Good-bye to all that

This post isn't about Clara and Margaret directly, but it does affect them.
I just wrote an explanation of why our long-time babysitter has stopped working for us, but in truth, I really don't know why. It's an awful thing to have someone you know well and love not be honest with you. I mean, this woke me up through the night. For the past six months, Roxy hasn't been babysitting for us. No, she told me, she had been cleaning people's houses, earning more money than I could pay her. I understood; times are tough and I can't pay her $20 an hour to babysit my girls. Yesterday, another mom at the girls' school thanked me for "giving" her Roxy. I was puzzled. Is she cleaning your house? No, she's babysitting, the woman replied.
I almost threw up. Clara and Margaret fully expect Roxy to return and take care of them one day soon. I am going to visit Roxy at her house and find out what's going on. After four and a half years, of paying her when I really shouldn't have done so, of finding work for her sons and her father when he visit, I think I deserve some closure.

Coming to the end of school

This afternoon, the girls and I were lying on our bed. The ceiling fan was turning slowly, creating a slight wind that necessitated my getting both girls a blanket. And then I had to tell them witch stories. They love to be scared and entertained. Ghosts and witches abound in our house. They move dirty clothes, take dishes out of the sink and create all kinds of havoc. So says Clara. It was so pleasant lying on the bed with them both snuggling into my armpits, delighted to be scared just a little.
School ends for them on Wednesday with an ice cream sundae party. Margaret has made great progress on her social skills, thanks to a pre-school special education teacher sent by the school district. Come August, when school starts up, Margaret will be getting occupational therapy as well. It's so great that they come to the school. Clara is worried about her class breaking up and about not having the same beloved teacher next year. She can't get her head around the concept. She keeps telling me she wants to stay with Miss Bette.
Gene makes the girls read aloud to him before they can watch a video or swing in our new outdoor swing. Margaret is very motivated to do this because she loves the swing better than anything. Clara is balking about reading. She has been for the past few days. She wants me to swing her if Gene isn't home. No dice. Today, she told me that she had really truly done her reading. When I asked, who did you read to? she didn't miss a beat. "An octopus, Mama, really." When I said nothing, she confessed, "All right, it was really a fish." I'm not that easy to fool, but I loved her attempts to do so.
We went to our church picnic on Sunday out at a member's farm. There were bunnies to see and pet, so Margaret was in heaven. And horses to see running around. Plus, a swing set and even a trampoline. The old kind, with no net and no padding on the springs. The kind that sends kids into wheelchairs. I have found a safe trampoline, but it costs $600, so it won't be coming to live at our house anytime soon, believe me. Of course, now Clara and Tita want it.
The picnic was great, with a table of homemade foods, older kids to entertain the younger ones and nice people to talk to. In the late afternoon, I asked Clara to stay put and then I went to lead Margaret away from the trampoline and to the potty. When we returned, Clara wasn't to be seen. I didn't think anything bad had happened to her, but I was a bit panicked. After looking a little for Clara, I stopped Margaret from charming an unsuspecting daddy into putting her on the trampoline and deposited her with some friends so I could widen my search.
When I saw my Clara standing by our car, I felt tears in my eyes. She was smiling and almost crying, too. I scooped her up and kissed her and she said, in a slight scold, "Where were you, Mommy? I don't like to lose you, you remember that."

Growing up

Last night, our friends Tanna and Stuart were over for Sunday supper, a usual event for the six of us. Clara was acting up and acting out and ended up in the uncooperative chair in the corner. Margaret soon followed her. As Margaret sat down, Clara yelled out, "Marg, call DFACS!" The Department of Family and Children's Services takes children from families when things aren't going well. The four adults tried not to laugh so that Clara could hear. I've told them about DFACS, mainly to explain why they have to accompany me out of their carseats when I stop someplace. Some days, I wish I could speed-dial DFACS and get them to take the girls away for just an hour or two. Or better, take me.

Margaret's evacuation problems seem to be resolved. She's worked hard. And for her reward, she received a small shopping cart, just her size. Which she now takes to Publix to shop with me, and to Earthfare, our neighborhood store. She now asks to "take a little walk" with the shopping cart. I have to say, it's very cute. Especially when she puts one of her dozen bunnies in the little seat. Margaret is a bunnyholic. This weekend, we were in Atlanta, at a friend's house, and she tried to convince the mom that the little baby owner of the coveted bunny didn't really need the bunny. And that she, Margaret, would take excellent care of the bunny. Didn't work. Neither did her attempt to talk our Aunt Lucy out of her stuffed bunny, promising to take really good care of said rabbit. So, when Margaret stops making "mad faces" at other children, a problem for which she is receiving special education help, she will get a new baby bunny, "just for me," she says.

Margaret and I go to occupational therapy every week at Miss Becky's house. Margaret loves it. It's like a cross between a classroom, a circus and a gymnastics facility. She swings and balances and picks up stuff and draws and just has a great time. So once, Clara came with us, and she loved it. The next time, she wanted to go, and Margaret didn't like this idea. To persuade her, Clara said, "Marg, you're going to be all involved with Miss Becky, and I'm going to be all involved with just myself." I loved that. Margaret was convinced and let Clara come along.

Since I've been so focused on Margaret's plumbing for months, I have noticed that Clara takes care of her needs at home. As do all the other children in their class. At home, Clara knows I don't usually accompany her into the potty unless she needs help with a more substantial matter. So she has taken to saying, "I need to poop." And in I go, ready to help. She and I both know she's not going to do what she says, she just wants me to come along to have me all to herself, if only for a few minutes. "Look, Mama," she will say, "I made ghost poop." Which is why I can't see it.

We have a lot of ghosts in our house, and they are very active. They take the clothes off of one doll and put them on a stuffed rabbit. They will take apart Clara's train and shove the pieces under their table. And they will eat food on the table that someone is saving for later. And sometimes, they walk around the house with towels or blankets on their heads, groaning and moaning and scaring everyone. Maybe I should get those ghosts to sit in the uncooperative chair, Clara says. Not a bad idea.