Um… Archives

The odd requirements to become foster parents.

We’re familiar with homestudies – we’re already approved to adopt through foster care – but to be foster parents the study of our home and family is much more in depth and there are a few more required tasks we must take care of in our home in order to pass the final homestudy and health inspection.

  • put lock on laundry room chemical cupboard
  • put lock on kitchen cabinet under sink
  • put lock on bathroom cabinet
  • put locks on everything everywhere
  • get fire extinguisher charged and tagged
  • clean all the things

There are some requirements I find interesting.  Homestudy requirements are state specific but from what I’ve read and the videos made by other foster parents that I have watched, there are a lot of similarities.  Below are the ones I take issue with, but not enough issue that it stops us from pursuing being foster parents – just enough issue to write a post about it.

  • Refrigerators must have a thermometer.  I am not really sure why this is so important. I guess you wouldn’t want a foster child to get really sick from eating bad food but how often does that really happen anyway? Most of us have been successfully using refrigerators our entire lives and when they stop working we immediately notice.  (note: our refrigerator has a thermometer built in with a display on the front so it’s not irritating to have to do this. I just think the requirement is odd.)
  • Water heaters have to be set at or below 120 degrees. I get this. I really do. But I still think it’s ridiculous. We have always kept our water heater temperature much higher than that and we have never had a problem in all 22 years of being parents. The 5000 tap water scaldings (rarely, almost never, resulting in death) that happen to children every year are almost always kids under the age of 4 who have been left unattended in the bath. I feel the issue here is that people are leaving toddlers alone in the tub long enough for them to turn on the water and get burned and the answer is to stop leaving toddlers alone in the tub because more than 90 kids drown in a bathtub every year. Even my 6 and almost 4 years old kids who can technically safely bathe without me hovering are never out of my earshot while in the bath because I don’t trust them to always make the right decisions. Of course, having to set our water temperature at 120 is not a reason to deny a child a home and a family but it’s still annoying.
  • Create and display a floor plan of the home labeling all the rooms, the size of each room, who is in each room, where the beds are in each room, and all windows and exits.  This kind of makes sense except it really doesn’t at all and seems like an asinine waste of time and now there is a map of my house cluttering my once-clear refrigerator door.  If there is a fire I don’t think any child is going to be so confused that they have to come into the kitchen and look at this map in order to create an exit strategy. Our house is just not so large as to require a diagram to figure out the exit points, even for a child new to our home.  And a child too young to understand exits and how to use them certainly won’t be aided by the clever map on my refrigerator. Perhaps the bed room sizing and bed placements could be helpful to firefighters. But if we had an actual fire I hardly think I’m going to advise the firemen to please just look at the map on the refrigerator door. I just don’t get this.

    Drawing this was a bigger tax on my time and sanity than it seems like it would be. First, I had to search out a ruler. We have 7 or 8 rulers but they are never anywhere to be found when I need one. Then I had to use different colored markers to label everything and why are all the markers dried out all the time? I had to fend off tiny people who saw paper and colors spread out everywhere and thought it would be helpful to assist me in my efforts.  And I had to hunt down our home’s floor plan to get the exact measurements of each room and thank goodness we have those plans because I couldn’t imagine having to actually measure each room with a tape measure.

  • Keep all medications in a locked box.
    Just kidding. This one makes absolute sense.

For the most part, the requirements to become foster parents seem genuinely helpful to both us and any potential foster child. Having a charged and tagged fire extinguisher – good idea.  Having plenty of food – yep. Having updated shot records for any pets – makes total sense.

But fire map? I just don’t get it.

 

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It’s about nothing.

I already had a post mostly written but I typed it out on my phone while I sat in my awesome recliner feeding Lanie and then the WordPress app started acting like a fool and now my post is in limbo somewhere and I’m not sure what is going on there so now I get to start all over.

The post wasn’t all that momentous.  I was bragging on myself for completing my 146th day of running at least 1 mile every day even though I have a chest cold and there was this picture of my running shoes because for some reason that felt like a good idea at the time but, really, who wants to see a picture of my running shoes?

Also, up until just a second ago I thought monumentous was a word. Apparently, even though I’ve been using that word my whole life, it is not an actual word. The actual word is momentous. This reminds me of the hyper bowl scandal of yore.

So, in the end this post is really about nothing and I feel very Seinfeld right about now.  Seinfeld was a very popular show so I guess something about nothing isn’t such a bad thing.

Here’s a picture of my shoes.

You’re welcome.

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Updates happening

I’m in the process of updating the blog.  It’s going to be a mess for a little while as I’ll be doing it in my down time around appointments and football and schooling and music lessons and whatever else gets thrown my way.

In the meantime, you can discuss this picture of what I am pretty sure is an Eastern Diamondback rattlesnake that came a-callin’ the other day.  We found her (him? it? pure evil?) down the street and as I approached she turned around slowly and looked up at me like my cat does when he is waiting for some tuna water. Then she very slowly slithered away.

img_20160923_154417840-picsay

I was safely in my car, in case you thought for a second that I was out of my everlovin’ mind, but now every time I am outside when it is dark I wonder where this gal is and if she’s hungry and if she knows I don’t own any snakeskin anything and please take mercy on me.

I may let my boys have giant-ish lizards as pets but I’m definitely not a fan of snakes.

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Bubble ball. It’s a thing. For real.

Bubble ball.  It’s a sport where people run around with bubbles over their heads.  I can’t even make this stuff up, people.

I mentioned a few posts ago about Matthew’s football conditioning practice video.  Rabbit had it on his phone and finally got it to me yesterday so here it is.

This definitely looks like fun.  Matthew said it was awesome and he would very much like to do it again.

I have learned a lot about Bubble ball today.  There is an entire soccer-like sport out there where all the players wear these.  Adult men. In bubbles.  Running around kicking a ball and sumo-slamming each other.  I find the whole thing absolutely hilarious.

No conditioning camp this week and the kids are off of school so I’m going to go try to get some organizing done.

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That one time when a snake got in the house

I was looking through some photos on my memory card from the last year and came across one of a snake on our back door carpet runner.  I cannot believe I didn’t blog about this.  Or did I?

I think I’d remember if I did.

Because we have an abundance of people who do not pay bills living in the house the doors tend to get left open more often than I’d like and on this day that allowed for a special visitor.

It looks to me like she came in thinking this would be a good place to hold up and have babies and then realized that she had just gotten on the crazy train and curled up as small as she could hoping that nobody would see her.

snakeinhouse

Or she was trying to be the AURYN.

I suppose the cat could have brought her in. Fin prides himself on gifting us with mostly dead animals.  Or Maggie, my 2 year old who has no fear of animals but is terrified of the blender.

Either way a snake was in my house.  This is not some fictional horror story or creepy tale meant to frighten youngsters into remembering to close the door.  This is for real.
My life will never be the same.

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Lately…

coffeeownsme

And I’m not even fighting it.

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I was quickly scanning all the bad news in our world today when I saw this little glimmer of peaceful deliciousness in a small box on my computer screen.

It looked like a brown slice of American cheese but it was not American nor cheese at all.
It’s Japanese.
And it is chocolate.

chocolateslice

What you are looking at is a slice of Japanese chocolate and it made my brain instantly fill with delightfully amazing recipe ideas until I realized that other than sending my personal courier (aka Joe) to Japan to pick some up for me, there is little chance of me getting my hands on some.

If anybody wants to wow me for Christmas, or any other day for whatever reason, today would be fine even,  you can find a way to get me some of these.

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So many questions were answered for me.

And here we have a conversation between my second oldest and my second youngest.

Lucy (3): Joe, I need a herring so I can go cut down a tree in the backyard.

Joe (16): I don’t know what a herring looks like.  You’ll have to draw one for me.

Lucy: Well, I could draw it on paper if I had some chopsticks but we don’t have any chopsticks so you will have to get me some and then I can draw a herring for you.

Lucy’s (eyes suddenly very big):  OOOORRRRR   I could draw the herring with a crayon or a pencil!

She ran away and returned with a sheet of white paper and an orange crayon and then drew something that doesn’t resemble anything that exists anywhere.

Lucy: Wait, that doesn’t look like anything. Hmmm… I’ll fix it.

She added some eyes.

Lucy:  There. Now it’s a scary ghost.

Lucy:  Joe, I can’t draw a herring.  I need help.

Joe took the crayon and drew a simple picture of a fish.

Lucy:   That doesn’t really look like a herring.  It needs legs.

Joe drew some legs on it.

Lucy (laughing): Jooooeeee, that doesn’t look like a herring, it looks like a guy. He needs wings.

Joe:….

Lucy: Wait, noooo not wings.  I was thinking of an astronaut.  It needs wheels.

So, without further ado I give you a herring that can chop down a tree.

lucysherring

You’re welcome.

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Deal alert!

I used an explanation point so you would know that this is for realz.

Rabbit and I found this at the Walmart yesterday.  It’s called Poo-Dough. It’s a revolutionary product that allows you to make your own poo for the low, low cost of just $7.96.

image

It looks just like the real thing.

If you’re like the tons of Americans who’ve been wanting to make their own poo you might want to hightail it to the Walmart and pick one up while they’re still available. 

Or, you know, you could just eat some food…

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math + months = chaos

image

So, when Lucy was a baby, just over a year old, somebody at the grocery store asked me how old she was. I replied that she was about 13 months old because she was.
What happened next confused me for weeks on end.

The lady asking the question shook her head and responded with, Oh, I don’t do months.

I didn’t understand what she meant by that. What does it mean to not do months? Is it some kind of political statement? Is she trying to buck the system? Stick it to the man?
And if not months, what then?

I didn’t ask her what she meant because I didn’t know what to ask and I was hesitant to spark a political argument with somebody I didn’t know in the canned food aisle of the commissary.

It dawned on me a while later, like weeks or maybe even a month that she probably wasn’t making any sort of a public proclamation, and that she was likely saying that she was either not willing to do the math, or was unable to work numbers on the spot.

After my kid is about a year and a half old I’m finished describing their age in months. However, after having nine children I have found that simply saying that my child is 14 months old or 16 months old quite often gives people a mental brain freeze of sorts, causing them to pause for a moment while they work out that 14 months is equal to 1 year and 2 months.
This is somewhat comforting for me being that I, myself, am number dumb.

Now that Maggie is 13 months old I’m prepared for those blank stares when I respond to questions about her age.

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