Underroos

I have so many things to talk about.

My visit to the yoga center that helped eliminate my worst pain that I've had for over a year, in under an hour.  No.shit. (sorry about the language but it's THAT incredible.)

The Free Bryan Post seminar- one word...awesome!

But instead I am going to talk about my near mini break down in the boys underwear  aisle in a certain store thats open 24 hours.

Tonight was the start of our tax free holiday weekend. For the first time ever, I decided to go in the middle of the night because it is a zoo during the day.  So at midnight my mom and I headed over.

This is when I stock up on school supplies and buy the kids their new clothes. Socks, undies, bras, jeans, shoes. You name it.

So. I'm in the boys sock and underwear aisle and I'm looking through all the spidey, sponge bob, nemo, toy story, transformers underwear when I realize I can't find a size 10. The boy has been wearing an 8 and I wanted to buy the next size up. So I flip a package over and freeze.

It says they only go up to size 8.

Now, I'm hoping flo is coming for a visit or something because I got sentimental. Yep. Over the boys undies. He was 4 when he was placed with us and for some reason that I hadn't realized before, I was very careful about the underwear I chose for him.  It was like something special because I was able to combine something he needed with something he liked and I had suspicions that the underwear were a BIG deal to him.

Ok, quick story...I know the underwear were a big deal to him because he had bragged about them and how the other kids were going to think they were cool and we had a conversation about under clothes being, well you know, under.  He had wanted to take them for show and tell to preschool. Unfortunately, I can't remember if I let him or not. lol!

Anyway, as I stood there devastated, I started to think about how much he's grown and how stupid his egg donor is for not caring enough to make sure he was safe and taken care of and all the stuff she's missed/missing out on and I started to get teary eyed.


Yeesh. I know.

Weird-O! right?

I grabbed a package of size 8 Transformers underwear for old times sake and then I grabbed a package of the medium plain white underwear.

Yet another milestone in our home. No more little ones...  a bittersweet day it is...

Getting Back to Good...

I've been doing a lot of reflecting about myself. Who I was and who I have become now are two different people. I'm not happy with who I have become. I've never been so insecure and complaisant.  I've never been a quitter but in a sense, I have quit.

I have several posts in drafts that never seem to make it on here. I don't really like my writing anymore. It's rushed and jumbled just like all the other thoughts in my head.  My mind has raced for as long as I can remember, but the parts where I can't remember things or form a sentence are new.

Last week, while I was out grocery shopping, my mom had a free reading of her aura done.  She insisted I give it a try. I sat down and said nothing as the woman went through my reading. She showed me where the colors insisted I had strong ideas of how the world and things are supposed to be (check). She told me that I loved to love people (hmmm....).  She told me I had a good heart and was a person who liked to laugh but hadn't been able to in a long time.  She showed me all the black and told me it represented people who were against me and suppressing my joy and happiness.  She told me I was under a huge amount of stress and asked me what was wrong with my shoulder. At the time, nothing was wrong.

I decided to confide some of my stress because in the background my mother and grandmother were arguing behind me in spanish loudly. For some reason my grandmother decided it was ok to spit anywhere now. UGH.

So my mom was disgusted (of course). I was embarrassed, but c'est la vie. I mean what can I do but clean up and apologize?  Anyhow, I got that look and I realized that is part of my problem.  I will never be just a mom like everyone else.  Or even just a person.  Even though I have aged so much in the last 4 years, I still look younger than I am. I am that poor girl with the jacked up family. I get pity stares because of my life. The woman asked if she could give me a hug and she whispered in my ear that she thinks she can help me.

I didn't feel this bad about my life when everything started.  I didn't realize it was person after person who made me feel bad about my life.  Made me feel like I've wasted my life.  I had so much potential and this was what I was doing with it. As if this was a bad word.  

It was me...past tense.

I fell into it and I fell apart.  I wanted more but I gave less.

I fell into the pity party because every time I tried to pick myself up, I got kicked back down again and it started to take me longer and longer to get back up.  RA was the last straw because I felt even God was kicking me when I was down.

Last night and all day yesterday I had a major flare up.  It was my fault. I've been in denial about the RA and wasn't taking my pills.  I screwed myself.  As I laid in my recliner trying to breathe, I tried to figure out what I was supposed to take from all of this.  What was my lesson?  

I forced myself to do things,  my mom drove me so I could go grocery shopping. On the way there, the window had been down and my hair had blown across my face with one strand teasing across my forehead causing it to itch almost unbearably. I tried to make a joke of it because I was afraid to move because of the pain. My mom reached over and pushed my hair off my face. Tears sprung in my eyes. That voice told me this is what I had been reduced to and for what purpose? How was I supposed to help when I couldn't even do for myself?   

I was always the type to keep pushing through all the crap. I had to be the best. I had to prove that I wasn't like the family I came from.  All I had was my faith. I did things blindly and without question because I thought it was what God wanted of me.

Now, I am just lost. Trying to find all the pieces so I can put me back together again.  That in the midst of raising 5 troubled kids,  taking care of my husband, my mother and grandmother.

I'm not looking for pity.  Maybe I'm not even trying to understand why anymore.

But I know something has to change, and I know that I have to make it happen.

When fear collides...

Hello, my name is Sasha and I'm a dumb@$$.

Remember, that post where I ended with the words "my eyes are open"?  Well let's just say my allergies clouded them over for a few.

Apparently I share the same condition as my children.  I scared the crap out of myself with the idea of what CDQ was going to do to tear apart our family. She has been so hateful and accusing. That day that I drove her to the therapist she acted all smug-like. I was sure she had a whole set of lies to get herself out of our home. Because she is a child and is unaware of the weight of her words, I was terrified by whatever lies she would conjure up.

CDQ did not let me see her, the real her.  I didn't understand that her hatefulness and heartlessness was a coverup for protection.  I kept telling myself that she was scared and I would tell her too that she was scared. But somewhere it got jumbled and I started to believe her. I think it had to do with my fear of being unable to protect the other children and my husband from her.

Anyhow, last Friday the therapist had given me "prescriptions" to work on with CDQ.  10-20-10 of undivided attention. Meaning give her 10 minutes in the morning, 20 minutes during the day and 10 minutes at night and to tell her at night that I loved her and was glad she was in our family and that I would always be there for her.  Then last appointment when both CDQ and I met with her, she wanted me to lightly rub CDQ's temples, run my fingers along the curve of the skull behind the ear, along her shoulder, down her arm ending on the front of her hand between her pinky and ring finger.

I will confess that I wasn't able to do it. I haven't even been able to look her in the eye. When I woke up today, I thought I could just run away. After I poured my heart out to the bestest Hubbins ever and went out to grab some dinner, I felt a release.

So tonight, I trudged into her room bracing myself for the abuse.  I saw the fear in her eyes when I came into the room. She was lying down and sat up quickly. You could say we both braced ourselves.  I told her I was there to do what the therapist said we should do.  I pretended like I didn't know exactly what I was supposed to do and I let her show me on herself.  I did a brief recap of appropriate and inappropriate touching just in case (did I mention that I am terrified of her making something up? I did. ok.) Then I did it on her noting the pokiness of her ears, etc... That made her giggle, but I could tell there was something else going on.  I could see in her eyes the shift. I was dealing with the real CDQ now.

All of a sudden she was talking nonstop without pause.  Not in the combative way either.  I was worried she was going into a form of a hysteria...you know the one where people talk and don't breathe or stop? That one... But I realized this is exactly what the therapist was talking about when she said "it oozes out of her".  I had never seen this side of her.  I could smell her fear. She was sweating and I realized what she meant when she said she always has a fever.  She never does but she's so scared she's sweating but she thinks it's from a fever.

She was talking about how at night Freddy, Michael, Jason, the devil and her bio father get together in her room but from hell. (Yes, she's seen all those movies and more. ) She hears their voices from the floor discussing whose going to come up and kill her or how she is going to go to hell anyway.  I forgot "IT' the clown. I haven't seen the movie but he's part of  it too and she sees clowns on her wall and outside her window. The clowns tell her they are there to protect her but they smile at her scary and she's not sure she can trust them.

She also hears boys talking and telling her things, like if she looks down she's going to see certain things or if she doesn't do what they say (mainly looking at scary things she imagines are there) or closes or eyes she will regret it.

She thinks the Littlest Pet Shop Monkey on her wall is angry at her because it thinks she stares at it. Her baby alive doll scared her and she was mean to it and threw it and now she thinks the doll hates her and she's scared of it.

This was just the tip of the iceberg.  I reassured her she had done nothing to have a spot in hell and that no one could say to her that she wasn't going to heaven or that she was going to hell.  I addressed this first because that's when the tears started falling, when she thought she was going to hell.

I mainly let her get it out and then I asked her if I could hug her and I held her tightly and reassured her that she was going to be ok and that I would do everything I could to help her feel safe. She was clinging to me when I told her she should have let me know about the doll, I would never make her keep it in the room. I told her I was sure that the doll understood and didn't hold anything against her.  I also asked her if she only saw these things in the dark or if it happened when the light was on too. We decided to leave the light on for now.

I just checked on her and she is out. Normally she is huddled in a fetal position with her back against the wall and she is wide awake. Right now, her foot is hanging off the bed her hands are out in different directions and she hasn't moved an inch. Her monitor sits here on my desk and I can usually hear her tossing and turning.  I haven't heard that tonight.

I took the doll out and the Littlest Pet shop decals from the wall out too. Unfortunately, she feels every doll stares at her. I'm not sure a lovey is the right answer right now.  She even thinks the penguin on her bedspread stares at her. I had her flip it over and that seems to be better.

There's so much that I am leaving out, she talked about her her bio parents, other relatives who have passed. But I get it now. I really do get it now and I completely understand what the therapist was saying because I am sure this is the CDQ she saw.  I am certain it is.

Here I was sitting imagining my kids being taken away and Hubbins having to go into a home. For those who aren't familiar, this stems from the previous "therapist" who threatened that she could report me but would not tell me why.  I think it was a mind game she was trying to play on me and I guess it worked.

Anyhow, I still feel at a loss because I am not sure how to make her feel safe. I wish I could take all these fears from her and put them into her bio parents heads in such a way that it would transform into their greatest fears and that they would be plagued with the damn things forever.

Restraint

Possibly the one thing that therapy has taught me.


I've bit my tongue with the therapist several times today because in her world if she doesn't agree with you, you're the stupid one. How do I know this? Uh, maybe it was the rolling of the eyes or the shaking of the head or her exasperated voice.

We basically butted heads over forced affection today. She feels she knows more than me and that I am projecting my past abuses on the kids. As RAD kids she said they will push away from hugs and kisses when they need it the most.

But where I am coming from is I can see my childs reaction and *feel* what I see on their faces. I feel the fear, the disgust, the uncomfortableness. I know those looks I've experienced them myself.

Today she wanted me to hold the boy in my lap. He's been resistant to me because he's afraid and he doesn't trust me. I want ways to work on the trust issue when the issue isn't really all about me but more about his past hurts. He definitely has mother issues. I feel along with the trust will come the affection and closeness and bonding. It's been working fine with the others so far.

What I wanted to explain to her but knew I would be wasting my time is that, no, the boy may not have seemed resistant to her but she's an authority figure in his eyes. If she had told him to get undressed he wouldn't even question her. Not that she would but that's the extreme I'm trying to show.

My problem with forcing affection on them is that it's not affection when it's forced. For instance, my exstepfather hid behind that affection bullcrap and probably still does. He would force kisses on me even though I DID resist. It's not affection, it's teeth mashed against my lips, it's the taste of him pushing against my closed lips so hard he separates them. It's a violation. To my exstepfather it's "affection". Hugs that pin you down on the ground unable to breath or move under his weight. Biting him as hard as you can when all it does is make him push harder. But that's just "playing".

It started out as hugs and kisses but still felt wrong and like a violation because I didn't want them. I am not going to do that to my kids of course but I know that feeling of not wanting that, not wanting a person to touch or be near you. My kids have that feeling. It's a violation of their space.

I respect their space. They come to me for hugs on their terms and respect that. When I see they need a hug, I offer it without offense if declined. But I'm a bad mother.

At least, the way it was put to me is that there are the mother's that are earth mother's and we know who they are because they are everybody's mother. Then there are the mother's who think with their mind.

I am the mother who thinks with my mind apparently. That's what I have been informed by the therapist. She can't force me to bond with them or be affectionate. But I will only be a caregiver and not a mother and I will have to deal with that if that is what I want.

Yes.

That is what she said to me. Because I wouldn't force my son to sit and cuddle in my lap.

When she left the room, I asked my son if he wanted me to do what the therapist was doing or if he wanted me to wait until he was ready. He whispered looking at the floor "wait until I am ready."

How am I wrong?

I feel this therapist, who has never been a mother, herself has it all wrong. She might think she has the knowledge but I have the experience of certain feelings.

Because the boy didn't stay stiff as a board and because he molded after she pushed him into position she said it was uncomfortable but not resistance. He won't say no to an authority figure!
She likened it to a drug baby with stiff joints that has to be worked. If you are saying WTF? I was thinking it because I've got her down on that one too!

I raised 4 drug babies from when I was 15 until I was 22 with a one year hiatus while I was off at college. I know what it's like to hear piercing screams just because you turned on a light and it was too bright for the baby. I know how to swaddle a baby so tightly it would seem like it was too much but the pressure is just right for the baby. I know how to soothe a newborn who is crying just because it hurts to breathe and be alive. These things are in my heart. I know what it is to see 4 children be destroyed: beautiful, bright, happy, well adjusted children that I made that way be torn down to nothing. I know what it's like to lose a child to suicide. Maybe not my biological child but the closest thing to my own children this far. Moreso than these children who are actually mine now and only because two of them were with me since they were newborn and the other two were 3 and 2 years old.

For her to sit there and tell me I am a cold mother, She's basically saying the same thing my ex-stepfather told me- I don't know how to love, I'm not capable, she's trying to put me back in that victim position.

I am not a cold mother, if anything my own personal life experiences have put me in a position to see some things clearer than other people can. In her world her education and her social position make her better than me. That's also clear in her condescending manner.

That is the bottomline.

I can't wait until we are free from her.

I wasn't sure what my stance on therapy was at the beginning but I'm agreeing more with Kether's comment in the previous post more and more. But there's a part of me that wonders when I read comments or situations like Brenda's.


Who knows?

I just realized

After I posted my vacation post about going back to the therapist, I got a huge knot on the back of my neck.

It's been there ever since.

Well, actually, I realized it yesterday when I was happily minding my own business running errands and I noticed I had a voicemail on my cell. I checked it and it was the therapist and I felt sick to my stomach and not so happy anymore.

Should a therapist make you feel like crap and worthless because you're leaving her? My kids don't want to go. They only go for her snacks. What does she want me to do? She's off target and abrasive with them.

How do you deal with your kids therapists? Do you have to ask permission not to be there? Do they make you feel like you are inadequate?

Case in point, I know RAD kids need a lot of love, but do you have to always force your love on them? My kids come to me all the time for hugs and kisses and they have their moments where they don't want me to touch them, like seriously. I can respect that. But the therapist tells me that is when they need it the most. For me, being as detached as they are when it comes to affection type things and being abused, forcing yourself on me (hugs and kisses) is not going to make me feel safer and love you more.

As we were leaving one time, she asked the kids for hugs and they all stared at her awkwardly. They felt compelled to hug the woman because it was so awkward. I've been in situations and I can tell from their expressions. It's not because they are RAD kids, it's because she's weird. As a kid, I never thought to say no to those requests even when I didn't want to. It was like a personal slap in the face when she did that. I feel she keeps pounding into the kids that they aren't getting enough love and attention. There are five and they are at a deficit already, will they ever feel like they have enough? Probably not.

I can at least be proud of the fact that they told her they ARE getting enough attention and they DO feel loved. I just wish she would take their words at face value.

If that's not how a mind#$%^ works...

then please explain to me how it does?

Yesterday I told the therapist I wanted to talk to her about something but not in front of the kids.

I wanted to talk to her about ending therapy because over the last month the kids haven't seemed into it and they seem restless, especially now with the short change in them. I tried to explain to her how I feel like they are reaching out to us and like they just really need us more. Before it was like they hated us and were forced to live with us or something but since the change they want hugs and they want us around and to do things with us.

I've been feeling awful because I feel like I am not home enough. We are not together as a family enough and I can't even get in the appointments that they need or Hubs needs on top of that. I know I've mentioned here that I thought we needed some real bonding time.

When I told the therapist this, she told me that I am with them all the time moreso than someone who works outside the home, but the truth is, I'm not. Yes, we will still have doctors appointments and all those other appointments and I can't explain to her how her 6 hours a week actually take up almost 10 hours, what with driving. It segments up the day to where we are ALL running around.

I tried to keep most of the blame on me because I felt the kids were being honest when they said they liked it at her place because of the toys and snacks but they wanted to do other things with other kids and with us.

I didn't know if it was safe to let the therapist know all that they said. I guess what it boils down to is they feel that she is asking questions of them that she should be asking me and they don't like how she treats them when they tell her they don't know and she tells them they do and they are just saying that as an excuse.

It kinda hit the fan and I hated to do it but I had to put Poufy on the spot yesterday. She went in for her time after I had talked to the therapist and when she came out she looked weird. I asked her what was up and she told me she felt weird but she wouldn't tell me why. I asked her if the therapist had talked to her about not coming back to therapy and she told me no. So, I thought since it was just her and I,I would bring up the subject and see how she really felt. She told me she liked coming to therapy but she wanted to do other things. To me that was telling me she didn't want to be there.

When we were getting ready to leave, the therapist told me that Poufy indicated that she didn't want to stop coming. This puzzled me because I had JUST asked her. I told Poufy she didn't need to be afraid but she did have to tell the truth about what she wanted. Well she told her what she wanted and then some. The therapist seemed flustered and said "Well, they are liars, they lie all the time." I shrugged my shoulders because well, what am I going to do or say.

I'm telling the therapist the truth, why would *I* lie? I'm an adult, don't I make my own decisions?

Anyway, when I was talking to the therapist in the room about stopping therapy she was all over the map with reasons why not and how she wasn't going to take them back and the sacrifice she made by bringing so many on and how she never does that. I wasn't committing to anything because I hadn't spoken to the kids about it. I was just getting hints here and there from them and I wanted to give the therapist a heads up. I actually thought two of the kids did want to continue seeing her. But when I asked them last night none of them want to go back.

At the end of our conversation, she did the weirdest thing, at first I was confused but then I started to get angry. I guess she wasn't happy because I wasn't giving her an answer or something so she decided to threaten me, at least that's how I believe it to be.

She was talking about something that I can't remember exactly because what followed was crazy. She went from saying that she didn't agree with me threatening the kids and that she would never threaten a kid but she went along to support me. This doesn't even make sense. I told her it wasn't a threat, it was truly the end of the rope. Plus, I don't see how she went along with it because it's something that just happened at the dinner table that other night. It wasn't a plan. It was IT. I didn't tell her I was going to do that because I didn't even know I was going to do that.

She said something about being a "pissed off mom" I totally agreed with her it's not what I want to be at all. But then she goes on to say that I would be surprised just how much the kids tell her about what goes on at home. I was about to say I wouldn't because I know they tell everyone everything. That's one of the things they are supposed to work on boundaries and what's appropriate and what's not. But she was talking so quickly I couldn't get that in, she went on to say that her place was a safe place where they could say anything and she wouldn't and hadn't reported it.

I was nodding my head and I stopped there because I was confused by the hadn't part. I mean what was she talking about? I guess I stopped there because she also got this smirk on her face.

I was wondering what exactly because if she feels she needs to report me for cussing, spanking or making them pull weeds to earn money for the things they break than feel free. I mean, isn't that her job to report me if she thinks I am doing something wrong? Isn't that a total threat? Or at least meant to be?

I blew it off because if she wants to report me for the stuff above, then she's got a ton of work ahead of her what with all I see around me. I'm not saying the things I do is right. Cussing is a thing I work on everyday, I confess it as one of my sins and I am not proud of it. I cuss when I hurt myself or get mad and I'm cussing about something not *at* someone or even directly at the kids. I've even talked to the kids about it and told them never to start and that it's not ladylike or intelligent and a bad habit to break. I didn't start until I was in my 20s and I was trying to get my family to hear me. It seemed the only way they knew how to communicate. Unfortunately it stuck as a way to relieve stress, yet it doesn't make me feel better about myself.

Spanking I do not like to do. I haven't spanked anyone in this house for almost two months. It doesn't just hurt the child. It hurts me and probably does more harm to my hand than there bottoms. For some reason the veins or something in my hand burst. It's never happened when I've spanked the kids but I'm always afraid it will. I was just walking through the kitchen the first time it happened. I feel this pressure and than my finger swells and turns purple. I don't know what causes it but I've googled it and apparently it happens to some people.

Them earning back the money (from us) to pay for the things they have broken. I don't see anything wrong with that. I'm not talking about a glass or anything. Pulling weeds from the side of the house to pay for a dishwasher or a faucet or something. C'mon, there aren't enough weeds in the backyard to cover that. You know? When the weeds are gone the debt is paid. I've seen it gives them a sense of accomplishment and even pride. They earned something.

At any rate, I guess I'm stupid because my first inclination was to get up and leave as in that is the final threat that broke the camels back.

The other thing she said about them being liars is that she thought one thing about Poufy and her "drastic weight loss" (it was a freakin' pound!) and then it was all resolved with her condition and than she said they were liars and looked at me like she wasn't sure about the whole family or something. I could be reading into that because of the treatment we were given. She usually gives them crackers and juice and when Poufy started to ask if they were getting any she shook her head, rolled her eyes and cut her off and opened the door and said c'mon. Sent us all on our way, I guess. lol

But still I told her I would speak to the kids because this is really about the kids not me. It's either for their benefit or detriment. Today I go in to tell her what the vote was. See what she throws at me now.

Just being an Aunt

For the next two weeks I have my older nephew, I, staying with us. I didn't realize what a stress it was to be the "parent". I mean, I know it's stressful. But, last week when both my nephews were here with both their parents, I was the fun one. I was just the Aunt.


Hershey's kisses right before bed for a 2 year old ??? NO PROBLEM! How about I toss in some baby marshmallows with that? HELP YOURSELF! After all, do I really have to worry about it? His Mom and Dad can brush his teeth and chase him down all night. Right? I knew it bothered me that I couldn't just be the Aunt who spoiled them and that I had to be the "mean one". But I didn't realize it was a weight until these guys came to town. E (above) was so cute. I'm always strong with them when they first get here so they know they can't walk all over me or my home. Once they know the rules it gets fun. This little guy was hilarious. By the time he left he could say my name perfectly. Everything had my name in it and had to be seen by me. He would call out "Hey Sash!" Too funny! I hear that he's filling everyone's ears with my name back at his house.
I got to spend a few hours out shopping and talking with I (above). It was great to just have the one. I bought him a few things for his stay, as we weren't really planning on him to stay. Things just kind of fell into place for him to be able to stay here and visit after they were already here.

It used to be like that with the other kids. My oldest used to call me for advice and I used to take her to the movies. I used to buy all of them toys and clothes. I even took a few with their mother to Sea World back in the day.

I've always felt like it was my job to show them something better. But now that I have a different label. It's hard to know if I can ever get back that Aunt title or even find a balance between the two. I feel like I have to be more responsible and less fun because I can't have them thinking of me as a friend. It sucks.

I have a lot of thinking to do. It's such a weird space to be in.

Swimming and Blueberry rocks...

Today was ...different.

We had made plans to go out and about because we were only going to have the two six year olds with us. The other three were going to a girl scout function.

But at the final hour this morning, I got a call from the therapist saying that we were meeting today. I was upset because he had only mentioned 3 weeks ago that he thought he might meet with the kids. Nothing concrete. So we had made our plans to take the kids to see Santa and do some shopping.

Now he was meeting with them and going to take up all our free time with them. See since the kids have been placed here it's been all or nothing. We haven't had time with just some of the kids at a time to spend time with them and this was our first shot.

Anyway, we raced over and had the pics taken and a quick lunch and raced to his office. Hubs had blatantly told casually mentioned to them that if they hurried we might still have time to go shopping. So we started...

The building isn't ADA compliant and there isn't any access to the second floor for a wheelchair so Hubs stayed down by the pond with the girl.

The boy went first, about 40 minutes into the session he decided he really had to go. As he got up to go, we noticed that the girl was standing at the door. I could see through the bamboo shades that she was crying. I had already jumped up because I thought something might have happened to Hubs. I swung open the door and saw a puddle around her.

I thought she had wet herself. But then she wailed "I fffeeelll in thhhhe pppond!"

That's when I noticed she was completely dripping. I took her to the therapist thinking we would be leaving and trying to control myself from laughing. The therapist asked if I had any extra clothes. I didn't, but I had some sheets and blankets I was donating to Goodwill. I ran down and got her a blanket still thinking we would be heading home or at least across the street for new clothes and shopping as planned. But no.

I came back and he had got her some paper napkins and had her sitting there in session. Argh. An hour later and 45 mintutes from the time we had to pick up the other kids we emerged. We went downstairs and we were getting are things together.

I went to the pond to check on the fish and it was the cutest thing. They were all safe but they ALL swam toward me and were in front of me mouths opening and closing, bubbles forming. One fish swam to the side where some rocks looked like they had been disturbed. I could have sworn they were telling on the girl.

I said "Look, they are telling me what you did." She rushed over and her mouth was agape. It was funny.

We set another date with the therapist and as we were leaving the girl said that the boy was taking rocks from the pond area. I got on him and that's when Hubs said "Oh yeah." nonchalantly and starts to tell me that the boy had a rock.

While he is telling me this I am putting some rocks back into the pond area that the boy had disturbed.

Hubs is going on and he says "blue rock". The boy just kept telling him he liked his blue rock and it smelled like blueberry and that he was going to keep it forever and ever.

That's when I spy the chewed gum. It looks hard. I spin around and say "Please don't tell me it's that gum."

Hubs chuckles and says that since the boy kept saying it smelled like blueberries he told him to bring it over and saw what it was.

Jokingly, I told Hubs "Dang, if we ever have kids of our own I know I can't leave them with you." He said "Why?" I said, " Since I've been up there we had a kid fall in the pond and another playing with chewed gum!"

Good times, huh?

Here are the Santa pics, they came out grainy because I'm taking a pic of a pic but you get the idea.

When the boy got up there he whipped out a paper with a drawing on it. I had no idea he was going to do this but he took it upon himself to draw a picture of a remote control car he wants so Santa will know.

Mothers were melting...lol

Two down and three to go. I don't know if I'm going to let my 11 year old sit on Santa's lap. I think she can sit on the chair part or stand next to him.