Plumbers

When I had a job, and a higher number of teenagers living at home, it was a much easier matter to get the chores done. Now I have terribly lazy children, who act as if chores are an emotional threat to their egos as well as a large number of younger kids.

I struggle each day to keep a couple of thousand of square feet clean, the bedrooms are everyone's responsibilities. Working feverishly I got to the bottom of the laundry room floor. There are not enough laundry baskets to hold 10-12 loads a day, the kids toss the dirty clothes into a pile, and I plow through. The clean clothes on the table all need to be sorted, that is a group effort and we try each afternoon to get them all put away.

I'm not real thrilled with this front loading machine, leaking for the third time in a year. Yes theoretically I'm saving 60% more water with each load, but if it's just going to puddle up on the floor then I'm not impressed with the environmental aspect here. I already have the plumber finally coming this morning as now three toilets, an all time record, are out of commission.

And Dr. G coming to address the other toilet issue...that of Mr. Feces Flinger and his plumbing issues also. We know he poops...must he physically share it with us?

After finishing the clothes and sweeping out the laundry room, the day had flown, the kids were back home strowing everything everywhere, I was proud to see the end of the dirty clothes, but the pile that remained to be folded and put away was daunting. Then everyone took off that day's clothes...bookbags, shoes and socks, papers and toys everywhere.

Truly I'd spend much of the day bellyaching to Sarah about how unappreciated I felt. Duh, fuss about the obvious, but sometimes I need to get it out. Sarah'd cooked me an amazing pasta dish with scallions, asparagus and Gorgonzola cheese; I'd squirreled some away and chowed down last late night also, savoring each spiced up bite.

I'd received an email from someone that I'd lost touch with for several years. She, Pat, is also a single, working mom of a large family and she allowed me to share her feelings,"Cindy, I am convinced your blog is all that's keeping me glued together some days and keeping MY teens from being back in fostercare! Just to know that I am not the only one in the world dealing with raging, hormonal, angry, destructive lying children who in a flash of the eye can become sweet, darling, caring young people helps me to believe that this too shall pass."

Of course this feeds my own ego and helps me not feel so alone. Alone being a curious word when one considers that I live with 27 other people and have another couple of dozen nearby relatives. I don't get many compliments here, so I greatly appreciated Pat's words as well as hearing from Cathy in Minnesota who shared an interesting story about her girls in Cambodia. I love hearing other adoption stories and I read other blogs as well.

Fabian has called twice this week, sobbing on the phone when Tabby said, "I love you Fabian." He wrote a pile of letters also, individually to the kids, telling Vanessa that he kept dreaming he was home, but dismally waking up there at YDC. Hardheartedly I have to remind him, "Son, you told me, and you told the deputies, that your life would be better there than here with me, you need to think before angrily running that mouth of yours." Who doesn't like an I told you so moment? Maturity not being my strong suit obviously.

Finally settling down last night, Miss Alyssa and Joe came to visit. Nando'd given my jade plants a haircut which made me momentarily insane, and by the time I calmed down Joey told me he'd been suspended from McDonalds.

"Suspended?" I'd shouted. "Are you outta your ever-loving mind? What does suspended mean? You better call someone and apologize, straighten this out before I have to deal with you."

Apparently he'd disagreed with his manager. Too dern bad, boy they're paying you to agree, you have no choice but to agree. This best get resolved right dadgum fast.