Krazy Gonna Krazy

I try not to talk too much about Krazy’s antics publicly, because I don’t like to give her any attention even when she’s not going to know about it… but sometimes she’s just so goddamn insane that we’re all left at a complete loss on how to deal with it, so we end up telling everyone who will listen in hope that we’ll get a tiniest amount of validation that what we’re going through is HOLY SHIT INSANE.
(For anyone who is not aware of who Krazy is, or her history, check out “The K is for Krazy” tag and read backwards for more completely horrifying stories.)

As I said in a previous entry, Marika has been trying to secure assistance for young, at-risk persons via a program called a youth agreement. It’s designed for kids like her who are under 19, not able (or safe) to live with their parents, capable of living independently, but in a situation where financial assistance may be needed for a while (like if you’re pregnant, for instance). Before we knew about the youth agreement program, she was trying to go another route that required the government to call her mom and dad and ask them if they were able to financially support her. Dad, of course, told the truth: he gives what he can whenever he can, but it isn’t much and it definitely isn’t enough for her to live on. He effectively pays Marika her own child support, and helps out additionally whenever he’s able, but dad is a full time student right now so his income is touch and go.
Krazy has no job currently, and while she teaches classes and makes a living that way, she claims she has no money to spare. Marika also has many saved emails from her mother where she says she’ll never give Marika “a single dime” unless she “changes her lifestyle” (read: moves back in with Krazy and allows her to control and abuse her again). Marika has never asked her mother for money, and never wanted to, even when she probably could have really used it, because it’s just another avenue of control and manipulation for her. The last thing her mother needs is another reason to fuck her up.
We’ve gone through this application process twice now, and twice her mother has fucked it up by lying to the government about her financial situation, or about the situation overall. This last time she went through the entire process, she called to check the status a few days later and were told Marika’s file had been closed completely as a result of her mother’s bullshit. When called, Krazy had said that while she had no financial means to support Marika from afar (ie. sending money), she was welcome to move in! The government didn’t seem to think there was anything suspicious about the suggestion that Krazy had absolutely no ability to give Marika financial support, but miraculously had an abundance of money to spend on her if only she would give up her “lifestyle”, make “better choices” and come to live with her. In fact, they thought that was a great idea and immediately, inexplicably closed Marika’s file. Tough shit for you, you whiney-ass teenager, go live with your amazing mother. Don’t you understand how much she loves you?
I was completely dumbstruck. Do these people not even consider for a moment what is going on here? This is exactly why so many teenagers end up homeless, afraid, and addicted. This. This is absolute heartlessness.
When dad heard about what happened he called and absolutely ripped into the worker that closed Marika’s case. She tried to hide behind rules and regulations, at which point he asked if she ever took personal responsibility for anything, ever, and ever thought about the consequences of her ignorance and the actions that she takes without thinking. These are kids lives, and they’re important – too important to be discarded behind a list of arbitrary and inhumane regulations. She hung up on him.
I heard about this conversation through Beth, dad’s partner, because he would never in a million years tell me himself about that kind of outburst. He was furious, and helpless. I felt the same way, but kept my emotion to myself.

After the bullshit rejection, Marika was on the phone immediately: writing complaints to higher powers, contacting a youth advocate and a ministry advocate, and organizing appointments. She’s amazingly capable. An 18 year old me would have sat in a corner crying for 3 weeks. Minimum. I’m continually amazed at how well (not to mention how quickly) she bounces back from life’s craziness, and honestly a little envious that it took me my entire life to earn even a portion of that resiliency.

A few days later Marika went to an appointment with a youth advocate who was extremely helpful, very experienced in dealing with youth who had been fucked by the system, and she immediately went ahead into a full investigation as to why Marika’s was closed without even so much as warning her first.
So, the advocate starts making some calls and finally connects with a government worker who has access to her information. The advocate gives the worker Marika’s name and SIN for search purposes, and the worker tells her that Marika already has a social worker assigned to her and asks if she’s been contacted by her yet. The answer is, of course, no. We had no idea she already had a social worker trying to help her case and this seems like really, really good news! The guy tells the advocate the name of the this social worker, who proves to be unreachable, but he also gives the name of an auxiliary worker who is apparently connected to Marika’s file and stationed in the hospital. She proves to me much easier to reach for information. The advocate calls this hospital-based social worker to inquire about her file, why they haven’t been contacted and why the file was closed without any communication… only to find out that this worker had absolutely no clue what any of that was about. She wasn’t assigned to Marika regarding her income assistance, she was assigned to take Marika’s baby away.
They were set to show up at our (“her”) house right after birth to ‘rescue’ her newborn daughter.
Stunned, the advocate asks why on Earth would they do that.

Why else?
Krazy.

Krazy called CAS (the Canadian equivalent of CPS) and reported that Marika was a crack-addicted, alcoholic prostitute who was endangering her life, and the life of her baby, so seriously that they were willing to show up and take drastic action before conducting a formal investigation. Shoot first, ask questions later. I thought it was required to do an investigation first, and that separating families was always a last resort, but apparently not so in this case…?
That really was the claim, by the way: Marika was a crack addicted, alcoholic prostitute. Not even kidding. I couldn’t make this shit up if I fucking tried.

Marika, being amazing, was able to take this bull by the horns and immediately set to work to clear her name. Her and the advocate showed up at the hospital to meet up with the auxiliary social worker, who exclaimed, “Well, this is clearly a false report” immediately upon meeting her. This was a huge relief, but also made me curious what the fuck was in the details of that report. What on Earth did Krazy say about Marika that had CAS so freaked out? As curious as I am, I don’t think I really want to know.
Thankfully, this auxiliary worker was so aghast at the situation that she’s willing to go completely out of her way to help Marika meet with child protective services to clear her name. She even called me personally to assure me this was an open and shut case and there was no need to worry. The hospital social workers all know me through my work in Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, and this particular woman recognized my name upon hearing it. She was incredibly kind on the phone, and assured me repeatedly that this would be fixed as fast as possible.
“When If first met Marika I worried about her situation, considering her past and her mother, and I wondered if she’d be okay. As soon as she told me who you were and about your family I was relieved: I know she’ll be fine, and I’ll work with her to ensure this is over as fast as possible so she doesn’t have to think about it in her last weeks of pregnancy. No one should.”

The rollercoaster of emotions this has caused has been intense to say the least.

As of today things have proved to be much better, and fixing this bullshit is progressing as quickly and easily as promised. Thank the lord. Marika had her intake meeting this afternoon (accompanied by an advocate. I was originally supposed to come too, but couldn’t make it due to bad timing). Initially the social worker assigned to her seemed… strange, to say the least… she ended up being really wonderful. She was required to call Krazy (again) as part of the assessment, and for the first time we’re actually thrilled that Krazy went crazy and showed someone else her true colours. Upon realizing that her “support” made no difference to this process (ie. it couldn’t terminally fuck it up), she burst into hysterical sobs and kept the worker on the phone for a good 20 minutes while she went on, and on, and on, and on about how victimized she was by her horrible daughter.
At one point during this the worker actually held her hand over the phone and mouthed, “Oh my fucking god” to Marika. This is a good sign. In the end, everything was approved and is going through. We no longer have to worry about this bullshit, and best of all we no longer have to worry that Krazy will continue to fuck up Marika’s attempts to find stability. Marika deserves the opportunity to be her own person, to make her own decisions and to live independently, regardless of whether or not she shares a home with family, friends or strangers.

The icing on the psychotic cake was when Marika wrote her mother a letter during this and confronted her with the evidence (of the financial application stuff, not the CPS stuff… we haven’t let her know we know about that yet), asking why she keeps interfering Krazy replied, and I quote :
“Why don’t you ever blame your father for this? Why is it always me? Put your anger and your blame where it belongs, thank you.”

I am continually amazed at the lengths, and depths, Krazy will go to in order to try and manipulate Marika just one more day.

In spite of all this horrible, horrible bullshit from her mother Marika is doing amazing. She’s getting very close to birth and she’s feeling very positive. She’s glowing and beautiful and happy and excited and just a model pregnant person. She never gets nauseated, she looks amazing, her skin is incredible, she’s barely tired… she’s not even moody. Seeing her glide and twirl her way through pregnancy reminds me why it’s so much easier to have your children young! Even the difference between Tempest and Zephyra, almost 9 years, was astounding to me.
We made a belly cast together last week and it’s still setting on her shelf, awaiting some awesome art or cool idea that I’m sure Marika has for it, and she’s almost set for prefolds and baby clothes. She finally got a chance to meet Jill (my old midwife) who is heartwarming, as always. 15 minutes into the appointment Jill asks, “So you’re a young person, aren’t ya? How old?”
“I’m 18.”
Jill just lit up. “Wow! Wow, wow, wow. 18. That’s so awesome! You’re so cool for having your baby at 18.”
Marika’s body language immediately changed: it was like a weight was lifted off her. Jill was the first outside of dad, me or my mom who has told her that she’s a good person for choosing to have the baby. This is why I fought so hard for her to have Jill as a care provider. I couldn’t stand to imagine that she would end up with an “un-vetted” care provider who might treat her like a pity case; like she’s some poor victimized little baby who will be thrown, lost, in a sea of awfulness. It’s degrading and unnecessary. She’s not stupid and she knows this will be one of the hardest things she’ll ever have to do, but she’s also not helpless. She’s awesome and I’m forever proud of her, even when she pisses me off or hurts my feelings I’m proud of her, and I’m so glad to know that she’s well taken care of.

One of the side effects of seeing her passed back and forth, stressed out and afraid is having all these protective, maternal feelings all over again. It is unreasonably hard to step back from these kinds of situations and let her handle them herself, being a support only if she needs or wants it, rather than jumping right back into being her surrogate mother-type-person and gear up to fight all her battles with her before she even thinks to ask
Sometimes I think I’m doing well and resisting the urge to lick my thumb and wipe smudges off her face, and then I’ll get thrown a curve ball that makes me lose my resolve and literally want to pick her up and rock her back to sleep. Yesterday morning she came up the stairs to wake me at 6:30am, terrified that her water had broken in her sleep. Apologizing all the way she pulled me down into her room, shaking, and pointed to a small spot on her sheets. I gave it a check over before reassuring her that it wasn’t her waters and was probably just excess discharge or sweat: waters smell sweet and will create a mess like you’ve peed yourself. As soon as the words left my lips she ran forward and embraced me, crying into my shoulder, “I couldn’t do this without you, Heather.”
It took everything I had to be strong and not burst into tears right along with her.

She’s almost 39 weeks now. Her due date is coming up fast, though I’m convinced she’ll have her baby on October 1st or 2nd. The third is Xan’s 6th birthday. She hates me for this prediction, but I stand by it.


The kids first week of school was a rousing success. Xan is really enjoying his new school and seems to be doing amazingly well. Though he complains every single day about having to walk there and back. He hates walking. Hates it. Marika recently commented that for someone with that much excess energy, he sure hates burning it off. I think he just likes to whine. It’s irritating as all hell. Regardless, he’s stuck walking there with us every day so he better learn to like it cause I’m sure as hell not paying for the gas to drive the car all of two minutes twice a day. That’s stupid.

He’s in a K/1 split and is one of 10 kids in grade one, I believe. His teacher is very sweet and seems really awesome and well grounded. She’s neither of two extremes: the one side being the overly protective, baby-talking, coddling, “smarter than the parents” type – and the other being the completely harsh, screaming, neglectful, should-not-be-teaching-little-kids type. She’s laid back enough for the kids to love her, but firm enough for them not to walk all over her and whine all day. I really like her. I mean, yes I’ve only seen her this week… but still. So far I like her a lot. If what I’ve seen is an accurate representation of how she is all the time, then she’s my kind of teacher. Xan really, really needs someone with firm boundaries. He’s a serious drama queen and will turn any inch into a mile if you’re not on your toes with him, so he very much needs that kind of instruction. I think the small school and extra attention will be excellent for him too, and I’m actually kind of excited to see how the rest of the year will go. Having him in this school is a big relief.

I’m also really impressed with how the kids and parents are in general. They’re so much more… social, and open, and comfortable to be around. For one, parents don’t treat shy people like they’re assholes and avoid them at all costs, which is nice. The experienced kids immediately approach new ones and say hello or introduce themselves, even the shy kids seem to be much more open and willing to start up a conversation.
But what I’m most impressed with is their dedication to talking things through. Yesterday when I came to pick up Xan a little boy walked up to me and asked, “Are you Xan’s mum?”
“Yes.”
“He made me cry today.”
“Is that true, Xan?”
Xan hid his face and begrudgingly admitted it was. “I think maybe you should say you’re sorry.”
His teacher overheard this and came over to try and mediate. “Xan, I know you were feeling like [your friend] didn’t ever want to play with you again when you said that, is that true?”
“Yes,” Xan said. He started tearing up a little. “He said he wanted to be alone, and I thought he wasn’t going to be my friend anymore, so I said ‘you’re not my friend'”.
The teacher gave him a hug. “I know it’s hard when your friends want some alone time, but it’s okay, and he still likes you. I bet if you go and explain to him what happened he’ll understand. Can you do that?”
Xan nodded and walked over to the boy. The teacher and I stood aside and watched as Xan repeated the story to the boy and apologized sincerely.
“It’s okay,” said the boy. He put out his fist for daps, and Xan stared at it for a long minute before tentatively extending his hand for a high five. The kid rolled his eyes, reformed Xan’s open palm into a fist and bumped it. “Friends?”
“Okay!” yelled Xan, and then he ran off.


On Sunday we brought home a surprise.

Her name is Serendipity, and she’s barely six weeks old. Her mama was not too great to her and effectively abandoned the litter of three when they were about 4-4.5 weeks. Serendipity is the smallest and the most independent, but she needs some TLC. We brought her home wrapped up in a towel and she slept the entire way between my breasts.
We hadn’t breathed a word of this to the kids for several reasons, most importantly in case the plans fell through or she wasn’t healthy enough to be taken… but also because surprising them with a baby kitten is really, really fun.

They were sent over to my mom’s house for a visit, believing us to be shopping at Costco. I mean, we did shop, but we also got the kitten on the way. We returned to an empty home and spent about 20 minutes letting the kitten adjust to the smell and meet the other cats before Curtis went to pick up the kids. We were most concerned about Chloe and her extremely high levels of anxiety. When she was introduced to D’Argo as a kitten she hid her face in my legs and peed herself.
Fortunately that didn’t happen this time; in fact she did incredibly well.


I had gone out and bought some Evo 95% protein canned food for the kitten and scooped a bit out into her bowl with a spoon. Chloe smelled it and immediately came up for a taste. I had the kitten in my lap and was holding the spoon out for her to lick, and Chloe came racing up to take a bite from the other side without even noticing the kitten was there. She and Serendipity were both eating off the same spoon for a good five or six seconds before Chloe realized what was happening and very suddenly let out a bark and ran off. After that they seemed to get along pretty well.

After settling in with the other cats, kitten fell asleep in a towel and I gave Curtis the go-ahead to bring the kids home.

He had them unload the car of groceries and then told them they had chores to do upstairs: fold all the laundry. They griped and whined and fought but Curtis was firm.
They loafed up the stairs and paused at the top when they came to the empty room with only me and Marika sitting against the wall.
Tempest glared at me suspiciously, “Where’s the laundry?”
“I need you guys to sit here,” I said, gesturing to a spot in front of me. Both of them sat down. “We have a new member of the family with us today,” I said.
In unison both of them looked over at Marika’s belly. Nope, still pregnant. They looked back to me.
“Huh?”
I slowly lifted the edge of the towel and revealed the little sleeping kitten inside. Xan smiled but his face remained mostly static… Tempest, on the other hand, was adorable.

Her little hand thing kills me. She’s like an anime character.

The kitten slept through the next hour of love mauls.

Even Zephyra was super cute with her. She kept leaning in and giving her kisses.

When she woke up her and D’Argo spent some time getting to know each other. He kept trying to play with her and she’d get all freaked out and fall over. It was adorable.

Since then, kitten and Baby Z have become best buddies. Serendipity sleeps on Zephyra almost every night, Zephyra is unbelievably gentle with her, they follow each other around the house, the kitten wakes up Z at night by pawing at her face and tries to get her to play (a habit I have tried numerous times to stop).

Her first night here I got no sleep at all. I slept half the night terrified that Curtis would roll on top of her and crush her, so I stayed awake cradling her in my arms. When I finally drifted off around 3:30am I was awakened a few hours later by her crying and shaking on my chest. I picked her up for a cuddle and immediately smelled it: she’d pooped on the bed between Curtis and I, and apparently got so freaked out by it that she immediately jumped onto my chest and woke me up.
I ended up out of bed for the next half hour to bathe her in the sink and clean up the mess, which she wasn’t too happy about. I wrapped her little shaking body in a warm towel and brought her back to bed for a cuddle. She curled up under my breast and fell asleep. I awoke a few more hours later to find her on her back underneath my breast, lapping up the milk that was dripping onto her face.

The next night we were faced with a conundrum: fence her off in the other part of the upstairs with a litter box, or let her in the bed again and risk her having more accidents. Curtis and I both agreed that we’d rather put towels down than leave her alone, she’s just too little. Fortunately, the next night was better and she pooped on the floor next to the bed before waking me up instead. She’s been much better with the box since then, and makes a huge ruckus just before she has to poop so everyone knows. Even Tempest has figured out how to tell the “poop cry” from “normal cry”, and runs her over to her box. Both the kids are really good with her, even the gross parts.
The next morning was a school day, and no one would be home when I took Xan in so I decided to put the kitten in my sweater and walk her to school with us instead of leaving her in the house alone. She was surprisingly good and slept through most of the 15 minute walk. When I entered Xan’s classroom to drop him off I instantly became the most interesting person in the room. Kids approached from every corner of the school with their hands out.
“Is that a kitten!?” The word set off a small, quiet mob of children sneaking in to get a peek. They were really quiet and very gentle, and the kitten didn’t even wake up through all the love mauls.
When I came back to pick Xan up after school I was able to leave her at home with Marika, and 15 kids approached me as soon as I walked in to find out if I had her with me again.

We haven’t had a kitten in the house since Chloe and Moe were born in ’99. Curtis has never actually seen or interacted with a baby animal. Like, ever. This is astounding to me as someone who grew up in farm country and was constantly surrounded by animals giving birth and little baby everything hopping around. Sheeps, calves, foals, goslings, chicks, farm kittens… they were everywhere and it seemed very normal to constantly be surrounded by it. Sometimes I forget Curtis has led such a city boy life. How did he make it 30-some years without ever holding a kitten?! It’s crazy how new and exciting these things are, and watching him fall completely in love with her is fucking adorable. As soon as he gets home from work he’s crawling on the floor looking for her, and even the kids laugh at him for it.

Isms of the Day:

#1
At dinner Xan asks, “Can I have some of the beef?”
Curtis: “Beef?!”
Xan: “Yes, can you pass the beef, please?”
Curtis: “Xan we don’t have any beef at the table.”
Xan points at one of the plates. “That beef!”
Curtis: “That is not beef.”
Xan: “Well it looks like beef.”
Curtis: “It has chocolate sauce on it.”
Xan: “Beef can have chocolate sauce.”
Curtis: “You thought it was beef with chocolate sauce?”
Xan: “Isn’t it?”
Curtis: “Xan, that’s pumpkin bread. Pumpkin bread with chocolate sauce.”
Xan rolls his eyes: “Okay fine. Can you pass the pumpkin-beef bread, please?”

#2, FB repost
Yesterday, as we pried Xan away from the kitten to go to sleep he put his hands up over his head as he descended the stairs and said: “The kitten is way cuter than the baby. I’m just sayin’.”

#3, FB repost
While trying to explain the concept of accents to the kids, this conversation ensued:
Me: “[store owner] has an accent because he’s from Britan”.
Tempest: “Where’s Britan?”
Me: “Across the ocean. They mostly speak english in Britan just like here, but it sounds different.”
Xan: “Is it a different language?”
Me: “No, British English and Canadian English are pretty much the same except for a few sla
ng words. Other people might have an accent if they grew up learning a different language, or grew up in a country where English isn’t always spoken, like [Xan’s friend’s family] have accents because they grew up in Mumbai.”
Tempest: “Ohh. Did daddy have an accent since he grew up in another country?”
Me: “Yes but he lost it after living here for a while.”
Curtis: “I grew up speaking another language!”
Tempest: “REALLY?”
Curtis: “Yep. American.” (said as “Merc’n”)
Tempest, side-eyeing him: “… What does it sound like?”
Curtis: “Mumbles, drawls and lots of words like ‘freedom'”.
At this point Tempest is pretty sure he’s kidding, but Xan is all ears.
Xan: “Can you speak it now?!”
Curtis: “No, I forced myself to forget it.”
Tempest: “How?”
Curtis: “Through many years of intense socialism therapy.”

#4
Xan is playing video games at the computer, and Zephyra comes over and stands at his side crying and pulling on his shirt. He ignores her.
Me: “Xan, please let the baby share the chair with you.”
Xan: “Ugh! No! She gets into so much trouble!”
Me: “Xan, she would really like to cuddle with you. Just for a minute.”
Xan: “Fine, but you watch: she’ll get into trouble. Thousands of trouble. THOUSANDS!”

Links of the Day:
The nicest place on the internet – In case you need a hug today.
Bad Lip Reading: Twilight – Seriously the funniest BLR I’ve ever seen. Also a huge improvement on the original dialogue.
Miracle baby alive after death declaration“She was a tiny thing: 1 pound 12 ounces, cold as a frozen bottle and left for dead. But she would survive. That night, Boutet began insisting on seeing her dead daughter’s body, Veron said. She wanted to take a picture with her cell phone of the baby just as she lay, as a memory. It took some cajoling, but finally, hospital officials allowed the couple to visit the baby in the hospital morgue around 10 p.m. “They put the coffin on top of a stretcher and we looked for a little crowbar to open it because it was nailed shut,” Veron told a local television station. “It was nailed shut. I put the crowbar in there and started prying. I took a breath and took the lid off.” Boutet approached the baby’s body, touched her hand, and heard a cry, Veron told CNN.
She jumped back. “It’s my imagination, it’s my imagination,” she repeated.
But the baby was alive, and crying.”

Welfare recipients are actually mostly white and less likely than the average American to use drugs – Everyone should read this, especially conservative assholes who like to whine about “their” tax dollars (because welfare recipients don’t also pay tax?). Hat tip to Adinah.

Comments

comments

2 Comments

  • Sylvanna says:

    Well, that was the absolute Kraziest Krazy has ever been! I’m sure you’re all so very glad to have looked into Marika’s case closure. It could have been such a nightmare.

    Hi Serendipity!

  • Korena says:

    I want to give Marika a standing ovation for being able to deal with all that shit so gracefully. That is so EFFED UP I don’t even know what to say, other than I’m so glad that it all seems to be working out for her now!!

    Tempest and the kitten are making my heart melt!

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