C is for..... everything!

C is for Crazy, which I am. C is also for the Classes I take, and C is for Chelsea, my best friend. C is for coffee and chocolate, and cream. It's for custody. For children. For College. For Creativity.

I don't know what to write about today. There are so MANY things I could write about. Of all those C words, Custody is the one that jumps out at me the most, but my feelings on it right now are so.... vague. So up in the air, that I don't know what to do.

Two and a half weeks ago, I was looking up what the requirements were for foster homes, and what the rules were about fostering a child from another state. I was contemplating my schedule, seeing what I could change and how it would work. I was re-writing budgets, and mentally re-arranging furniture to make room for my sister in my home.

Something vague happened and she ended up out of her foster home. She was sent to a temporary foster home for the night. That's normal-ish. She woke up the next day and was brought to the DCF office, to wait while they looked for a permanent foster home for her. Again, normal.

No one wanted her.

No foster family would take in a girl with several hospitalizations in the past year. So that night, she went to another temporary house, and the next day, back to the office. And again the day after. And the day after.

Our mother couldn't take her. Her father wouldn't take her. My aunt can't handle her. My father doesn't meet the requirements. Our grandparents can't. Who else does she have left? Just me. So here I was. 20 years old and trying to get temporary custody of a 13 year old.

I was trying to figure out how to squeeze her in between my classes, or how to fix my work schedule so I had time to help her. Or at least time to give her a good morning and good night hug. It just wasn't working. I couldn't figure it out. Every time I found a solution to a problem, another one cropped up.

Do I make enough money to feed her? Pay her electric bill? Do I have the space for her? Does a futon couch count as a bed for her? Is the living room a suitable sleeping arrangement? Can our closet hold her clothes? How will I get her to school? Or will DCF insist on her having her home schooled like she is now? Will she be okay home alone all day? Does she need a private tutor?

and the kicker: I'm 20 years old. Will I be able to make her look at me as a guardian, or just a sister? Do I know enough to do a decent job at steering her in the right direction, for now?

Before I managed to find a suitable answer to my questions, they found a foster home. I was relieved, in a way that I now feel guilty for. I don't think I'm ready to be a parent. I already don't know how I did it when I was at home. Certainly, 20 years old isn't old enough to parent a teenager. Her foster family don't speak much English, and its lonely with no one to talk to in the house. But she's somewhere at least. I can't imagine how much emotional pain she must have been in, and is still in, knowing that, at 13, no one wanted her. I know how much it hurt me when my mom kicked me out at 16. But I still had one other parent to take care of me. She had no one. And I was older. She's in that awful stage that is the beginning of being a teenager. God, I hated being 13.

My mother gets out of her thing (more on that lateR) in a few weeks, and will get my sister out of foster care. The other is still with the family who will adopt her. That's the plan right now.

Can you Taste it?

It's so close I can taste it. College. That thing I've been working towards, wanting so badly, since forever.....

I've been accepted. I've been awarded a financial aid package. I've gotten all the forms I need. It's so close. A four year school. A degree that I can use and be proud of.

But semester starts Monday. It's Wednesday, and I still have piles of paperwork to do. I dont have my aid award letter, though it's in the mail. I don't have my vaccination history, which I need, or my advisors name, or my log in. I'm not even registered for classes. I don't know how I'm going to commute from school in the mornings, to work in the evenings, because Jeffrey will still be at work, and I don't have a license or a car.

I'm scared.

I'm thrilled.

But I'm scared. I dont know if I can make this magic work. I'm not sure I know how. So this is hard, and scary, and I don't know what to do. But it's so close, and I've worked so hard, and I'm not giving up yet.

And the Drama Continues!

Immediately after my last blog post, I called my sisters. The blog was a dump, so that I could talk to the girl with a clear head. So that I could tell them I love them, without bursting into tears.

For the record, it didn't work. I cried. Lots.

Everything is happening way too fast. I've talked to who-knows-how-many-people in the past few days. In a weird, backass way, it makes me proud of myself. I usually hate talking on the phone. I get really bad phone-anxiety. It makes me sick. But I've been able, for the last few days, to talk to all sorts of people without freaking out.... at least, not freaking out at the thought of a phone call. There's been a lot of freaking out about other things.


It helps, for me to put the story out here. Even if there's no advice, even if I don't get a single comment, it helps for me to just put this out here. It's like the blog takes this burden from me. Lifts it off my shoulders. It's like I make the problem belong to the computer, instead of to me.

But I've lost track of everything. I called my dad, expecting that my mother would have asked him to bail her out. I wanted more details. My dad didn't answer the phone.

I called my sisters, expecting them to be at a friends house. That's what my aunt had said. Turns out, later in the evening, not long before I called, Child and Family services went and brought them to foster care. They were in the same house. I was satisfied, with that part. I hate that they have to be in this position to start with, but I'm glad that they are at least together. That was why they didn't want me to call DCF to begin with. They didn't want to be separated. I actually called DCF to thank them about this.

I called them, and we all cried. Amanda didn't want to talk because she hates to talk and cry at the same time. Lauren didn't want to talk either, but she was the one who answered the phone, so she got stuck with me. I needed to tell her I love her, and that if she needs me, she can always call me. They didn't know any more than I did, about what was going on. I probably told her 6 times that I love her, and to tell Manda that I love her too. Eventually, Lauren had to get off the phone.

Not long after, my dad called. This was still the Arrest Day (from here on out, that's AD) He asked what I knew. I told him that I knew almost nothing. He didn't know either. He had been working off cape, and I was right, my mom asked him to bail her out. One of the first things my dad said to me was "She asked me to bail her out, and I did, but I think I probably shouldn't have. She caught me off guard, and I just reacted."

No, Daddy, you shouldn't have bailed her out, but I don't blame you. I did the same thing over the summer. Granted, it was probably a difference offense, but I didn't know what it was, when I bailed her out. I just did what I did without thinking.

He also told me that when my mother was arrested, she was showing no visible signs of drunkenness, but because my sisters insisted she was drunk, they gave her a breathalyzer. Apparently, they were very concerned by the number that came out. They let my dad bail her out, but said she couldn't leave until the next morning, because she was that drunk. I was unsurprised. My mother doesn't usually get "normal" drunken signs. She doesn't slur her words, she can walk in a straight line, she doesn't seem confused. Her drunken signs are anger, and being weak. She can walk in a straight line, up until the point where she's too weak to stand on her own. This is right before she passes out, at which point, that is her new drunken sign.

Anyways, my father told me that he was going to see what he could do about the girls living with him again. He even said he'd make peace with Tony, if that's what it took. My dad hates Tony almost as much as I do. I was stunned when he said that, but I admire my father so much, for being willing to do that for kids that aren't even his. I admire my father for loving people, and specifically, loving my girls, that much. My dad is my hero. He always has been,  but this, this just re-enforced it.

AD+1 day.
My sister is online, on Facebook. I message her. Hey, how are you, what's up, you feeling any better, I love you. The normal things. The things she'd expect with this situation. From her, I hear that they were told that they're going home on Monday. I was hoping someone lied to her. Hoping that it was a (slightly misguided) attempt at comforting her.

DCF wont release information on my sisters to me. They never have. So today, instead, I called them to make a request. As a sort of test, I asked them to keep my sisters together in the same house. They finally told me that the girls were going home, on Monday. Fuck.

AD+2, Monday, Today.
At a little before 5 O'clock I texted my sisters. I said "Hey, what's going on?" Lauren never responded to my message. Manda sent back a reply "nothn cnt tk bye" Manda's big on shortening words, but that was sparse, even for her. She usually spells out "cant" and "talk" anyways, and that isn't usually how she abbreviates nothing.

I haven't heard anything at all from anyone since. I've made a few phone calls, but nothing. Panicking? You bet!

Three

3 warrants.

Three outstanding warrants for my mothers arrest.

And she was arrested

Drunk

Custody seized

not one freaking phone call. Not from my mother, not from my father, not from either sister, not from the cops, not from DCF

From my aunt. From my aunt, who my sister called in tears. From my aunt, apologizing for not being able to take my sisters.

I don’t blame my aunt. I only blame my mother. But I can’t believe that after all this no one called me.

I can’t fix it. I know that’s why no one called me.

I’m so freaking disappointed in my mother.

I hurt for my sisters.

And I hurt for my aunt.

And my pride is a little sore

But mostly, I hurt for my sisters, and I’m angry with my mother.

And curious, as to what those three warrants were for.

Three
Freaking
Warrants

And some awful, guilty part of me hopes my mother stays where she is for a long time. Because my sisters deserve better than that, and if she isn't in jail, she's not going to give them up. How twisted is that? That I hope my mother stays in jail. I must be an awful person, and yet..... I don't really see it. I wish I could help my mother. That's what I feel guilty for. Hoping to pass the burden on to someone else. But at this point, she's beyond any help I can give, and I don't feel guilty, not really, for hoping she stays away.

Phone Call

Last night I asked my mom if I could have a day off. I have been working, for work, for her, for my dad, and to move my own things, without a single day off for a month and a half now. I just needed one day where I didn't have to do anything for strenuous than taking out the trash adn wahsing the dishes. She was cool with it, my dad was cool with it, and I wasn't working today.

Today at 5:16, I got a phone call from my mother. She asked me to bring her anxiety medication to the police department. Last night, she let someone borrow her car overnight. They were supposed to return it at 1pm. Several times throughout the afternoon I had gone downstairs, each of which she mentioned that she didnt have her car back. She called them at least twice that I witnessed. Once at around 3:30, and once at about 4:45. The second conversation consisted of her yelling "BRING MY FUCKING CAR HOME!" For those of you  who don't know my mom, it probably wont phase you. For those of you who do, you're probably gaping at the screen. My mother does. not. swear..... EVER. 

Fast forward to the phone call and I figure, she went to the police station to file a report that her car was stolen, and that her anxiety attack was related to the stress of not having her car. For some reason, I couldn't find my shoes, so I went downstairs to borrow my sister's, grabbed my moms medication, and we went to the police station.

The lobby is empty. I look around and don't know where to go, so I stand there for a few moments awkwardly. Eventually an officer comes and asks me what's going on. "Um, I'm looking for my mom. She asked me to bring her anxiety pills here." And then, I used my moms full name. My mothers name is Margaret, but she goes by Peggy. I don't know why I used her full name instead of saying Peggy or Peg, but I startled myself by saying it.

Of course, the officer startled me more. "Oh yes. Did you bring any money?"
"Money?"
"She didn't ask you to bring money?"
"No. What for?"
"She didn't tell you?"
Of course by this point, I'm totally confused. I get this bad feeling in my gut, and don't say a thing.
"She's been arrested." he says. "Why don't I go ask her what she wants from you."
He goes. He comes back and hands me her debit card. "She says she has $260 in her bank account. She can be bailed out for that. She says go get $260. Use her savings account, not her checking. Do you know her PIN number?"
Apparently, when I'm under stress, I focus more on grammar than what people actually mean by their comments. I thought for a moment about the phrase "PIN number" before realizing what he asked.
"Oh, uh, yeah."

So we went to the nearest ATM, got stuck and traffic, and showed back up 45 minutes later. I gave the officer the money and asked what my mother had been arrested for. He told me he wasn't allowed to tell me but that it was minor, and I could come back in about half an hour to get her. I told him to have her call me when she needed a ride. We live less than half a mile from the police station, so I figured the 1minute wait for us to drive down wouldn't be too bad, and it would save me some waiting if things took longer.

Its a good thing I didn't just head down there after half an hour. We didn't get called back for another hour and a half. Meanwhile, my little sister asked to go to a friends house. I told her she could go, but I wasn't sure she was allowed to sleep over. I told her I'd have Mumma call when she got home. I didn't tell my sister where my mom was. I had serious issues with lying to her, but I didn't want to put her in panic mode, if it turns out that she had been arrested for something stupid. I figured, if it was a major problem, I could talk to my sister later.

I finally get a phone call from my mom. And my dad. And my sister, all three calls within 1 minute of each other. My sister called to ask if my mom was home. While I was on the phone with her my dad beeped in. So I got off the call with my sister and talked to my dad. Then my mom beeped in.

We pick her up. I'm in panic mode, and super jealous of the fact that she has pills to help with her anxiety. I thought I was going to puke. Finally I ask her what happened.

Her car insurance was canceled because they couldn't find record of a fine she paid 9 years ago. They thought it was somehow outstanding, and canceled her insurance. At some point, she got her car back, and went to the store to buy milk. Another car, a giant SUV, backed into her, the trailer hitch got caught under her car, and totaled it. Luckily, there was an officer in the parking lot who saw the accident. To collect from the SUV drivers insurance, there needs to be a police report. That was easy enough to file with him right there. Then, as they were filing, he realized my mothers insurance was invalid.

And then they took her to the station, and she called me.

So much for a relaxing day.

I hate "Allyson"

There’s a reason I started this blog, and tonight gives me a perfect opportunity to test out it’s effectiveness. It’s purpose? So that I didn’t have to tell each of my friends about a major event. I don’t like repeating myself. More than that though, I hate burdening them with whatever bad thing happens to me.

WARNING: The following post ends with an abundance of swearing. Just to prepare you.

This morning I called my mom. She didn’t answer the phone. I called her again around one, because I was bored, and my mom is usually up for a chat. She didn’t answer. She finally called me back at about 2:30pm, to tell me the reason she hadn’t been answering. She had been at the hospital with my sister since about 10:00 the night before and had just then left it. That in itself would have been enough stress for one day, but that’s not even it. I wont even get into that mess tonight. So my Mom talked to me an apologized, I talked to my sister for a few seconds, then my mom told me she had to get off the phone to make other phone calls. Them being in the hospital for a billion hours had made a nice long list of people.

Skip forward to 7:45pm. My mom calls me up, sounding a little distraught. I ask her what’s wrong. (M=mom, E=me/Erin)

M: A-a-a-a.....
E: A what?
M: (calm controlled breathing, like when you’re trying not to cry or scream)
E: Would you rather talk about something else?
M: Could you?

So I babble on for about 3 minutes about the latest Reader Digest and about cooking and how my nails needed painting. Safe subjects. And then I run out. I flounder for a while.

E:Uhh.... umm..... My dishes need doing and..... umm.... uh.. I’m.....
M: Allyson [[see bottom of post]] did it again.
E: Did what again?

My mind was reeling with possibilities. This girl had done so many things to harm my family. She is 16 years old. She and I had been friends since we were very small children. Since I was 7 and she was five. She lied and she stole every time she was around. She broke my laptop, and refused to pay me. She made mess, intentionally, and refused to clean them. She insulted various ones of us at different times. She had one kicked me in the chest, and had hit me a few other times. She had called the cops on my mother before many times. She owes me over $2,000 which I’m sure I’ll never see. I gave up on her about a year and a half ago. Stopped speaking to her. In return she decided that my sister was her best friend. A sixteen year old, whose best friend was 11 (and is now 12) That in itself is a bit weird.

M: You know what I’m talking about.
E: No I don’t. What has she done.
M: she called the cops on me.

Flashback September. My mothers car (tiny little thing that it was) had lifted off the ground in a big gust of wind right into a tree. The car had been a standard. My mothers first day with ehr new car, an automatic, was my sisters birthday. After the party my mother drove Allyson home. My mother, intending to shift gears, went to put her foot on the clutch. Of course, in an automatic there si no clutch. Hello brakes! And Allyson called the cops because my mother was apparently driving drunk, even though the only thing she’d eaten for drank since that morning was a movie theatre soda and a soda at lunch, both of which Allyson witnessed. I was pissed. I told my mother (for probably the 20th time) not to let my sisters associate with her. My mother ignored my advice as usual.

E: What happened?
M: Manda and I got into a fight at dinner about using the phone. She can’t be on the phone when we’re eating. I took the phone away, and was going to give it back after dinner. Allyson showed up right in the middle. I wouldn’t let manda get up from the dinner table. Allyson was just getting some stuff she had left here over hte weekend. Manda got mad at me. And then Allyson called the cops because I was slow and angry. I haven’t slept since I woke up yesterday morning. Of course I’m slow. And I’m cranky. I’m tired and cranky. Manda’s talking with the cop right now. She’s still mad at me, Erin. She said she hates me.
E: She’s just angry.
M: But she said she hates me.
E: She doesn’t. She’ll be over it in 20 minutes.
M: But the police man!
E: Manda isn’t going to lie because she’s mad at you.
M: But she said she— Here he comes. I’ll call you back.

And she hung up on me to talk to the officer. In the end, everything is fine.

But I’m still bullshit pissed. She can insult me. That’s fine. She can steal from me. That’s not fine, but it’s tolerable. She can even beat me up, and I wont do a thing. But I swear if she does another thing to me, I will find some sort of retaliation. I don’t know what I can do, legally, But I’m SUPER FUCKING PISSED OFF! At least I know (or hope) my mother has decided to listen to my advice and NOT allow her in the house again.

And you know what? I already know I can’t do shit legally. You know why? Because guess who she learned all this bad behavior from? Daddy dearest, who would probably call the cops on me for harassing a minor, or some other ridiculous charge.


Hate isn't a word I take lightly. But see the title of this post? There are only two people in this world who I can honestly say that about. She is one of them. This has been a long time coming.
________
Allyson is a fake name. I will not post her real name. I may hate her, and I doubt that I'm the only one, but it's still not right to say that many mean things about a person.