Cyr and Ava had their interviews yesterday. Cyr did very well in describing her feelings toward me and the interview on the way there. This is extremely difficult for her b/c she doesn't actually feel much. She has a very flat affect, there is no high or low, ever. No other child would be praised for telling their Mom that they hate listening to them talk, they think their Mom is stupid, or they feel like they are going to throw up if they have to describe the way their body is reacting to their feelings. She didn't raise her voice and I felt she was being honest so I praised the heck out of her only irritating her more. When we got there she was extremely cold towards me (typical) and I maintained a tight grip on her control of the situation in the playroom. I asked her to make eye contact with the interviewer when she came in to introduce herself, I was reprimanded later by the interviewer for being too strict. That was the only thing that irritated me about these folks and it really wasn't their fault, they do not understand the attachment part, sadly most don't and I look like a witch to the teachers, extended family, and general public. It stings every time and I think she enjoys making me look that way. I forced my hug and kiss as she went off to the interview, again looking weird when any normal child would have reciprocated and made it a normal exchange but her strange reaction to my love makes me look weird or unloving in some way. How does that happen? I got off there on a tangent, sorry. She did well, she looks believable and "so sweet". Again, it must be me that is the freak in this situation.

Ava continued to talk miles around the male interviewer. He gave up after 30 minutes and admitted she might have nothing to say.

I came home to a lovely home, dinner, and half the kids bathed thanks to my MIL. She is a resource we will greatly miss when we move across the state. (At least , you won't have to be awoken to hear me freaking out about missing socks anymore, Nanny.)

Ruthie has been doing the laundry. She seems to enjoy it and even though she is not good at it, I don't have to fight her. She is required to fold and separate the clothes for everyone and place the stacks on the steps, that's it. I personally washed all the socks yesterday so I knew they were clean but couldn't find a single pair of socks or Michael's pants this morning. I panicked and called my MIL after an hour and a half, hoping their disappearance was a misunderstanding and they were sitting somewhere. She, of course, had no idea what the heck I was talking about but suggested I look under the sofa Ruthie had been folding on. She was right and saved the day, I had less than 5 minutes to get each of the remaining 5 children socked and shoed before the bus came. Ruthie had stuffed ALL of our socks under there so she didn't have to match them. I am grateful she and Patches had already left for school wearing my DH's size 15 socks, it no probably saved her life. I imagine their teachers are wondering why they are wearing them.

I have to pack today. I don't want to. Maybe we could just move into a fully furnished house instead. With all the packing and cleaning I am doing in my dreams, I am surprised to find it still here every morning staring back at me, taunting me. I am getting very little sleep again, and if I do dose I am having crazy, wild dreams. The other night I had married into the mafia and they had sent someone to kill my DH b/c his new BIL was an FBI agent. They were right outside my window and later out front of our house. Every time I would go back to sleep they were there trying to kill us. I have also moved and unpacked several times, once into a mansion without the kids.