When I'm wrong...

Get this, I was wrong about Pepe. Turns out that was a form letter that they sent to all parents when the kids come to YDC from a psych ward, he's actually behaving there. The social worker told me that it was not uncommon. I was baffled. Why send me that letter? This still does nothing to ease my fears.

I have an overused saying around here, "If I'm wrong, I'll say I'm wrong," in an attempt to demonstrate remorseful and apologetic behaviors to children who scamper around trying to cover their tracks when breaking rules, laws and policies.

I got nearly a full day of working in the gardens yesterday with everyone not fussing with each other, offering "help" for the fun jobs, and doing their own very minor chores in the house.

By the time I finally came inside I could barely straighten up my back, I was dirty but happy. My elbow is way less bruised now but sore as all get out. I was working on straightening it out, planning what I'd do after supper when i got to go outside again - kinda like a prisoner who gets yard time - when I heard a commotion.

"Mom the sheriff is here," yelled Sabrina.

My happiness evaporated, a thousand thoughts of fear ran through my head, I always worry about my older kids and I scurried outside thinking maybe I'd really pissed off law enforcement with my hissy fits over our ordeal the other week.

He was just dropping off court papers for Pepe's next appearance. "Wanna jump start my heart?" I asked him, trying to catch my breath, a dozen of so children hanging behind me, wondering if this was The Big One.

"Taser a kid, someone here probably needs it," suggested Martin. "Why waste a trip?"

"Are you kidding me boy? This thing costs about $25 every time we use it."

While I was doing stupid mathematical calculations in my head, wondering how cost effective it'd be for me to have one there at home, Martin quickly came up with one more bright idea, "Bullets are cheap, right?"

This was the same deputy who'd had to come out to my house some 15 years ago when a kid I was in the midst of disrupting had come after us with a lead pipe. He'd only been at my house for three weeks and his sister then had told of some unacceptable behaviors that had happened back in Texas.

This same kid, now in his twenties, has called me twice this week from Texas, sometimes I go years without hearing from him, sometimes I work to track him down and make sure he is OK. He ended up in a ranch for children with his particular negative inclinations and deviate behavior, the foster dad there has been his parental figure ever since and has done an awesome job.

I have a DJJ appointment for Fabian early this morning and we need to replenish our groceries since the kids have been home eating all week.

Grandma and Grandpa are back in town plus having Carolina and Monica on our property has really helped. Javy has a farm job at nine, I'll take the next three oldest guys with me, leaving only the younger kids with four adult babysitters for two or so hours.