My house is quiet - other than the crick crick of the fire beside me and the soft breathing of the five year old on my couch - I hear nothing! The TV is off, the exchange student out, the children sleeping. Its so rare its weird and I'm not sure what the best way is to enjoy it. Do I sit, let my thoughts wander, savour the moment, read the newly arrived Blood Cancer newsletter hiding underneath the books and papers on the coffee table or get up from my warm spot, dry the dishes, clear away the days rubble and put on another load of washing? All day my tasks have chosen me. Its been a wild, demanding ride and I've tried to stay calm and hang on to my sanity. Be gratful even. I've been at everyone's beck and call. The phone's rung, I've answered it; friends visited, I've sat and chattered over coffee; daughter No.1's invited me over, I've sat on her porch and watched her daycare and foster children hold baby chickens. I've driven the boy to his first day volunteering at the SPCA and shared his anger and disapointment when the head lady said he was too young; taken daughter no.3 to her horse and picked her up when she'd finished riding. I've organised the exchange student's trip out of town tomorrow, shopped for groceries; filled out forms, supervised and sent schoolwork off to the Correspondence School, answered txts, cooked meals, feed the baby, picked up daycare kids from school, taken them to the park, listened, talked, encouraged, disciplined, been my 20 yr olds brain and boosted my 10 year olds's ego, reinforced boundaries, changed nappies, cleaned, gooed at the baby - and filled the gaps with prayer. Its now 11 o'clock at night and its finally stopped. I'm sitting at the computer - lost. I have no idea what to do and no-one around to decide for me. Bed looks good but I'm waiting for the last of my daycare kids to be picked up. Her grandmother is late, very late and if she doesn't arrive soon my foster baby will be waking for her next feed before I even get to bed. I wonder what Louise Hay would say if she turned up on my doorstep. Her insight would be welcome right now. I know I've chosen this life, quite consciously most of the time. What I can't figure out is why! Surely a nice quiet bach nestled amounst bush, in a secluded bay somewhere would reflect my nature more. I found the perfect spot while on holiday a few weekends back. In a sleepy little seaside village, steeped in personal history, four little baches bunched together at the end of the road - bush backyard, sand and sea in front. It looked idylic. My mind often goes there when its not being occupied by the hundred and one demands of those around me but I doubt my body will ever join it. I hate shifting and I'd miss everyone too much. Unless I convince them all to come with me.... Sounds like a plan.

Here I am on the eve of what I hope will be a new chapter in the relationship I have with my 20 yr old foster daughter. At the moment she is at a christian healing centre enjoying (I hope) four days respite paid for by the DHB. Things have gotten increasingly bad between us as she struggles with growing up and I react, usually badly, to the ways in which her struggle manifests itself.

A few weeks ago I rang Community Mental Health and was allocated a lovely counsellor, Maude, who assures me that living at home is stunting my daughter's development and she needs to move out and grow up - hard as that will be. I agree with the concept but am not sure how it will work out in practise. My daughter reminds me of a baby eagle, safely tucked away in its parents nest, every need satisfied, unable to grasp the reason why its one day shunted over the edge and made to fly. Scary stuff!

Tomorrow when I pick my daughter up I will be that mother eagle, telling her she is not moving back home, that she will live with her sister until something more suitable is found. I feel mean. I am worried and do not know what to expect. Will she will flip her lid, right there in the car, rage and smash the windscreen or run off, climb onto some shed roof and I won't be able to get her back in the car? Will she go quiet, whites of her eyes showing, a hardness emanating from her and tell me she's coming home and that's it?

I don't even know how I will react. I'd like to think I will stay calm, be gentle and kind show compassion and stick to my guns. But who knows. I haven't been reacting that way lately so its unlikely. But with four days to think, pray, gather my strength and prepare for battle I may be okay.

I hope we are both okay, Maude is right, and it works out well for us all in the end.
     

 This week is science week at the Correspondence School.  Daniel's teacher sent him links for several experiments and today we had fun trying some of them out. This is one he was inspired to do himself with vinegar, baking soda and tempera poowder paint. He tried several ideas to get the mixture to flow down all the sides of the volcano and was successful in the end.

 Mixing a teaspoon of baking soda, a teaspoon of tartaric acid and a small canister of water to fill a plastic bag with air. This reaction made the air inside the bag very cold.

 This experiment was very simple and the results amazing. Daniel covered the bottom of a dish with whole milk, put in drops of different food colourings and then a drop of dishwashing liquid in the centre of each colour. The colours move around for ages as the dishwash searches out the milk fat.

 Flubber - a mix of borax, water and PVA glue. This stuff has a texture which appealed to Daniel.

Bad attitudes.

I wonder - do other foster carers get grumpy? Do they yell at their children and send them to bed early because they are so over listening to all the fighting and scrabbling? Do they get so tired from a long day of giving out they just want to curl into a ball and cry? How do they cope when the kids are fighting over who is going to juice the tangelos for dinner, then what glasses they will use and who gets whats left over and you are standing at the sink dog tired chopping veges for dinner thinking about a family you know in crisis -again? Or outside in a sudden downpour gathering salad vegetables wondering if that same family are eating tonight and a child pops his head around the garage door and asks you to help him make an origami paper cup - for the third time in five minutes? Or you discover that same child has been putting a weeks worth of boxes on at once and taking off the top layer each day? Hopefully not like me or we'd all be struck off the registrar and the'd be no carers left!

For the most part the house is silent now. I can hear the rain falling through broken guttering outside the front door and a story tape being played in the bedroom upstairs but other than that nothing. I have asked my childrens' forgiveness for my bad attitude toward them and God for help. I've been reminded  that its HIS job to calm the storms, heal the sick and raise the dead. Its mine to reach out, touch the hem of his cloak and believe. I don't have to do it all or be it all to these children or the family I'm worried about. I can't even heal myself of what ails me. What makes me think anything I do will heal them. Silly me! I have to wonder about myself at times.    

Blue bikkies anyone???

Making pancakes

 A is in the kitchen baking chocolate chippie biscuits. As she whizzes from fridge to pantry to mixing bowl it reminds me of why I do this. Its satisying to watch them so engaged as they create - happy and content in the moment. She has just asked if she can put food colouring in the bikkies.

Most Saturday mornings she makes pancakes for everyone. With the aid of food colouring and fancy designs they can be as elaborate looking as the toppings she serves them with - bacon, bananas, strawberries, cream, maple and golden syrups.

Even though I believe children should be given the freedom to create and explore in their own way for some reason today I've draw the line at blue bikkies.

Typically, they ignore me and do it anyway. It was blue bikkies for afternoon tea.





























 



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