Well, I survived my first few days of school. I learned that the other two members of my department are going to be retiring sooner than I would like. I like them. And they do some things well that I frankly suck at, and I am not certain exactly how to write "must have the ability to deal with departmental political stuff so Yondalla still doesn't have to" into the job descriptions. Oh, I've been department chair for ages, and will continue to do so. I make sure things run properly and tell them what to do. When someone needs to deal with the dean or the president, one of them goes and has the pissing contest for us.
Yeah, I know, I even teach feminism.
But I survived the first few days.
Yesterday I spoke to Ann on the phone for the first time in a while. I called while Frankie was in an appointment. I had to cut off early because hubby kept calling every five minutes (and I don't know how to take a call without losing the first one, assuming it is possible). I finally said goodbye to Ann to talk to Hubby who just wanted to know if I made it in on time and why wasn't I answering my phone??
Ann sounded much better than she had before. She misses the girls, but she is no longer overwhelmed with sadness. She did not say this, but I think she is beginning to let herself feel the appropriate level of anger regarding it all. But she seems to be doing well. Being able to just take care of herself and Ray is right for her now.
Ann would never say anything negative about her girls on her blog, and I do hope she doesn't mind me saying this...but there is a big part of me that wants to sit one of those girls down and say, "You see how your little stunt worked out? You did not get what you wanted, did you? You are not with your grandmother, you are not where you thought you could make people put you, and if you don't stop being such a pill, you are going to get separated from your sisters. So shape up! The places they put kids who behave this way are not fun."
But I imagine her case worker and other people are telling her that and she is not listening to them. Why would she listen to a foster mother in another state? Perhaps she could have a nice long conversation with Frankie about treatment centers and other programs for behaviorally-challenged kids.
Ah well...Ann if you want me to remove that, I will.
But speaking of Frankie, in his appointment yesterday he again asked when he could start hormonal treatment. I was honest with him and told him he probably wouldn't start until he was 18. I told him that his mother still had parental rights and that the state would not want to even ask her about this, and that if her legal position did change there was still every reason to believe that the state would not give him permission.
I think it sort of went in one ear and out the other. Or all he heard was "Yondalla doesn't know."
I don't know that he got the part about his mom.
There's a post that I want to write about my complicated feelings about his apparent absence of complicated feelings about his parents and being in care -- but I don't think I can compose it yet.
And as a final note, Frankie today is sporting a lovely spaghetti strap summer top. It means his bra straps show, but they are pretty straps, so I think that is okay. Thus dressed, he is sitting at the computer yelling "Woo Hoo... I killed 50 people today! Oh Yeah!"
