Miss E may move in two days!

She told me this morning that she is moving on Thursday.

I asked if she knew if she still needed me to drive her to school. She said she didn't know. I said I would call her social worker, she said that her social worker was out of town.

I've emailed the social worker, the social worker's supervisor and the family developer. That was a couple of hours ago and I have heard nothing back. Soon I will be emailing the deputy director. Naw, I'll just start calling people.

I am annoyed. I asked her social worker a week ago if she was really going to move to this new home and if so would I still drive her. The answer was, "She is moving." I figured she needed to talk to the family about whether they could drive her and would get back to me. She didn't.

There is a part of me that thinks that I probably should have more sympathy for Miss E -- moving again. This is her third home for this school year. At the moment though I just don't have a lot of sympathy for Miss E. She is moving because she wants to. She is the way she is because of the abuse she suffered, but right now she is making her choices. It occured to me that maybe I was being a little too self-centered here. A girl who has suffered repeated trauma is moving again. That is a bad thing. Doesn't it deserve a moment of respectful sadness?

Yeah. I'm sure it does.

But my boundaries are firmly in place and I am worried about MY issues, do you hear?

Come Friday, do I have to get up before 6:00 or do I get to sleep until 7:00?

If everyone is assuming I am going to keep driving her, could someone please give me their freaking address? And if I am not going to drive her, could someone please have the courtesy of informing me? You know, I would even be happy with a short email that said, "Oops...sorry we forgot to check with the parents about this. We will call you back after we have had a chance to talk to them.

I'm torn about what I want them to say. On one hand they pay me almost as much to drive her to school as they do for 24 hours of respite care. (Yeah, I drive for the money -- what's it to you?) I also would sincerely miss seeing her every day. (Imagine that -- I care about her even though I get paid for this service!) On the other hand, this is an hour's worth of sleep we are talking about. That comes to five hours a week! Five precious hours in which I could be asleep.

Another day I may write about how terrible it is that this girl has been this deeply damaged. Another day I may write about what sort of care I think we might need to care for kids with this much damage. Another day sympathetic, analytical Yondalla may be back.

Today however I am tired and cranky.

Talking to her about the move