Walk down Memory Lane: October 16, 2021

The following is an e-mail I sent to a few beloved people over two years ago, regarding my heaven-sent Standard Poodle, Toby, whom I had taken in three weeks after I had to put Lucy to sleep. When I wrote this, I had had Toby for less than three months.

October 16, 2021

GAH!! ::flailing::

At around 0415, I wake up to Toby scrambling in his crate, so I got him out to pee. Get outside, start toward the street--- Toby freezes, then starts barking his head off at poor Levi, my kind, long-suffering neighbor, who's just having a morning drag before work. I call an apology as I drag Toby in the other direction. Toby starts pulling me toward Brittany's, and finally pees there.

But Levi is returning to his apartment next door to Brittany, so I start Toby along the far edge of the playground, and Toby is happy to comply... because now he has to poop.

In the dark.

In front of the manager's.

And I don't have his bags with me.

And Toby is a wandering pooper.

So I patiently wait for him to finish dropping his multiple loads in a circle around me, thinking longingly of my own toilet, which I *should* have used before relieving the dawg.

And then Toby starts eating grass.

A LOT of grass.

And it becomes painfully obvious to me that Toby's tummy is finally reacting to the bacon grease (and probably several ancient pieces of bacon that had been tossed with it) which I'd found him devouring from the open trash bag I'd inadvertently left out from Thursday's kitchen purge.

And I won't be able to leave him loose in my home in order to empty my bladder or while I go pick up his poop.

So I drag him home, letting him eat as we go along, but having to pull him most of the way because I *really* need to go now, and I still need to pick up his droppings before the manager comes out to see it.

I finally get inside, grab some bags, then head back out to retrieve crap. I'm practically doing the pee-pee dance of my youth as I desperately search over a four-foot-diameter area for the excrement, which to my delight I discover is the same size and color of the fallen leaves. The last piece I discover by stepping on it. ::facepalm:: Fortunately, the grass is nice and wet (yay, rain!), so I can easily wipe my thongs clean.

By this time, Toby has figured out that I am NOT happy with him pulling at his leash, and is finally *not* trying to reach the grass furthest from my search area. In return, I allow him to eat a few more nibbles before we return inside. I tie a knot in the poop bag before depositing it in the trash barrel at the community center, then rush Toby home, permitting a little more grass-noshing before bringing hm inside.

I remove his leash, then start upstairs, softly calling him as I round the corner. He scrambles up the steps, pushing past me to reach the top first. I reach out and scritch his neck, then! grasp his collar and say, "Bed." Fortunately, he doesn't fight me and walks right into his crate. I latch it tightly, tell him, "Go sleep," then hurry to the bathroom next door.

Luckily, two things:

1) Toby doesn't bark in his kennel when he knows I'm in the bathroom.

2) Toby did not throw up in his crate as I half suspected he might.

Let's hope we don't have another night like this!

The saddest day...

... is the day you have to say goodbye to your beloved dog, who stood by you through the worst life had to throw at you.

Lucy came into our lives on January 3, 2010.

Today, around 0945, she was eased into her journey across the Rainbow Bridge whilst I held her in my arms and stroked and talked to her, even though she couldn't hear me. Youngest was there, too, of his own insistence.

As difficult as it was to decide to have Lucy put to sleep, I'm reluctantly glad that I did so. Ironically, had we been able to wait just two more days, she would have been part of our family for *exactly* eleven years and six months to the very day she came home with us.

Lucy was the sole reason I kept sane when my sons were taken from me. She helped me keep a routine that kept me from absolutely falling apart. Because of her loyalty and love, I chose to become homeless rather than give her up, determined that she would NOT be forced to go to a fourth home.

Lucy B., I miss you so much! Thank you for saving me from myself.

Long time no see!

Wow, it's been a very long time since I last blogged, hasn't it?! Sorry about that. Life has been BUSY!

A friend (former support worker) whom I've known for a few years suggested this morning that I should start a blog regarding my experiences with my sons, the youngest of whom is officially diagnosed autistic, the other having recently (July 2017) been determined NOT autistic... but mimicking autism due to multiple traumas in his life.

I think I may have to do that, because I know I have other friends who would like to know how we're doing... and perhaps more distant family members would like to know why we aren't better heard from.

So... I will endeavour to update my blog during my "official work time." (I am now a SAHM---Stay At Home Mom, for those who don't know popular internet acronyms--- and my therapist had me adopt a "work schedule" because I seemed to have fewer anxieties when I was actually employed.)

See y'all soon! Take care!

Theory...

Wow... it's been a while since I've blogged, hasn't it?!?

A lot has happened since then, including the fact that I am officially divorced, as of July 3, 2013, and am now a gainfully-employed person! I've been working for 3+ months now for SecurAmerica as a security officer.

I love my job.

Anyway, I labeled this post "Theory" for a reason, and it has to do with my job.

When I'm at work, I do a lot of patrolling... as in, I walk anywhere from seven to twelve miles during a typical eight-hour shift. (I wear a pedometer, just to make sure how much I'm walking.)

During that walking, I'm keeping an eye out for things that aren't supposed to be happening, or things which are out of place, or people who aren't supposed to be on the property, etc. And while I'm doing that walking, I have a lot of time for thinking.

One night whilst patrolling, I somehow thought of the movie, "Night at the Museum," (which I have NOT seen, though I've read the book!), and I thought, "I wonder what's the difference between a security officer and a night watchman?"

And I came up with my theory, based loosely on a combination of the movie and my job.

I theorize that a security officer makes sure everything is secure, while a night watchman watches all hell break loose.

::cue rimshot::

Apologies...

I need to be writing more often than I do. I know that. It's just that I don't think about it until I'm stuck somewhere and can't blog at that moment.
::facepalm::

I'm sorry I've been neglecting my blog. I'll try to get back into the habit, maybe even into the habit of writing daily... but I have to go now.

Two years ago today...

... my children were taken from me by DHS because my house was below community standards.

They were right to do so--- it was a horrid mess, though not as bad as some I've seen (no feces anywhere, and both my kids and our clothes were clean)--- but they chose a terrible time to do it, as Youngest had just come home from surgery to reset his broken right arm, and his pain was tormenting to both of us because he refused to take the medication given us for his pain.

Two years ago.

We've come a long way since then.

I just hope we don't have that long again until my sons come home to me.

Better late than never, right?

Sorry--- I’m a little late with this, but it's been a busy week!

I’m too freakin’ tired to go into all the details, so here’s the cliff notes:

Court was scheduled for 10:30am February 28th.

We got in around 11:15am (at least I think it was?).

STBX’s attorney was MIA.

My attorney suggested the following case go first while STBX’s attorney is found.

We all retreated to the gallery, except for my attorney, who had a client in the following case as well.

I knit 1.5 rows of my first shawl during this time, with my counselor Dan seated beside me. I quietly pointed out to him that my STBX was sitting behind us in the back row, in case he hadn't recognized my husband. Dan responded, "You knew you'd have to see him eventually," or something to that effect. I just nodded.

We resumed our seats in front of the judge, with my attorney between myself and STBX.

The attorney for DHS explained that DHS wants the plan to change from guardianship to adoption, and my STBX’s attorney stated that STBX supports this, and that he is willing to sign off his parental rights in order to do this.

DHS’s attorney asked Anastasia a number of questions after she was sworn in…

… and then the judge asked why the guardianship still is not in effect when it was requested a full year ago?!?

Neither Anastasia nor DHS’s attorney said a single thing while the judge reamed DHS for a full five minutes.

My attorney introduced evidence showing that I have improved since the last court hearing, pointing out that many of the examples of my failings used by the ‘prosecution’ occurred prior to the last court date, and got Anastasia to admit that I have not repeated any of those behaviors since then.

She got Anastasia to admit that even though it says in the court papers that I’m supposed to be involved in my sons’ treatment, I haven’t been allowed to be involved. Anastasia insisted multiple times that the service providers are the ones insisting that I not be involved since my sons aren’t living with me… but she had to state for the record that it has not been by my choice that I am not involved with my sons’ treatment.

She also got Anastasia to admit that my current home is now considered to be not just at community standards, but above community standards as far as cleanliness is concerned (thank you very much!), which was confirmed by Dan when he took the stand.

Dan testified that I have only missed one appointment with him in our roughly 1.5 years of my treatment with him, and that that was due to a transportation problem on my part.

He also testified that I have made significant improvement in dealing with my hoarding and collecting and with my anxieties.

All the attorneys questioned him, and oddly, many of their questions had to do with my parenting abilities, none of which he treats, and he patiently repeated that he could not answer that because he does not work with me and my sons together.

The kids’ attorney asked about my finances, which Dan explained that he does not deal with my finances, but that I have been working with Vocational Rehabilitation in an effort to go back to work so that I can keep stable and safe housing.

STBX’s attorney asked whether I have a storage unit, and how much money I spend keeping it. Dan stated that he does not deal with my finances, but that I have gotten rid of many of my things, including things I’d not before been able to let go, and that I’ve made significant progress in not collecting more items.

Dan explained that I have a problem with being rather literal/concrete in my thinking, and the opposing attorneys all wanted to know how I could be a good parent to my high-needs sons if I have such a high IQ but have to have things explained so concretely… or something to that effect. Dan explained once again that he cannot testify as to my parenting skills, since we don’t work on that, but that I tend to over-think things and miss what is actually meant by the things said to me.

Dan also explained that I do not intentionally defy rules or try to get around them, and that got all their knickers in a twist as well. ::giggles::

After Dan was excused, Anastasia brought up the letter which Older Son’s counselor wrote last October--- the one in which this counselor, who has never seen me work with my sons in a parenting capacity, recommended that Older Son be adopted by my SIL & BIL and have extremely limited and only supervised contact with me--- and the judge asked where to find it (in the six-inch-deep stack of case files).

Nobody could find it.

I waited a couple minutes while all the attorneys and the judges searched through their files, then nonchalantly opened my briefcase and slid out my copy of the letter--- me, the one who supposedly can't keep anything straight in order to parent my sons!--- quietly placing it in front of my attorney, who glanced at it but said nothing.

After a couple more minutes, I whispered to my attorney, “Should I bring that up to the judge so she can read it?” She looked at me and whispered back, “Stop helping them! You can help me, but don’t help them!” I grinned and responded, “That’s what I thought… that’s why I waited before asking you!”

Everyone else gave up searching for it after another couple minutes and moved on.

My attorney brought up that I want to be involved with my sons’ treatment, and that I want to repair the relationship with my sons' foster parents, so she’s requesting mediation for myself and the fosters, as well as more involvement with my sons’ treatment… or at least education about their issues so that I can better parent them.

The DHS attorney tried once more to insist that adoption is the better choice for my sons, and this set off the judge. She was definitely not happy with DHS!! She was very calm and articulate, but she made sure they understood in no uncertain terms that they had presented no evidence regarding my sons’ treatment over the past year, other than the letter written by Older Son’s counselor (which someone finally found a moment earlier!) and that she saw only improvement on my part, and that DHS is not doing their job, and she was not going to choose a different permanency plan when DHS hadn’t even completed the last one!

STBX’s attorney made it plain that STBX still supports the adoption plan, and he’ll support the guardianship plan, but he does NOT support a return-to-home for my sons. Surprise, surprise, surprise.

The judge’s final say was that my sons will stay where they are, in the same holding pattern, for 90 days, when we will reconvene in her court. There is to be mediation set up between myself and the fosters. And (I THINK--- I’ll have to clarify this with my attorney next week when she’s back from the East Coast) DHS is to arrange for me to start being educated about my sons' issues.

Again, I may have missed something. I apologize. I'm still waiting to get my copy of the court report, which probably remembers things I don't.

Also, I am exhausted, and I have to get up early for a meeting with my Youngest son's therapist... the first one in roughly a year!