Holes Where There Shouldn't Be

I had a dream that I lost a tooth last night. In the dream, I actually tried picking it up and placing it back in. I woke up relieved that I wasn't going to be coerced by my mother to go make a Dentist appointment because I was prancing around with a big hole in my smile where there shouldn't be.

I stepped into the kitchen while prospecting what this lovely Saturday held for me. My aunt invited me to accompany her to a day date with her current CASA kid. Casa stands for Court Appointed Special Advocates, and is basically a mentoring program where regular adults are paired up with a foster child in their community. They spend time with them, get to know them, and help the child achieve what they want in court and in their case. It's a very stirring program and I know my aunt finds it both rewarding and humbling. I continued towards the refrigerator and pulled out some eggs and what was left of our whipped cream cheese. Bagel & scrambled eggs for breakfast. Scribbled a huge mental note: need to go to the grocery store. slowly dying from lack of OJ. 

I slipped into my favorite pair of light blue jeans that has many holes where there shouldn't be. In high school (we had a strict dress code), the illicit holes were rips overlaying my knees. And with the wear and tear of a few years, small holes that have begun surfacing below my back pockets- only showing when I bend over. But that hasn't stopped me from wearing them yet. I'm young and choose to be teasingly sexy.

We drove over to the Casa kid, Alice's (not real name), foster home to pick her up. My aunt had precedented our day a bit with Alice's story. In short, Alice was raised by a single mom who was psychologically disrupted from the fact that she had been raped and lost a child a few years after Alice was born. With the combination of bad men and drugs, Alice at the age of 13, was taken from her mother by Child Protective Services. Alice was homeless a year ago, and there had been 14 reports from her school before CPS reached out. My aunt warned me that for a 13 year old, Alice is very mature.

My previous experiences with foster children or children who had faced traumatic circumstances left me feeling slightly anxious but very excited for the day. In high school, I nannied for a family that was home to many foster kids and adopted kids and just kids who had been through a lot. This was an emotionally exhausting, challenging, and irreplaceable experience for me. I learned a lot about how to really love. And really serve. (The majority of any skills obtained from observing the inspiring and selfless couple who pulled it all off.) My heart was constantly breaking for the beautiful small children in front of me who didn't understand why they were feeling so hurt, and at times couldn't even put their feelings into words.

It was eye opening and shocking to hear their stories and see how often they had been failed. It was so hard to see how many holes there are in the Foster Care system, or in the Child Protective System, and even in the Adoption System. Holes that really shouldn't be there. For a while, I was extremely convicted by what I was experiencing and it was hard fighting the urge to just skip college and become an 18 year old foster mom with 24 foster kids (lol). Looking back, I'm glad I opted with the college plan, and I don't really know what my future looks like, but I do hope to always have that door open.

Our plans for the day were painting and burgers at a popular joint in the area, The Dutch Goose. As we sat down at Color Me Mine, Alice and I began conversing. She loved books and wants to be a writer when she grows up. She was confident and cracking jokes. Artistic, and envisioned a specific masterpiece for the ceramic mug in front of her. I liked this girl. I thoroughly enjoyed having an array of colors, paints, brushes, and canvases at the tip of my fingers. I proudly turned in my piece of work,  and eagerly asked when they would be ready for pick up (next Thursday!). I made a gift for Mr.Parker's upcoming birthday (yay!).

At the Dutch Goose, we ogled and drooled over our greasy Bacon cheeseburgers stuffed with guacamole and BBQ sauce. Talking over the cheers from the Italy vs Germany soccer game in the background, we exchanged silly stories from our pasts. Gems like the time 3 year old me found my parents' lube and laminated myself with it were not withheld (thanks Auntie). I then proceeded to write "Diane loves wieners" on the wall behind us. My aunt has an open obsession with wiener dogs. She thought it was funny.

We wrapped the day up with a fabulous trip to Victoria's Secret -- where I decided to trade a new bra purchase in for a Giants game ticket I've been thinking of purchasing -- and an incredibly satisfying waltz through Trader Joe's (!!!)

As I look back on the day and sip on a glass of Orange Juice, I think to myself that I'd like to end more days typing with paint-stained hands.

The Dutch Goose
3567 Alameda de las Pulgas
Menlo Park, CA 94025