Old picture, same greeting

Its Independence day Im free:

Well she seemed alright by dawn’s early light
Though she looked a lil worried and weak
She tried to pretend he wasn’t drinking again
But Daddy left the proof on her cheek
And I was only eight years old that summer
And I always seemed to be in the way
So I took myself down to the fair in town
On Independence Day…

Well, word gets around in a small, small town
They said he was a dangerous man
But Momma was proud, and she stood her ground
She knew she was on the losin’ end
Some folks whispered, some folks talked
But everybody looked the other way
And when time ran out there was no one about
On Independence Day…

Let freedom ring
Let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today is the day of a reckoning
Let the weak be strong
Let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away
Let the guilty pay
It’s Independence Day

Well, she lit up the sky that Fourth of July
By the time that the firemen come
They just put out the flames and took down some names
and sent me to the county home
Now I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, or it’s wrong
But maybe it’s the only way
Talk about your revolution
It’s Independence Day…

Let freedom ring
Let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today is the day of a reckoning
Let the weak be strong
Let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away
let the guilty pay
It’s Independence Day

Roll the stone away…

It’s Independence Day

- Martina Mcbride song

Happy 4th of July from the Baxter kids. Hope you all have a happy, but safe 4th of July, take time to enjoy that whats important.

July thoughts

I have a few things rattling around in my mind and I just cant seem to get them out.  I mean, I can?  But they make absolutely no sense, not even to myself, and even though Ive tried about…three separate times, I simply cannot get them out the way I want them to.  Frustrating, to say the least.

July is here.  Its final.  There is no going back now.  No turning the calender page backwards, only continue onward.  While it should bring some sense of relief that the month is finally here, it doesnt, infact…it adds a heap of stress to the already heaped pile.  I was thinking earlier about all the things that July holds.  Im not just talking about the usual, work, meetings, and holidays scattered through out, Im talking the things that are happening that really effect no one else but myself.  Things that arent on your average calender.

Today marks 11 months since Molly has been gone.  What seems really weird to me is that, while with Emmy, when things approached this day, my heart and chest were twisted and my mind was spinning out of control.  But with Molly, its more of…another day to accept it.  For whatever reason, it hasnt been that difficult.  Its something I havent talked much about because its something I dont understand completely myself, and to try and say something about something that I dont understand…well…Ill just leave it at that.

The 7th will be three years since my oldest sister has been gone, and once again, its more of accepting it, and trying to piece enough of a life back together in hopes of doing the same for her kids she left behind.  It also happens to be a distant friends birthday.  While its been a while since Ive heard from her, thats generally how it goes, with her birthday approaching, shes been on my mind a lot and her circumstances as well.

The days leading to the 15th are going to be whirl winded themselves.  Not only is there over booked tours at one job, and the constant supply of work at the other, there is the work I need to finish around the house, and the twice weekly meetings I have to attend, I now have to add into the equation that the state will be stopping in sometime early next week to do a “Progress Report” on the house.  Yea, that means I only have…a week?  Left to finish things up.

Then there is the 15th.  The day that I appear in court and try not present myself as the bumbling fool I am, in some small hopes that I will get the answers Im looking for, or atleast be directed in the same direction.

The days after, from the 19th on through the 1st of August, will be the days that Molly was in her coma.  The 19th would have been her surgery day, the 21st the day she went into a coma, and the 1st of August the day they unhooked her.

So many thoughts, ideas, frustrations, hopes, disappointments…and on and on.  But such is life.  Pick up, and carry on.  One day at a time, not stopping long enough to look back and take a closer look.

Just trying to pull together, all my thoughts and actually make sense of them.

No subject

I dont know a thing about kids, and most likely could be found standing with the rest of the guys watching (or not, depending) a capable woman wrangle 6 or more kids into an obedient order, but dont ask me to do it.

I might not know how to wash clothes, cook 3 healthy meals a day, or clean house.
I might not clean the oven (Ill be doing good if I clean the kitchen)
I might consider ketchup and juice fruits and vegetables.
The grill and I might not get along.
I might not know how to arrange hair, and appointments at the same time, or separate, for that matter.
I might not be able to keep soccer games and baseball games straight.
I might not remember to schedule dr appointments, dentist appointments, dinner, sign papers, that over due book, or movie, and still have kids in bed on time -all in one day.
Chances are Im still trying to remember where I left one kid, whos kids are with me, and what Im doing with them. Infact, I will be doing good if we all make it home…in one trip.
I might not be on time to every appointment, practice, or game.
I might not even remember, and yea, we will be the ones speeding in 10 minutes late, and sneaking down the row - but thats better then remembering the day after.
I might not show up to ever parent/teacher conference, and I might not look over report cards until a few weeks later.
I might not know whos tooth fell out, or whos pants are in the washer.
I might not be thinking 20 things at once, or 20 steps ahead.
I might forget a thing or two.
I might even not remember something.
I might sigh relief when the kids are in bed, and I might not get back up to clean after I sit down.
I might wake everyone up late, and put everyone to bed late.
There might not be a set “bed time”, and baths might not be remembered every night.
Teeth brushing most likely will be forgotten once or twice, and yea, you might see one kid with mis-matched socks.
I might even forget an item at the store, and I might not ever venture into certain isles.
I might have a hard time keeping laughter back, at all the wrong times.
Bad words most likely will slip like butter, and anger erupt like a volcano.
I might get mad a loud noises, and childish acts.
I cant balance 4 kids, a check book and dinner all at the same time, I only have two hand, and a small piece of a brain remaining.

But you can be sure this is all because I am busy. Busy doing things that I think I can do.

I can teach you how to make a paper airplane, and show you what you did wrong, and why yours wont fly.
I can show how to stuff the washer as full as you can get it, and how to sit on a suit case when it wont close.
I can teach you all about the oil in the car, and tell you the size of tires.
I can help you build a fort, two stories? How bout three.
I can change your bike tire, and grease your chain.
I can hold it steady while you climb on, and give you a little push, and I can watch as you wobble down the drive, and crash, and I can cheer you on, and watch you go. You can bet your bottom dollar that I will be at your game, even if it is late, and you will know Im there, because when the crowd grows quiet you’ll hear me yell your name, and some embarrassing statement.
I will, eventually remember that I left you somewhere, and where.
I can fix the toilet, and take that hairy spider out of the shower while you hide in the corner shaking.
I can hold him in my hand, and tell you his name is Fred, and that he wont hurt you.
I can carry you to bed when you fall asleep on the couch, or in the car.
I can assemble your bunk bed, and chase you around and around, and tickle you blue, and I can hear you scream and beg for more as you gasp for air.
I can try to teach you right from wrong, and try to steer you in the right direction, but chances are, you’ll make a lot of mistakes…
I can put the swing set together, and take the garbage to the dump.
I can lift that “Big box” and carry it for you.
I can build the dog a house, and even put a run up.

You wont go hungry (thanks to the neighbors) Youll make it to school (even if it is late) appointments will eventually be met (after a few trys) and eventually….You will grow up, and I will be left sitting in an empty house…wishing for it to all come back…so I can tickle you one last time, or yank your hair, or torture you a little more….but until then I will continue to rely on the neighbors help, just to ensure you make it to that day.

At the end of a day, I will sit down, and think it over. I will think of the things I did wrong, and the way I should have handled it. But come tomorrow, I wont change a thing.
I dont promise not to get angry, or yell. I cant promise I will always do whats right, or always show you how to live. I cant promise you that everyday will be the “Best day ever”. I wont ever tell you Im right, your wrong.

Ok, I will, but dont listen.

I cant tell you what tomorrow will bring, or if you will be happy. I dont know everything. Infact, I know very little. Dinner wont always be “on time” or even edible. Things (including you) will be late. Thats a given. A guarantee. But I do love you, and that, will never change.

I found this hidden in a pile of things I had written…nothing else was written with it, but it most likely was written after a bad day gone wrong, a few years ago, and while I find humor in it now, I most likely will be agreeing with it in a few months. As well as taking the “mights” out, and adding a few more things to the list.

Life goes on

Because my brain is fried, and Im to tired to write up something that would actually make sense, I will post this. Something I wrote the other day, but never posted. Well…I did, but I took it down. It makes sense to me, I lived it, I wrote it. But at times, there are things that I write that not even I understand. With my messed up grammar and spelling, I wonder if anyone even understands 1/2 of what I write. But oh well. My life. My shit. For me to understand.

The faster this month comes to a close, the faster next month comes in to full view, and while the speed of things should be somewhat encouraging to me, its really…been rather hard. Sure, Ive had a decent amount of work, both AT work, and home, to keep my mind occupied a majority of the time. Yea, Ive had enough to keep me busy, and Ive been distracted this past week with issues both at work, and home, but still…there comes a time when I sit down, and all my thoughts sit down beside me, and I reach my breaking point. Which is where I am now. Again.

Last night, my mom spied some of the scars I have on my arms from things of the past. She asked me where I had gotten them from, and with out thinking I blurted out the all to familiar story. The story that I assume most people are content enough with, because most times, its left at that. I blurted out that it was the car wreck a few years ago, or maybe it was…I dont remember…huh, whered that one come from. I turned back to what I was doing, but she grabbed my arm, and stared at me. “David, where did those come from” She shot a look to my arm then back at me. I stared for a few seconds. My heart started racing. I knew where they came from, I knew the day I got that one. I remember DOING that. I remember what it was over, and every small fucking detail that is stitched into that scar. My eyes dropped to the floor, and I jerked my arm back, pulling my sleeve down over them.

She left the room, I pushed back from the pile of things I was sorting and leaned on the wall. It was the day after Emmy’s funeral. The day my younger sister died. The day I was alone in the house, and reality sunk in. Standing there in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror, swearing, wondering how I had let things get so out of control, how things had suddenly went so far down, and now…I was sitting on rocks. “Rock bottom” I had muttered to myself. “ROCK BOTTOM” I yelled it. No one was there, no one could hear. Standing there, staring into the mirror, I suddenly got a sense of overwhelming numbness.

My mind went blank. I no longer had any idea who I was. No longer had any idea what I was here for, or really, even why. It didnt take me long to get back into the habit of it. It was a simple way to “wake up” to acknowledge that I was still alive, even when I didnt want to be, and finally, it was a way to redirect the pain, in a way that I could deal with. It was a way to manipulate myself, self torture, giving myself what I deserved.

It surprises me to this day that I didnt wind up in the psycho ward because really, at times I was heading there. At the time, I had two roommates, who, both were oblivious to what I was up to. It wasnt until one day, after drinking all night, did I swagger into the police station, telling them I had a murder to confess to. After blurting out in less than 5 minutes that I killed my daughter by signing her over to have surgery and so forth. They sent me to the hospital, who wrote a prescription out, and sent me on my way.

I spent months switching from drinking to that. My way of “coping” I told myself. While a few people knew I drank on occasion, I dont think they realized just how far, or how much it was, and as far as Im sure, no one knew of this. Not even my sister, because I can guarantee you, she wouldnt have listed me to take care of her kids, had she known. It still, amazes me that I didnt get put in the psycho ward, or jail or something that day. It amazes me that all they did was give me a slip of paper. A paper that meant nothing more to me than a slip with a long word on it. I threw it away in their garbage can, on my way out the door. Looking at that scar I can still remember it. Remember it all. The pain, the numbness, confusion, hot raging anger, the guilt. Its all right there, all still clear as if something that happened three years ago, happened yesterday.

Yet, what worries me, is the scars I cant see. The scars I left on other people. The scars I left from drinking, the scars I left from being careless. While I gave that up, I took drinking to a different level, I promised friends that found out that I was done with that, and I was…It wasnt until this year, that I finally have come true with that promise. Leaning against the wall, it all flooded back to me…things havent changed, circumstances are still the same. The world still goes around, and people still continue to walk in aimless circles. Life still goes on…..even when I dont want to go with it.

Just my hot rant of the day.

Seeking help, from the internets:

Being on a limited income doesnt bother me much. The only part that bothers me, is the not knowing how much its going to be. It not only makes it hard to plan ahead, it, at times, sends waves of panic down my spine. With two jobs, its a little easier. I atleast know what Ill be getting at the one, and whatever the other makes? Its a bonus. Except…..one thing. I just realized something as I sat down to fork out the monthly bills. My one job, is actually costing me money, with gas now. I can make…maybe….2 trips, two out, two back. On one tank of gas, and as I drove by the pump this evening it caught me a little off guard…a little more than the last time…which has driven me to the thought that, Im going to have to cut that job, unless I can get a ride. Because 4.10 a gal is not only ridiculous, it hurts!

Ive been fairly good about biking to work the past few days, and even though its poured down rain on me both ways for about a week now, Ive done it. The only time I have to drive is when I go to town, which, is now, down to twice weekly. Monday and Thursday - for meetings. But….Im suppose to be spending 1/2 my days out at the other end of town…my other job. Which takes about 1/2 a gal round trip. Ouch.

I know, Im lucky…no rent payment, actually, if I had a rent payment, I think I most likely would be homeless. I dont have a heating fuel bill either, which is, really…another good thing. But…I have an electric bill, and while its not ALL that high, its high enough. Plus, the gas bill, and the credit card bills. Food, smokes, and cat supplies comes at the very bottom of the list. Honestly? I dont know how I managed before with 4 kids, drinking, smoking AND rent payment on top of it all. Sometimes, it really seems the more I cut, the more I owe.

But now…I have a REAL problem.

Well…another real problem.

July is fast approaching, as Ive mentioned a time or two, and anyone who looks at the calender would know. Another problem arizes. IF I am to get the kids back…say…sometime after July 15th, if all goes well? Er…what am I going to do with them when I work? I mean, like….my work doesnt offer day care - ha ha. I dont really know if leaving a 11 & 9 yr old home alone, would be the smartest thing to do, and if it is, I certainly couldnt mention that to the state. I entertained the idea of summer school for a while…but that didnt last long. For one thing, school gets out at 3, and with summer schools, the bus doesnt run…so Id have to pick them up at 3, and I work until 4. Plus, I dont think they would want to do school in the summer…rather…mean?

I thought about the neighbors…but the thought of “Hello…Im your neighbor, I live over there…in that dumpy house….yea, nice to meet you too…hey would you mind watching these kids for the summer” didnt sound to promising, or…for that matter….smart. I had a really hard time finding babysitters for them when I had them last time, and not because they are bad kids…just that not many people like to babysit…and of course my odd hours didnt help much. So I turned to my last idea this afternoon, and while on break at work, I called…every single day care center in town, and the lowest price I got, was $600 a month,Plus, if I was late picking them up? An extra $100. Per kid. Plus if I wanted them fed? More money, more money that I dont have! The list went on and on until I thanked them, and hung up…in a state of confusion, and thought to myself, “I should start a day care center!”, but that was a very VERY brief thought.

So now Im stuck wondering. IF, and a big IF. IF I am to get the kids back, and everything goes well, or, should I say extraordinarily bizarre, and somehow I land myself with three kids, what, do I do with them when Im at work? Is 11,9, (and maybe, a 3 almost 4 year old) to young to leave at home, alone? Is this pushing thing a bit? What do people do with their kids…during the day? So I ask you, internets…what would YOU do? Or, you know, recommend, I do?

Such is…

Knowing this weekend I only had to work till noon, I made up my mind that I was going to buckle down and finish a few…unfinished projects around here.  I declined a few offers to go fishing, and bit my tongue every time, because dammit, I really wanted to go.  But I have things I need to finish, and I really, REALLY wanted to get them done…this weekend, so you know, next weekend, I can go fishing, yea…right.  So this morning, I put in my 6 hours at work, signed out, and headed home.  Mentally making a list of all the things I had to do, all the while calculating in that it was my moms birthday today, and well…beings shes here, and shes reminded me every single day now, that maybe, MAYBE I should do something…I figured Id take her to dinner…that should do it.

I stumbled home, started the coffee, and looked around.  It was noon, and my mom was still in bed…I had some things to do…but..well…Id wake her up…and that wouldnt be good.  I headed outside and started cleaning things up, throwing junk in the back of the truck, and digging up things I shouldnt have.  Around 1, my mom woke up, and I started the work on the inside of the house, I was knee deep in things, an hour into it, when the door bell rang…a frantic sort of ring that sent chills down my spin, and I thought briefly about running, and not getting it.  But, I did.  And thats how I found myself heading to work at 1 in the afternoon, angry as hell with myself for not accepting the invitation to fish.

Apparently, someone got sick, and they needed a tour guide, and even though Im OFF today, they drove ALL the way out here to get ME, because I dont have a phone.  Oh Im special…they like me!  Not.  And thats how my day got turned around, and somehow I was telling older people about the waterfall, the sometimes goats, the eagles, and bears, and instead of fishing, I was telling them about fish, thinking to myself about how I could, and wanted to be doing ANYTHING BUT that.

I hosed rain gear down, and wiped helmets off, refueled karts, and got ready to do another tour.  Because lets face it…if I get called in on my day off?  Its not going to be easy.  Im not going to have it simple.  Sigh.  So today, instead of finishing up the “On going projects” I NEED to get done, I was washing rain gear, and helmets.  Refueling karts, and refilling snack buckets.  I was driving down the worn out trail, leading 20 karts, and giving the same speech over and over and over.  Making decent tips, but not doing what I wanted to.  Instead of taking my mom to dinner, she was riding…right beside me.  In the passenger seat.  On every. single. tour.

I bit my tongue more than once today, I bit it hard too.  For good?  For bad?  Im not sure, because if I hadnt in the first place, I would have been fishing…I would have been off this island for a brief period…but such is life.  Such is the story.  Of my life.

“Oh yea…..”

Ive done a few rounds of kid watching, I guess you would call it. My longest round lasted a little over two years, and that was with Emmy. For the most part, she was (as far as Ive been told) a fairly easy child. While she slept a majority of her baby days away, and she rarely cried…and you wouldnt really know she actually did much more than that unless you spent time with her, she also had a few streaks in her, which I chocked up to “Keeping ME in check” Because there were days when I sat at home, watching her roll around on her blanket, and Id be thinking “Oh yea, I got this whole kid raising thing kicked in tha’ but…whats so hard ’bout it?” You see where Im heading? Good. Cause I didnt.

There were also, other times with her, like…oh…maybe the stage where she refused sleep? Ever known a kid who would actually fight, to not sleep. Not fight me, or anyone else, shed fight with herself to stay awake. Or there was the time when the first trait of hers that resembled me, showed through. Oh happy day. My baby girl was stubborn. I was a proud father, she took after me. Not. It was not only frustrating to try and understand why an almost 2-yr old would refuse help to get dressed, but time consuming as well. It would take over 15 minutes sometimes just to get her dressed, but to each her own.

Its been a long while since Ive thought of Emmy, all of her, the good the bad and the ugly, because for the past three years that shes been gone, in my mind she was on that golden platform that never did wrong. I wasnt fooling anyone, however, no 2-yr old is a saint.

When I had custody of the kids the first time, there were, as there were with Emmy, days that I thought. “Oh yea, I got this whole kid raising thing kicked in tha’ but…whats so hard ’bout it?” and my foolish mind wouldnt go any further than that, because at that moment, they were all abiding peacefully side by side. They were all dressed, all living, all…most likely sleeping. Because who am I kidding? Four kids? Peace? If theres one word it wasnt, it would have to be that, but at the time, my mind would foolishly fall to the wind and think “I can do this”

But then reality would show up for a brief moment slide in beside me and whisper oh so slyly. “Im not DONE yet!” And theyd be at it again. The rounds or the choir would start up again, and my peaceful moment would be over. Id once again be a slave to the four helpless children that somehow had landed in my care. No, a 12 course meal would not do for this one. She wanted pb & j, but when the heavens would depart and a golden platter appear with nothing less than a pb & j sandwich. That simply, would not work, and the fits of rage would appear, because someone help us, this is NOT what this child wanted. At the same time, as to not be out done by the older child, the younger one has to decide that, nope, eating is not on my mind tonight, I think I might just fly. And up the bookcase he would go, tossing any book in his way to the floor, shredding the to bits in record time. Being upset by the lack of attention an older one would decide that begging for another glass of drink, and not being responded to, would not do anymore, and said child would help himself to the drink in the fridge, only to pour the stickiness all over the fridge, the floor, and himself. While at the same time, all over his sisters homework papers, which in turn would get her upset, and she would have to give her 2 cents worth, and about that time, the door bell would ring, and in would walk {Fill in the blank with who ever you dont want to see at that particular moment} and there, standing in the midst of the chaos, I would think….”What was I THINKING, or rather, what was I not!”

Well…tonight, I had another one of those moments. The room is painted. The bed put together, and only after my mom applied freshly washed sheets and blankets, and the whole 9 yards, did I stand back and think “Oh yea, I got this whole kid raising thing kicked in tha’ but…whats so hard ’bout it?” But then…I had to remind myself, ever so gently, that there was one small part still missing…no not the sticky finger prints, and piles of toys. Not the ripped pictures, and piles of dirty clothes…no…I thought a few minutes, what was missing? Then…it dawned on me. Right. The kids, and just like that my light bulb idea of “Oh yea….” went off. I smiled, shut the door, and will be glad when I can once again say….”Oh yea…..”

A distant dream, someday reality?

Their bed finally took shape late last night, 1/2 the room is painted, and by tomorrow night their room should be finished, atleast for now. While the rest of the house is still in chaos, atleast one room is almost finished…but…as far upwards as things are looking for them, things are looking just as far down, for Josh, and his case.

Back, March 07 was the last time I saw him when he left to spent 2 months with his dad. Routine. That went bad. Because not a month later, I was sitting in the states office, yelling, because I wasnt going to be taking them home that night. Its been over a year now. Since that day. Its been over a year since I gave him a hug and watched as the 2 year old I knew, drug his bear by the arm, holding a strangers hand, as she led him to the plane. He didnt turn around, he didnt fight. He knew the routine better than I did. Yet, its been over a year now, and from what Ive been told, he isnt 2 anymore. Infact, he most likely will be 4 by the time I get him back, if I do.

I dont remember the exact day, or much of anything really, as hard as I try, those time were a big blur, a fuzzy mess with 4 kids and I stuck in the middle. It was the mid part of June, of 06. The first time I lost my “temp custody” of the kids. It was in a debate over who got Josh. His dad had suddenly sparked interest in him, and decided he wanted full custody of him, which resulted in me loosing what custody I had. In a frantic to get the kids back, I agreed to do split time, and a few weeks later, was sending him off for the first time, hoping for the best. He was a month shy of 2 at the time. Having spent 2 weeks with a family he didnt know, then being sent off with some stranger, who eventually handed him off to another family. He dropped his bear, and took off screaming in my direction, that time, it was me who didnt look back.

When I lost the kids this time, it was made clear that it wasnt temporary this time. That this time, I had to complete a list of things before they even considered letting me “in” About the same time, Joshs dad was put back in jail for drugs (big surprise there) and Josh was sent back up here, and put in foster care.

Apparantly sometime between then and now, his dad is out of jail, and showing “interest in his son” basically, in my opinion, hes up to what he was the first time - no good. However, the state has some “legal” issues with him being Josh’s legal dad. There is also, the small issue, that after spending a year in foster care, a couple who have had him, decided they wanted to adopt him. Then, theres me, who after a year of attempts - finally have made it to a point where Im legally able to regain custody, and eventually, adopt him, and hopefully stop all this nonsense.

If only, it were that simple.

No matter how much, or how little, his dad has done, he still has the “biological father” card. Which in the states opinion, I guess has the highest power. Secondly, there is a family, all lined up, approved, and ready to go with adoption, that has been put on hold. Then…theres me, who, obviously has no playing power. Just…a strange, weird man, wanting to adopt him as well. Right now, things arent looking to good. The closer I get to getting the older two kids, the further I get from getting Josh. The last I heard was that his case is now “confidential” which really, isnt good. Because now? Its just a waiting game, waiting to see who does what, see who gets what, and finally, where Josh goes.

Its been on my mind A LOT lately. Coming to an end with the room, has almost finalized that…now that the bed is done, and the oldest two most likely will be coming home soon, theres only one thing left to focus on, and thats Josh, who currently seems nothing more than a distant dream.

Yea…thats her

I was attempting to assemble the rusty blue frame of a bunk bed that I had stole for 10 bucks at the second hand store.  My mom was in the living room going through boxes of things I was going to throw away.

The kids future bedroom was pretty much empty, and almost ready to go.  It needed some paint, but the floor was ok, and I had finally gotten the new window in.  Now that it was empty, I could work on their bed.  The main room was a different story.  Amongst the pile of boxes that were going to be trashed, was the small pile of boxes I had held onto.  The ones that held the last memories of Emmy, and Aimee, the ones that for years, Ive been trying to throw out, but havent been able to yet.  The ones that…I just cant bring myself to get rid of, because something seems wrong with tossing the last memories away.

My moms shadow entered the room, followed by her.  She stood in the doorway a few minutes, watching me struggle with the over sized “future bed”.  After a few minutes, she broke the silence.  “Is this….your little girl?”  She asked, handing me a picture.  I paused, and looked at what she had handed me.

I was staring into the deep blue eyes of my little angel.

Her short brown hair was pulled into a lopsided pony tail, dirty jean shorts and bright pink shirt.  Gripping the side of her little chair with all her might, giving the camera the biggest, toothy grin she could muster.

That was Emmy.  Giving it everything she had.

I handed it back to her and nodded.  “Yea, thats her…thats Emmy”

For a brief second, I sat there wishing I could put myself in that picture and relive that moment.  For a minute, I wished I could get inside that picture, and squeeze her one more time…hear her giggle and say “Da-ie….you smooshed me”

Only then, did I realize

So yea, today was state day, the first time in…like…2 weeks. The first two weeks that Ive ever missed. Ive been a constant customer, uh, case, the past….how many ever months, showing up constantly every Monday. While it seemed weird going in there today after two weeks of not, it was almost a sense of relief, when everything checked out ok, or…normal. Its almost as if I hold my breath every week until Monday, then I can breath again once I find out that everything still is a go…that is, until the next day, where I hold my breath until the next week. Ive been holding my breath for the past two weeks. Unsure if I was going to screw with things or if getting permission to go, was somehow going to be forgotten, and Id have to start over. You know. Nightmares with those things.

So today when I walked in the all to familiar room, and sat waiting, I couldnt help but recall all the Mondays Ive spent in there. Waiting. Listening. Hoping. The times where it seemed that nothing would ever go right, the time they lost the kids files, and sent me up the wall. The time they wanted me to take Molly back. The time I saw them. The waiting. Oh the waiting games they play. The state is famous for waiting. All the many hours Ive spent being told over and over and over and over that I had to complete these things before I would be considered. All the time that Ive spend listening over and over, and just not getting it, when they told me that no, I couldnt see those kids, that technically, they werent mine. They were the states. The listening. If only I had ears back then. The countless weeks I spent, going in thinking “Maybe today will be the day” “Maybe today they will have set a court date” “Maybe today Ill be qualified” The hoping. The wishing.

Then today.

When I realize how far things have gone. How far up, how far down, how far stretched theyve been, how far this case has gone…Its come all the way from watching four tear streaked, sobbing, screaming kids, led out the door, with no power to take them back, no power to reach out and grab them, not being able to pull them back, and not let them go. Only having enough strength to shut the door. Its come from nothing. Its gone from 0 to almost 10. From nothing, to almost, maybe, something.

It wasnt until today, when I walked through the office door, and sat down in the most uncomfortable chair, behind the metal desk with stacks of files, and a stringy plant on it, that I realized this, and by realized, I dont mean, “get it, understand it” I simply mean, “realized”.

Sitting there, she listed off the latest details. Madison’s in town. Dylan, has been “transfered” north. As far as Josh’s case, its been switched to “confidential” meaning Im no longer “qualified” to know about him. Its simply a waiting game now, with him. Waiting to see what his dad decides, waiting to see if Im going to be put through the strainer again, or if he will just give him up. Waiting. Its always waiting. She listed off a few more unimportant details about lists, and completion of a meeting, the time of the court date, and so forth.

Then she closed the file, and just before I stood to leave, she folded her hands and leaned across the desk, with that look in her eyes, and I braced myself for the worse. “Do you realize, that your the only case, that Ive seen, that has stuck it out this long?” She stared as if waiting for a reply, I had none, so she continued.

“Your…the only case that Ive seen that has held on this long, fought this hard, and…honestly…changed…this much…” She paused. “I dont think you realize just how far youve come” I thought a second. No. I hadnt. I didnt think much about how Ive changed. Ive thought about how far things have come, and how certain circumstances have changed my life, but me? Changed. I hadnt ever thought of it that way before. “I just thought you should know” she smiled, put her glasses back on, shoved me another appointment card, and left.

And just like that, I remembered how not quite a year ago, I stumbled into the same office, drunk as a sailor, simply wishing to sign a paper, and get the kids back.

While I dont agree 100% with what they’ve done, especially in the way of the kids, I am really, seriously, thankful. I know that if the kids hadnt been taken, I would have continued on down that road. Hoping, & waiting, wishing. But not listening.