Small Things Are Big Things

I helped my friend out with the Little Penelope Lane Boutique, and loads of my Internet friends (yay internet) came by to chat. It was the best!
Here I am at the boutique with my favorite sidekick…
(Photo stolen from the Penelope Lane IG and AMAZING dress bought at the Spotted Moth at the Orange circle. Go there! I should have bought so much more. True story.)
Two friends, told me how impacted they were by the posts I wrote about our first hosting with Safe Families. Their words really meant a lot to me. I love writing, but sometimes I wonder if anyone reads what I write… or if a story is worth telling.
Whether or not people do… I think it is.

We are currently in our third hosting. It’s been 2 and a half months, and I’m honestly not sure when it will end.
Or if I want it to end.
But that’s a story for another day!
Today I’ll write about our second Safe Families Hosting, a three-year-old little girl, Abby. (Name changed for the post.) I didn’t journal during this hosting so this post comes from a hindsight perspective… so some reflection will be involved.
(Oh how I wish I had been journaling our current hosting… it’s a doozy!)
We were called about Abby just a few days before she needed to be placed. Her mom, Casey, was having surgery and needed placement for six days so she would have time to recover. Casey is a single mom of five, who lives with extended family, but no one would be able to watch all the kids during this time.
Sure, why not?
I picked up Abby in Santa Ana at her family’s home. The first thing I notice, is the house is extremely clean. In fact, it’s immaculate! And there is a HUGE Catholic alter just in the entry way. I actually really love Catholic alters. I feel like there is something powerful about designating a part of your home toward your faith. It was huge and filled with dead Jesus. I prefer the live one.
This was the first time I got to meet a parent because our first hosting was a transfer from another family and the drop off was done by the Safe Families staff. Meeting Casey was a powerful moment and I was struck by a couple things. First, the level of vulnerability she must feel. I mean she is leaving her 5 children with 5 different families… of strangers! She is trusting us with her everything. And second, I wondered what kind of future her and her kids will have. I felt like she was stressed and just getting by. I instantly felt that Mom Bond, us moms have, and got to affirm her for finding safe places for her kids.
Abby was asleep on the couch with a bag of Cheetos in her hand.
She was adorable.
Casey gave me a bag of Abby’s things then we loaded her in the car. Abby woke up and immediately started crying. Like a lot. She was screaming for her mom and I thought she was never going to stop. She did eventually settle down on the long car ride toward our home and just stared at all of us with her beautiful brown eyes.
We met Brad out for dinner on his way home from work, because I will always look for an excuse not to cook. The first thing I did before taking Abby out of the car was check for lice. (Can you blame me!?!?!) She looked clear, but because I’m a crazy paranoid lice person, I didn’t take any risks before I could really check at home.
She didn’t want to eat (Flame Broiler) and I didn’t want to force her. I mean, can you imagine what she’s thinking? She is woken up from a Cheetos-induced-slumber and thrown into a car with a bunch of pale strangers. Poor thing just looked frightened.
After dinner Abby was having a blast running around with our kids. At least I think she was having fun. She didn’t look scared anymore, but I never saw her smile.
We got home and I stripped her down to her diaper and put all the clothes she was wearing, and all the clothes from her backpack, and her backpack, AND her dolls, into the washer to wash on hot. (My insane lice trauma.) Then we marched right up to the bathroom for a bath while Brad set up her bed in the girls’ room. I was snuggling her after she was washed and in cozy PJs, when I thought, “maybe I should just do a quick comb through with my fancy lice comb, (I have one you know)… just in case.”
I got my comb and ran it through.
Mmmmm… what’s that?
I pulled the little speck from my comb, and placed it on the tip of my finger.
I was speechless. Heart beating rapidly. Blood draining from my face.
No effin’ way!
Lice.
”BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!”
My husband ran to find me wide-eyed, pale faced, on the floor in the bathroom holding Abby, with one louse on my finger tip.
I cannot lie. I wanted to walk that sweet little girl out the front door and wait in the yard till someone from Safe Families could pick her up.
True Story.
I’m not being overly dramatic.
The lice incident was traumatizing. (Those of you who know, know.)
But sanity prevailed. I pinned up my hair, plopped Abby back into the bathtub, got the oil and proceeded to comb the lice and nits out of her hair. Just over an hour later, I was tucking her into bed, which we moved into the playroom, and loading the bath towels, mats, all my clothes, and the first pair of PJs I had put on her, into the washer.

The next three-ish days I combed Abby’s hair out 1-3 times a day and kept it in pig tails. I put my girls’ hair up, and would do a quick spritz of hair spray to help prevent full infestation. I changed Abby’s sheets everyday, vacuumed the couches and carpet.
And you know what?
It never spread.
And that was great wonderful excellent delightful superb magnificent good.

Also over those three days, I noticed Abby was very quiet – kind of like she was trying to be invisible. She rarely made eye contact, ate very little, and never smiled. I wondered if she could understand us. I tried speaking in Spanish, but she would just look at me with a blank expression. I began to think she was kinda dumb.
The only event I really remember during that time is a BBQ we had with our Life Group. We had 7 couples over and loads of kids. Abby didn’t eat and just watched from the outskirts of the party. She would stand just outside the glow of our café lights and look curiously at everyone.
I still wonder what was going through her head.

The last three days of the hosting is when we met the real Abby.
Sassy, bossy, helpful, charming, and extremely bright.
Abby.
Abby was funny and loved to tattle on Cyrus and the little boy I was watching. She reminded me of Michelle Tanner on Full House. A spicy/sweet/smart personality. She was also a little mama’s helper and liked to bring me the wipes while I was changing diapers. I didn’t have to ask her to do a task – when she saw she could help with something, she would.
The big thing I remember is going through her clothes – 90% of them were way too small. The pair of shorts she was wearing when we picked her up were size 6-9 month! She would fuss a bit when her shoes were on, so we checked her size and they were 1 and a half sizes too small.
No wonder!
We got her new shoes and she LOVED them. She would smile. That little frightened girl would grin ear to ear when I asked her to put on her shoes.
It was adorable.
And powerful to me.
Shoes are such a small thing and made the biggest difference.
Just $12 toddler shoes.

Another notable thing was her attachment to Eli.
Abby loved Eli! She wanted to hold his hand always and that was just precious.
Eli loved Abby. He still boasts that he was her favorite person in the family.

Before we knew it, 6 days had come and gone and I was taking Abby back to her home.
She ran to meet her siblings, and never looked back.
I can’t lie, a hug would have been nice.
I talked with Casey for a few minutes. Again, affirming her for going to Safe Families, and also affirming all the great qualities I saw in Abby. (I also gave her my fancy lice comb and step by step instructions about getting rid of lice.)
As I was driving away, I thought about Abby and what the future holds for her. The thought crossed my mind, “she would have a better life with us, or a family like ours.” And yes, I realize all the wrong in that statement. But the reality is, a middle class family with a mother and father, would supply Abby with resources and maybe even emotional support she doesn’t currently have.
Because all children raised in the middle class turn out perfect.
In case it isn’t obvious, that is sarcastic tone. But you can’t discount the additional opportunities my children will have over Abby and her siblings. What my children do with those opportunities… well… that’s up to them.

Now, I’m sure you are thinking the story is over.
It’s not.
2 weeks later I got a phone call from Casey. She sounded exasperated. She quickly said “hi,” then started to talk about how she wanted to get a job and her own place, and that her kids never listen to her, and asked if we would raise Abby.
Say what??
Are you asking me to adopt your daughter?
Casey had a meeting with the social worker the next day.
So I said, “I can tell you love your kids so much, and I’m not sure what the answer is as far as adopting your children, but I do know there are resources that can do job training and help your family stay together.”
I also told her that we would host Abby anytime she needed help.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it could be in Abby’s best interest to be adopted. If Casey was pregnant and made the decision to adopt her newborn, it would be considered a noble choice. To some, maybe even the highest act of love a parent can do for their child.
But Casey isn’t pregnant. She has 5 children under 9-ish, with 5 different men. She is a good enough mom and is overwhelmed.
I feel like there is some disconnect for kids like Abby.
How can spicy/sweet/smart kids like her catch a break?
Adoption?
Luck?
Fate?
Or people like you and me doing Small Things?
We don’t have to be asked to do a task – when we see we can help with something, we should.
Like $12 shoes that fit.

We were called to host Abby again, for about three days of respite care, but there was a greater need for a two-year-old boy, so we went in that direction.
And we’ve been in that direction for 2 and a half months.
More on that another day!