A story about "Another Place at the Table"

Another Place at the Table

by Kathy Harrison

Last week, as my partner and I were leaving our second class of the series required for potential foster parents, we spoke with the foster parent who is co-leading our training. He mentioned that his wife had written a book (now two, actually) about their experience as foster parents, called “Another Place at the Table”. Voila! I pulled my copy of the book out of my bag, much to his surprise. I was already pretty excited that the author of this book was a foster parent for the same DSS office that we will be with, and now I was very happy to be looking prepared, though it was just sheer coincidence that had ordered the book a couple of weeks before.
This one hardly needs another spectacular review, I want to extoll its quality anyway. Having just finished one book on foster care, I picked this one up to start yesterday and couldn’t put it down. The stories of the children who grace these pages and the very real and unsentimental voice of the author had me riveted and tearful and joyful- I finished the whole thing in one sitting. The stories are frequently heartbreaking and the author’s experience clearly wrenching, but while it did much to scare me about becoming a foster parent, the underlying sense of hope and purpose came back to me every time, as it does for Kathy Harrison. I just hope that I can approach the task with similar good sense and resiliency, and am quite grateful to have Bruce Harrison at our classes to share his experience with us. So, of course, for me as a prospective foster parent, this book is amazing and I very much intend to read Kathy’s new book. This book is for everybody, though- it’s an amazing read. So read it- it’s worth consuming!

See more about Another Place at the Table

You know you are graduating from UMass Amherst when:

1) No preparation whatsoever is required- you may get your cap and gown on your way into graduation (in case you have been drunk for the last two weeks and forgot to get them.)

2) When the marshalls say "lines of three" you all walk into the processional in a giant mob.

3) The processional takes so long to get all 4,000 graduates into their seats that we all begin sitting down half-way through.

4) Graduates then proceed to stand on their chairs to look for people, talk to their relatives on their cell phones, take their gowns off because it is extremely hot, and leave their seats to go talk to people on the sidelines.

5) When the speaking finally commences, we then break out the beachballs that have been stashed under gowns, inflate them, and toss them around for fun- this continues throughout the entire two-hour ceremony- probably 2 or 3 dozen beachballs total.

6) Whenever a "marshall" manages to snatch one of the beachballs away (their primary job), the grads boo the marshall loud enough to drown out the speaker on stage.

7) Your particular section at one point sets off one beachball, then two (a typical number seen in all the sections), then three (at which point people begin to cheer), then four (and things start to get rowdy), and on until you've got 6 beachballs all going at once among the same small group, to the loud pleasure of the rest.

8) When the beachballs run out towards the end, the programs are sacrificed to mutitudes of paper airplanes.

9) The girl behind you continually screams like a rabid sports fan at inappropriate moments- for example, "Yeah- go trustees!" and "Sing it, UMass!"

10) When the Chancellor asks all alumni present to now stand, the graduates collectively fail to realize that they are now alumni for several seconds, then realize this collectively, and jump up screaming all at once. Don't ask how we got into college in the first place.

11) And last, but not least, the crowning moment that truly lets you know that you are graduating from the best university on the planet... somebody has snuck in, inflated, and begun to toss overhead- not just a beachball- but an inflatable naked lady.

I love UMass.

The Homosexual Agenda in action!

Last week we attended the first session of our 8-week foster parenting class that will, in conjunction with our (successful) homestudy, make us licensed foster parents in Massachusetts. We were bemused by the fact that we were two of only four potential foster parents in the class and especially by the fact that we were both same-sex couples. I was relieved at not having to deal with heterosexist weirdness, but also wary because the facilitators said there might be one more couple joining us at the next session. I kept remembering the "Boobie School Drop-out" post over at Name That Mama, and dreading some homophobic straight couple potentially ruining our experience. I hate conflict. So we went to the second session tonight, and there were not one, but two new couples joining the class. Lo and behold, we are becoming foster parents with yet another same-sex couple! That makes 3 out of 4 couples. I had to try really hard not to laugh when I walked in. Even our facilitator commented on us- apparently many foster parents are same-sex couples, but she'd never had a class with quite that ratio before. And the poor, lone straight couple- little did they know what they were getting themselves into. Not just any straight couple, either- the Dad is a high school sports coach, and the Mom has had three bio kids already and described herself as emotional. To top it off, we had a role play session and the poor woman wound up married to another woman- the lesbian recruitment plan is just top knotch these days, I tell you! I can only imagine what their conversation was like on the way home! I kinda feel sorry for them- I'm sure this was not what they were expecting. Still, this quells my fears and I'm really glad to start this process with some friendly faces. I think I'm going to like this class. And I hope we get to stay in touch with the families we are taking the class with- it would be great to go through this process together and commisserate as newbies. Yay for foster parents, and especially queer foster parents, everywhere!

Nobody puts Baby in a crappy dress!

We went to pick up J's dress from David's Bridal this evening- a "pickup style" bridesmaid's dress that we paid $220 for- what a big disappointment! Not only didn't it look even remotely like the picture in the catalogue (on the left), it was worse than the floor model that she tried on in the first place (which looked great on her despite the wear and tear of lots of trying-on). Flimsy material, haphazard work on the "pickups", saggy all over and especially in the front (not related to the size), a pull in the fabric right in the middle of the bodice- overall just a shoddy job. I was so mad! Still am. We had them re-order the dress and send this one back as a "failure" so that the new one will get here faster. And it had better look like riches when it gets here! Nobody puts my baby in a crappy wedding dress! Not a pleasant week in the land of tulle and glitter.

Runaway officiant

The brides are here and ready to go, but where is their officiant? Gone! The minister we had set up our wedding plans with has bailed on us because a couple in her own congregation asked her to officiate their wedding on the same day, and I guess the rules say she has to do theirs even though we asked her first. Thank goodness we still have 3 1/2 months until the wedding! Still, the choices are fairly limited. Our congregation doesn't have a minister right now because the last one resigned and he's not allowed to officiate ceremonies at our church anymore (more annoying church rules). J wanted the chaplain at her alma mater to officiate, but since she's so awesome she's very popular and had prior obligations already set up for that weekend when we asked. She made suggestions of who else might do it, and so we called this one and met with her and decided she would be a great officiant, and then she bailed. Now, while my oldest sister B was here visiting and graduating with her PhD a couple of weeks ago, I asked her to be the sole reader and co-officiant of the ceremony, but I don't think going it alone is what she had in mind when she accepted. Job for today: find a replacement officiant! Quick!

Check, check, check out please!

-Lots of mirrors facing up... check.
-Mirrors on the doors facing out...check.
-Wind chimes...check.
-Shiny baubles...check.
-Giant wall mirror and Buddha thing with a candle in our "Helpful People" corner...check.

As it turns out, the landlady does not think she can ask them to move unless they don't pay the rent, and mediation wasn't productive in the least, so we're feng shuiing up a storm in here with all the ideas I could find about quelling lousy neighbors. It was just starting to feel like home in here (we've only been in this apartment since January) and we've put a lot of work into the place, so we really don't want to leave. But we can't live with Madame Psycho and Mr. Meek Husband anymore. I do feel really bad for the kid, though- she's only 8 and has to deal with them all the time. We put up a picture of Damara, a goddess of children and family harmony, and play soft music in our kid-room that sits under their daughter's bedroom. I wish there were a good solution for everyone!

Mr. "ARRGH" will be our guest for a while...

We decided to suck it up and call the landlord and lady, tell them the latest proof that the upstairs people really need to be sent inpatient, and that we need a mediation. So mediation is tomorrow night with the landlady at a local restaurant- she wanted to do it at a park or something in case it got ugly, but it's going to rain so we're bringing popcorn and Reese's for the indoor scene that just might happen. Hopefully it won't happen that way, we will come to some sort of agreement about keeping the music and other noise down and not touching our property without permission and not smoking in the hall (too bad we can't stick in a clause about her taking her meds), and then everybody (meaning they) have to stick to it for 30 days. Then, if anyone can't stick to it, we have to try to decide who will move out. Then, if we can't decide, the landlords decide who moves. And they like us and we're good tenants and the upstairs folks paid the rent late last month (and I feel bad they're having a hard time with the rent, but still) so I think we'd get to stay. All of this will probably entail lots of loudness and annoyingness and psycho behaviors and maybe some threats spelled out in magazine clippings, but I really hope I'm wrong. Yay for wrong! And wish us luck at mediation.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGH!

I am so hopping mad! My effing neighbor is trying to play some stupid, passive-aggressive, junior-high-school game with us and I am pissed. After several months of listening to her weekly screaming fights with her husband, our neighbor hit an especially alarming note and ruined one too many of my nights, so we called the landlords and the cops. After ruining one too many of my days with her obscenely loud, booming music, I asked her to turn it down a couple of days ago. Since those two incidents she has:

1) Stuck a melodramatic note on our door "to the ## ___ St. residents" (as if she doesn't know our names), to not leave the front door open lest we break her daughter's heart by letting their cat out (well, they have an apartment door that should do the job just fine, and the door would be shut if she weren't stinking up the hallway with her cigarrettes, but fine- we leave it shut now- with a super-duper air freshener.)
2) Started playing the music extra loud
3) After I asked her to turn it down, went about her apartment and up&downstairs stomping as loudly as possible and singing at the top of her lungs (I suppose the reasoning was supposed to be, "if I can't play my music, I'll just have to sing my heart out, so I'll still be obnoxious but she can't exactly ask me to turn it down.")
4) Turned her car on and blared the music at top volume out of it (including subwoofer, parked in front of our door & windows), with her dog tied to the car and barking his head off (poor dog never barks, but the music was just that loud), and stood on her porch screaming at the dog to "shut the f**k up! I can't believe you're being so loud!." Love the pointed tone, don't you?
5) We just discovered she moved all of our stuff stored in the basement over to one side and smooshed her things up next to it, as if to draw a line down the middle (you know, like young children and junior high schoolers might do when they don't like sharing a bedroom). This last one has me so steamed! Big, bad boundary issue here- if you want me to move my stuff, then ask me to move my stuff- but do not touch my property without permission!

All done in such a way that calling up the landlords would make me feel like a child myself- it either can't be proven or seems like we ought to work it out amongst ourselves. But, I fear that if we continue to try to do that, we'll just incite more crap. I've already asked the landlords to fix a few things lately (light not working, broken windows, woodpecker nesting in house) and really don't want to make a nuisance of myself, especially in something that seems like running to mommy&daddy. I don't know what to do here. We have both tried to be as nice as possible and as reasonable as possible (we've both lived in several apartment buildings before this and never had to ask someone to turn music down or call the police about a fight- we both feel this particular neighbor is pretty extreme, and we know their previous neighbors also called the police about a fight). I guess I'm trying to say we've been really flexible about this, but I really feel attacked and there does not seem to be a way to reason with this woman. She's just nuts. Whatever it is, we need a solution now, because this has to stop. Any ideas?

Hey, Derangels!

Last night I dreamed that you were pregnant. We were having an argument because you didn't want me to tell Mom, but we were about to go out somewhere with her, and I was saying "S--, you're showing" (you were like 6 or 7 months along or smth) "you can't not tell her!" Is this not a perfect anecdote for our family relationships? Tee hee. Btw, is there something you're not telling me? Hmn? Love, your little sister

Flying colors

Good marks all around from the social worker who did our walk-through today- we have enough time, enough money, enough room, and our CORI checks confirm that we're not criminals. We are officially eligible! And now we have the crux of the homestudy coming up- three long visits from another social worker whose job it is to "get to know" us and write up a big report afterward. In the meantime, we take a three hour class once a week for eight weeks (not ten like I thought before) called the Massachusetts Alliance for Partnership in Parenting class. The first session is next week. It ends in July, we will probably have had our last visit from the social worker in charge of the homestudy by then, after which s/he will write it up, pass it by the manager we saw today, who will then pass it by the area director, and we're looking at getting licensed sometime in September. The one fly in my ointment is still our upstairs neighbors- actually really just one of them. The wife is crazy. She continues to have screaming fights with her husband on a regular basis- we had to call the police the last time because the screams were so unbelievably loud. She continues to play her music at top volume on a daily basis- completely unacceptable to me if I have a kid in the house- just a few minutes ago I asked her to turn it down, garnering a pissy response about how we've asked her to turn it down "like three different times" (actually only two, and maybe it's because you can't seem to understand that other people live in this house!), so the volume stayed down for about five minutes but she's apparently quite pissed at me now, because it's back up with it's booming bass already and she's stomping around like she has cinderblocks for shoes. Please, please God- move them somewhere else! She's really raining on my parade here, so I think I'm going to take off and go buy baby stuff or something. All the while maintaining my calm, cool, and collected state of being. Just call me wannabe-foster-mom-extraordinare! BTW, that's a picture of the very cute frog-prince toy we bought at Ikea a few weeks ago.

A little big thing

Those of you who saw this blog near its beginning might remember when the subtitle used to say "foster parenting" instead of just "parenting" on the horizon. That was because way back when, we called in our official interest in becoming foster parents to the Department of Social Services. So, a while went by, and we immersed ourselves in wedding plans, while also looking at options for possible pregnancy after the wedding, including meeting a PKD and poring over lists of ID-release donors from sperm banks- in short, life was just happening. And then, a few days ago we got a call from a DSS worker, asking to set up a visit to start our homestudy. So, we start on Monday afternoon. The worker will come back several times and continue compiling our homestudy, while we take classes for three hours every Thursday evening for 10 weeks, then the worker will write up her assessment and reccommendation for approval, the head of DSS will read it and sign it, and we'll get a license in the mail. If all goes well with our study. I've scrutinized the list of home requirements over and over and over, trying to reassure myself that our family and our home meet them, and so far we've got everything, so I reeeeally hope there's nothing missing. Actually, I know the one thing that is missing- we need to have a bed for the kid(s), and we've been trying to find an affordable crib that will convert to a toddler bed (to accomodate an age range of 0-3 years)- so far, no luck. It's ok for now, as we have several weeks after the home study begins to fix anything we're missing. But we need a convertible crib! And more curtains (currently only one room has them). And rugs (although we have a fabulously cute kid-rug from Ikea in the baby room- that's a picture of it up there- we're trying for a castles&dragons&princes&princesses&stars motif). Must sweep and mop and dust and vacuum and clean the bathroom and throw out all the junk mail on the dining table and brush the cats.