake cookies using one of the ingredients from the report. (I never DID find out his grade for all the hard work I…I mean…he did).

So I sit here today, tired after trudging through a report on William Clark, explorer, including helping the 10 year old to do a bullet list of important events, pull pictures from the net, and create a 20×30 poster board for presentation. If there’s any benefit to me from all of this, you could ask me anything…I know all about him now!

Told Ya So!

Comments off

I always tell the kiddos “that’s because I know everything. I’m always right.”

Our 9yo has a bad habit of doing laundry on the weekend (yes, we make them do their own) and then complaining by Tuesday that he has no underpants or socks (usually claiming his brother took them all). I should note, he calls them “panties” and I have to correct him, saying “Panties are what girls wear”. Sorry if that sounds sexist, but I was taught that boys wear underpants, girls wear panties. Boys wear trousers, girls wear slacks. Anyway, last weekend, I told the 9yo to lay out all of his clothes for the week so he wouldn’t be missing anything. Today is Friday. Yep.

9yo: “I have no socks! My brother took them all!”
Me: “Didn’t I tell you to lay out all of your clothes for the week?”
9yo: “I did…but I didn’t lay out socks.”

He comes back in with one sock.

9yo: “I found one sock…I need another.”
Me: “Check the laundry room floor. You always pull your clothes out of the dryer and drop things.”

He runs off, comes back with a second sock on.

9yo: “Jeffrey, how ‘cum you’re always right?”
Me: “It’s a talent, kiddo.”

I Can’t Hold It In!

Comments off

So the 9 and 10 year old get home from their visit and I advise I saved some Arby’s for them.

10yo: “Oh, no…I can’t eat anything. I almost threw up in class!”
9yo: “I’m not hungry. If I eat anything, I could throw up!”
Me: “Oh, that’s a shame…I was going to give you a cookie.”
9yo: “What kind???”

Yeah…I used to have a “dessert room” in my stomach, too!

Show ’em Love

Comments off

It’s Valentine’s Day, the day to express your feelings for loved ones . I gave each of the kiddos a small heart shaped box of chocolates .  The 9 year old turns and says , “Happy  Valentine’s  Day, Jeffrey…now go and put  30 people in jail!”

St. Valentine is somewhere turning over in his grave .

Do You Want Fries With That?

Comments off

Today , i planned to make chicken cordon bleu for the boys . But as happens when you have kids , you can never rely on plans to go smoothly . The 9 year old has had eye issues and they thought it was pinkeye. Five days later , no better , so we went back to the doctors . By the time we were done , it was too late to cook dinner , so we stood at McDonald’s.  The 9 year old keep pushing me for a Grand Mac, something bigger than a Big Mac.  He insisted he could eat one .   Amazingly , when it came to figuring out what to get the  8 year old for dinner , the 9 year old instigated that HE shouldn’t get a Big Mac.  “I know  8 year olds… YOUNG 8 year olds, and they can’t finish a Big Mac by themselves !”  Gee… I didn’t realize one year made all that difference in a meal !

What’s Your Sign?

Comments off

Just a short funny today . The boys have some nice , glossy  science books and were telling me all about Neptune and showers . They happened upon birthstones and the 12 year old told the 10 year old , “See? There’s only one stone for each month .”  Apparently , the 10 year old had been having that he had several birthstones . I told him that it was just an effort by jewelers to sell more gems.

The  10 year old them turned to the zodiac, saying , “My…what’s it called ? My horseshoe is Capricorn, the goat.”  We have a one-point leaner, folks!

One of the hardest things I’ve found about being a parent should be the simplest: meals. After all, when I get home from work, I simply forage around the fridge and make whatever looks good. But now I’m cooking for six and things aren’t quite that easy. My Instant Pot has been a blessing, because I can usually whip up a meal in no time–given that I know what I want to whip up and have the ingredients, that is. I’ve made beef stew, chicken and dumplings, pulled pork, chili. I try to make a variety of dishes to expose the kiddos to different cultures and tastes. But the inevitable happens frequently: out comes the catsup, out comes the BBQ sauce, out comes the honey mustard. Catsup– on PORK. BBQ sauce on steak.

Tonight, I made curried lamb. A nice curry sauce, celery, potatoes, carrots. And yes…out came the catsup, out came the BBQ sauce. Philistines!