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The Upstate Moss's will welcome our fifth baby boy this February.

When I decided to send my two oldest to school, I figured it was simply time. I had this great, philosophical attitude about the whole thing. I taught them our values, I taught them Church teaching. Heck, I immersed them whole-heartedly for the past 15-13 years in what we believe. It's now up to my kids to take those values and teachings and decide for themselves what to do with them. If I am lucky, they will embrace them. Or maybe they will fall into step with what everyone else is doing, and come back to them later in life, as many people do. Or they may simply reject them.Fact is, I have done is all I can do. I can't dictate their feelings and I have desire to control them.

They of course are still children, and just because I put them in public school, doesn't mean I am throwing in the towel. It just means I simply do not have the same amount of control as I used as to what they are exposed to. I actually think that is a good thing. It is one of the many reasons I decided it is time for them to go. I do not want them to be faced with people problems when they are away from home, and do not have family support to fall back on.

Before I go on, let me state, these are my reasons for my children, right here and now, where we are in our lives. This is not a formula I think every good Christian parent needs to follow. Every situation is different, every parent is different, every child is different. All this is is me reflecting (ok, blathering...whining) about stuff on my mind in regard to current choices I have made in my very hormonal state (hence my need to work things out in writing)

So, here I had this great philosophical attitude that shaped my judgments. Why is it then the first time a teacher starts his anti-Catholic rhetoric, I start to panic? I mean it is expected, it's popular intellectual thinking, how the Church ruined the world throughout history. How the Church kills people with Humanae Vitae. How the Church is made up of misogynists because they preach against abortion. When I thought about it, I was ashamed of my own answer: the teacher was telling my daughter her parents are wrong. I want to say because "he is misleading kids" and other more altruistic answers, which I do feel, but the heart of the matter is I was insulted. This is my culture and he is dissing it. He probably has no idea. Just like all the Albany priests say they cannot preach about abortion, contraception, divorce from the pulpit, because you might insult someone, I have a feeling it didn't occur to this teacher that there might be a child of a practicing Catholic family in his classroom who embrace Catholic teaching right down to the no-divorce/no-contraception teachings. So after my own personal revelation, I decided, (like hopefully sane people usually do) get over myself, to stay my course and move forward.

I think, as it turned out I had very little to worry about as as my daughter is concerned. My daughter came home that afternoon with more questions about what she learned in history that didn't seem "quite right'. She said she learned about the Western Schism and that the purpose was to make money and persecute Protestants, which didn't sit right with her. She also wanted to know how it would play out today, who would be the "real" pope-the one in Rome or in Avignon. I have to admit, the little I learned on the schism always confused (and gasp, bored) me, so I told her to call my father.

Do you remember when Jeff Miller said "scratch a dissident and you will find someone upset about some area of the Church's teaching on sexual morality"? No exception here. I over heard her tell my father that the teacher complains a lot that he is divorced and feels birth control is necessary. She also said that she liked her global teacher, she loves how intelligent he is and that he was the only teacher to give her an assignment on the first day of school. She said she didn't understand why he simply didn't say "I made a mistake and that area of Church teaching was hard for me to follow", but rather turns it into a long vent against the Church. When he starts his stuff on what's wrong with the Church, it makes her doubt his intelligence, because he is plain wrong. She also said that it worries her that is she hears so much mythology day in and day out about what the Church teaches or what happened, she will no longer question it and try to seek out the truth-just simply take it at face value. My father told her the rule of thumb regarding Church history is, unless you understand the theology and what was going on at the time, you never get a full story of what happened and what truly motivated people. They are simply leaving holes in the story and making up the rest.

I thought my father gave good advice about Church history. And I thought I should pray for the teacher. Imagine how much of struggle his choices are that an otherwise intelligent man has to hold a captive audience of 15-year olds hostage to hear about his therapy. Sheesh, that's what blogs are for.

Day 3 of school-my daughter's global teacher for no apparent reason, had the typical "well I'm Catholic, but of course I don't agree with Church teachings, especially on birth control. " Along with a discussion about how it is acceptable to be Catholic and not go to Church, because most Catholics do that.

I told my daughter "well he's not Catholic then."

What this had to do with the topic at hand? Not sure...

How annoying a ride this has been just to get the kids in there. For home schoolers, NYS requires a Notice of Intent sent to the school board by July 1. An "IHIP" or basically a curriculum in within six weeks of the Notice of Intent, quarter reports with samples of work handed in each quarter, and starting at second grade, some sort of assessment every other year, and every year in high school. This can range from a standardized test to a statement hand written by a teacher. We used St. Thomas Aquinas Home School Academy for the older grades (which I highly recommend) and they assessed the kids at the beginning of the school year to devise their curriculum, so I sent that in.

This local school district, for whatever reason, always asks for more than the legally required, such as they make up their own outline for an IHIP demanding booklists with publisher and author names, they send me out dates for the state tests stating the kids must take these specific state tests, they send me quarter report notices when the traditional school semester ends despite the fact that the law states 180 days out of the school year, not that it has to be within the traditional day after Labor Day until the last week of June.

After all that work, at the end of HS, all you have to show for it is you were simply "compliant". They do not get a diploma. You can get a GED, or take an additional 24 credits at a community college. Home schoolers are not elegible to take the state Regents exams which would entitle students to a Regents dipolma, which is basically a passport to NYC schools. Since money is an object, we were hoping Rosey Posey could attend a state school, at least in the beginning.

With all that attention and demands on our home school, you would think they are super attentive to their traditional students. You'd think.

We were told by the HS, since our kids were home schooled, that our records (all that dang paperwork I submitted) would be at the school district office, and to give the home schooling liason (the woman who sends all the threatening letters letting me know they are watching me) a call so they can figure out what grade to put Rosey Posey in. They said since we didn't use a "state curriculum" and take the "state tests" she might have to repeat ninth grade to get credit. Part of me was annoyed, and part of me knew we would have to pay for our home schooling insolence, so I warned Rosey Posey, who of course, threatened to run away.

We called the school district office, and left a message. And called again. And again. Fed up, we stopped by her office. She was in the back and when the secretary said we were there (we could see her) she said "tell them I'm busy". Oh my husband was livid.

We went from there right back to the high school guidance office. The secretary (who is a very nice lady) didn't understand why they nor we had not heard from the school district home schooling liason lady (her exact title of "Director of State and Federal Projects") have not gotten back to them or us. My husband who was angry said "because she refused to see us!" I said "Now Polo, they said she was busy."

"No, don't correct me! She refused to see us."

Perhaps I should not have corrected him, because less than an hour later, Rosey Posey who was at home (we left there and went to the store) got a call from the guidance counselor 9this was last Friday) saying they are putting her in tenth grade, into the college-bound course of study and take it from there. If it's too hard or too easy, they will tweak the classes as needed. She said to call first thing Tuesday morning to come in and devise her schedule. What a relief.

Tuesday comes and we call at 8.30 AM...and call...nothing.

Wednesday comes and we call. Finally we get a return call around noonish (school started yesterday-Thursday). The guidance counselor said "now who are you and why are you calling?" we explained "How can I devise your curriculum without your records?"
Bangs head against wall. "Oh, I think it's coming back to me..." Deo Gratias we went in, devised a schedule which I swear is identical to my 10th grade schedule.

I had a "proud Momma" moment when the counselor asked if she wanted to take health 1 health class is needed for graduation. Rosey Posey asked "is that sex ed?"

The counselor skirted "yeah, it's about the body and health issues and some sex talk in involved. "

" I don't want to do sex ed."

OK, I guess we'll hold off.

She also wanted to know if Rosey Posey had ever done things like be around people before, ever been inside a school, ever played a sport, ever seen other children. I thought despite everything, the lady was genuinely nice and probably had no idea she was speaking in terms of stereotypes vs. reality. We had a nice chuckle about it after the fact.

For the first time, Rosey Posey, who had been threatening to never, ever forgive me for as long as live for putting her in school, and was going to run away, seemed excited.

OHmygosh, we spent a fortune on necessary school supplies, gym sneakers, a rudimentary wardrobe...what was needed in binders, boxes of tissues, correct pens, index cards etc. we could have used on home schooling books for nearly everyone.

More in a bit...

If someone wants to give me lessons on the art of self-portraiture, I'm all ears...or eyes. Until this, this is as good as it gets. :)

I am home alone for the long weekend. My husband took the kids to visit my MIL. He offered to leave me to get a break, especially from the nursling I have been trying to wean with no luck, but at first I blew him off. First they are stopping in the Bronx to visit relatives, then on to Central New Jersey. I realized I cannot handle the trip. I just can't. Last time I went to Mt. Vernon (about 2.5 hours away) a few weeks ago, I thought I was going to die. I'm gettin' old and this pregnancy is kicking my a*s.

So what am I going to do? Well, I just mopped the kitchen floor with the joy of knowing it will stay clean for more than 10 whole minutes, and I scrubbed the kitchen trash can knowing no little person is going to throw something sticky away in between the kitchen bag and the can for a few days. I am sewing some lunch bags for Rosey Posey and Posco for school next week, and UPS just dropped Archbishop Chaput's book off on my doorstep. Tonight I am going to bake one, count them, only one calzone for supper (which is barely cooking at all) and hope it doesn't send my blood sugar sky rocketing (which has also become an issue as of late-but I am tired of complaining, I have 5 months left to complain on this blog about that). I might even go to breakfast on my own one day.

It's so weird that there was a time in my life that I started out as one person. Can't remember...

Many members of my family have "issues" (like every other family), and of course gossip stems from these various issues (although I guarantee these days I am the source of plenty of fodder-actually I know I am as I stumbled in a conversation about me and "all those kids", but that's another story).

One common complaint was of a family member who at one point in her life discovered QVC and before she knew it was deep in credit card debt. She later remedied the problem and cut up her cards, but the topic comes up every now and then in family circles. When I think about my relative, and where she was in her life, I could easily see how she made such a mistake. I said so last time the topic came up: "you know, if I didn't have a bunch of kids and I had time to watch QVC, and had disposable income, I could see myself doing the same thing." Of course my family's reaction was simply "oh yeah, of course you would!" as opposed to putting themselves in our relative's shoes.

But it's true. I think there are a ton of really stupid things I would do if I didn't have children to force me to be more responsible and gain perspective. Or be healthy. Another trait that runs in my family is perfectionism and OCD. I will not at all claim I am not OCD, not by a long shot. But having a bunch of littles, four of which are boys in a row, and the various pets, germs, spills, and diapers will cure you quickly. Before I freaked when everything wasn't clean and spotless. I kew we'd get bugs, or diseases or a random social worker would stop by and say "You have children here? In this house with two spots on the white area rug?!?" Today I just tell them make sure they don't use the couch cushions to build their forts when company comes, so no one sees the crunched up Goldfish crackers underneath them.

Although dirt is not limited to little boys. Yesterday I had my daughter in a white t-shirt and pink capris. The second she got out, she hopped and giggled, and rolled on the ground. Back and forth and proceeded to roll under the van. My three year decided to help her by doing what any three-year old would do, he started prodding her with a stick under the van (I think the giggles coming from under the van were too much for him). My neighbors came home from Dollar General or Wal-Mart or where ever it is they go to look on in horror as my toddler rolled and giggled. I had the sudden urge to say "neighbor's kid" but I knew that wouldn't hold water since they were my neighbors. I was a responsible Mommy. I sat on the porch and yelled (quite forcefully, mind you) "Hey You, Fredegar! Stop poking your sister with a stick when she is rolling around under the van!" Actually my husband was only two feet away and he retrieved her right away, so I was really not as neglectful as I sounded.

When she emerged she was blackened with dirt, her little white t-shirt and her little pink pants. Another time, i would have required some sort of tranquilizer. These days "oh well, that's why God gave us pre-treater,"

I think everyday there is another reason having children gives me a better sense of perspective.

another long stupid story, but stick around for the t-shirt part. We decided to put the two oldest is public school. In order to do that we needed their immunizations records. My husband went by our old doctor's office (we just switched doctors like 2 weeks ago) to sign a release form and get the records. there were no records. Unfortunately, I know why. When we moved from NJ to upstate NY in '99, we doctor hunted for a bit and there was a delay in transferring records until we settled. Somewhere around 2002-2003, it was brought to our attention the records were never transferred. I proceeded to call our old doc's office and got a lecture about "well, those records are super buried," I just decided to mail a medical release form and assumed that was the end of it. Since the kids are home schooled, I never had a need to check. Well, my request was ignored.

My husband called and got the same lecture-I think the woman taped it and replayed it from the last time. But thank you Dear Husband, his reply was something like "well I don't give a crap, I need those records." He called the next day and got more attitude. So we decided on Plan B. we called the County Health Office and asked about having the kid's shots redone because by the time these people get off their posteriors...County Health said that idea was fine, it shouldn't hurt them medically and just get a note saying they got their first round of shots...First i called our brand new family practitioner. Another problem,he doesn't do immunizations. He prefers patients 5 and up because he doesn't have enough pediatric patients to keep immunizations around.

Sooo, I call the local pediatrician (there are two, and one happened to be my previous landlord, so we refuse to go to him). We explain the situation, they say "fine", just change your insurance. I did. I called again and explained to make the appointment. OK, no problem. Yesterday was the appointment. When I get there, I explain the kids are new patients because the receptionist seemed baffled by my lack of records. We are waiting and the other four kids with me, especially the two youngest are not behaving, they are commotion making, and one of course had to have an "accident". When the receptionist called my oldest two in, I asked her if they could just go in as I had all the smaller children, and explained again what they needed-their first round of shots for school as we cannot locate their records, and a note to the schools stating they got their first round and will continue to get the rest of their immunizations.

The doctor refused to give them their shots because they didn't have their records. But while they were in the office, he gave them a lecture about what's wrong with home schooling: "Does your mother know physics? Does she know calculus? I'm a doctor and I don't even know physics and calculus. That's why you need to be in school." Are you freakin' kidding me?

My friend says I really need the t-shirt that says: " please comment on my life. i need your judgment"

I thought I must have been wearing the shirt, but my friend pointed out that since I home school, it is not legible. If I had the shirt, I would seriously wear it at this point.

Yesterday, when I told my husband this story, he called the doc's office in NJ back and yelled at them some more, so they should be faxing the records over today.

Update: The doctor did fax over the immunization records. That is done. There was trouble deciding what grade to put Rosey Posey into because the home schooling contact person at the School Board would not return my calls. My husband went to the school and complained. The guidance counselor called right back today, put her in 10th grade and even said to Rosey Posey over the phone "there should be no problem because you home schoolers are always advanced."

Now I am hearing the middle school is worse than the public. A friend of mine is getting me an application for the local Catholic school (which is supposedly one of the few orthodox Catholic schools in the diocese) for tuition assistance. I wasn't going to put them in the Catholic school because we cannot afford it. My friend said they give out so much assistance to non-practicing Catholics, she would rather see people from families like mine helped out and to spread a genuine Catholic atmosphere in their parish school. What a nice compliment. :)

I have to tell you their real names for a second, because this is funny. My daughter, Dree (short for Adrianna) is best friends with another home schooled girl named Bree (short for Brianne). Bree's family owns a drive-in where Dree works the weekends. Since they work late into the night, Dree often ends up spending weekends at Bree's house.

Here's the catch: according to Dree and Bree, Bree's house is haunted. Every once in a while Dree comes home with tales of odd lights or shadows. Last weekend apparently was quite and adventure for the two girls with all kinds of spooky events. Dree relayed them to me the tale in the hopes I would believe her. I did because similar things have happened in my grandmother's haunted house. So I did what any Catholic mother in my place would do-I handed her a St. Benedict medal to keep with her if she is worried.

Bree was absolutely baffled that a medal with an exorcism prayer exists, and even worse, that Dree's mom just happened to have one handy. (I don't know, I think my mom has a wooden chest under her bed with all kinds of stuff like that...)

According to Dree, the conversation went as follows:

Bree: so did you tell your Mom about the incident with the ghosts at my house?

Dree: Yeah

Bree: Well, what did she say?

Dree: Um, nothing much, she gave me a St. Benedict exorcism crucifix.

Bree: silence...A what?!? What is that and there is such a thing?

Dree: explains to her what it is etc...

Bree: Well, what makes it special?

Dree: Well, it was blessed by a priest.

Bree: And what makes him special?

Dree: Well he was ordained.

Bree: What does missing body parts have to do with it?

silence

Bree: Um, ordained doesn't mean "missing body parts" does it?

Dree: No, Bree no.

This past weekend we revealed to the last of the four parents that we are expecting again, which was met with the usual-absolute anger and disgust. My father-in-law who happily admits he wanted his son aborted is angry. Whatever. I want a new family.

Well, that's done with. All parents and grandparents down. Not a single congratulations. Just anger form people who take as little interest in our lives as possible in the best of circumstances. I'm beat.

Trying to be fun and creative while pregnant. I am almost sure my morning sickness is starting to abate...finally! I no longer experience sea sickness from trying to concentrate on things like books, or sewing. I have been able to do my daily minimum of three loads each day. Although don't ask me to plan a decent meal just yet that doesn't involve something frozen. Let's not push it.

But the absent mindedness-this is ridiculous! I tried to sew the simplest top for my daughter today, and what a fiasco I got myself into! It was going to be a nice Sunday project and a surprise for my daughter. I think the stupid thing had like 7 steps total or something like that. First I couldn't thread my serger. I just sat there staring at the dang thing looking at the arrows wondering what to do next. Then the instructions might as well have been in Greek or upside down. I kept getting the steps wrong. Normally, I have been sewing long enough that I've seen the steps so many times before, so they need not be scrutinized too carefully. For example, I don't have to read how to hem a skirt, or even need the instructions to tell me that is the last step. But I made the dumbest mistakes. I kept sewing the wrong pieces together when I totally knew better and wonder "why on earth did I do that?" Then I went to press the interfacing onto a piece of fabric, but had it upside down, so I only succeeded in getting it stuck to the ironing board. I was like in this perpetual state of dysfunction.

At the time it was frustrating, now it is almost comical.Today I learned a valuable lesson: if I am going to sew for fun these days, realize that is all it is going to amount to: fun , but don't expect anything to be worn...unless it is out of revenge.

So here's what has happened with that incident. A "friend" looked up the records for us. There was " just a blotter" (for those who know cop-speak, I guess you know what this means) filed saying my little one did run into the street, the first lady stopped her car, the lady behind her almost hit her and she called the police. The officer spoke to me warning me to watch my kids. Other than that, nothing was sent to child protective services, or beyond that.

I wish someone would have explained that to me right then and there. I am guessing when I went inside and asked my 13-year old to watch her while I spoke to my husband...he sort of didn't, and didn't want to tell me...I don't know. That's the only explanation that makes sense about how this all happened, how she got back up the steps and on our property without a peep, and was playing where I left her, within the time frame...who cares. I am grateful she's OK and no social workers will be knocking on my door . I am not letting her out again...without a leash. This job is hard.

Berylla was fussy because her brothers were running in and out, playing with their friends, and she wanted to go outside too. I usually do not like going out with her these days because I am not very fast (we live on a busy street), and she is. My oldest son said he would watch her and it was about time for Daddy to come home. So I plopped myself out on the front porch and and directed traffic: "Posco," (my 13-year old on Oct. 12) "there goes Berylla getting close to the edge of the parking lot, get her before she gets in the street. Posco, she ran to the other side of the house and I can't see her, please get her...and so it went on" My husband came home and I went in and stood inside by the door for a few minutes to go over the events of the day and told Posco "I'm going in for second, watch her," The usual fun with Berylla is her running around the house and Posco or another brother chasing after her...over and over and over...you get the picture. Toddler amusement.

Before I go any further, I suppose I should describe my house. We live in a largish Victorian house that is divided into four apartments on a street corner. The front of the house has three porches, two in front on either side sort of tucked into the sides of the house for the ground floor apartments (mine is the on on the far right), and one large porch in the middle for the two upstairs apartment entryways. On the right side is a small parking lot for tenants only (and only two of us even have cars) where the kids play. When I went inside, Berylla was there with three siblings and two neighbor kids playing with sidewalk chalk.

At some point the kids, and myself noticed two ladies standing all the way on the other side of the house. They were difficult to see, no, impossible to see unless I walked all the way in front of the house and stood on the side walk and looked at them. I think this is important because if they do not, from their angle, bother to look and see if someone is sitting on my porch, they have no idea if someone is there or not. I had no idea why they were there and thought maybe they were waiting for a neighbor or the landlord because we have two neighbors in the midst of moving. But they just stood there refusing to look up at anyone.

Posco came around chasing Berylla and he stopped to ask me a few questions such as when does school start, what time does he have to get up, etc. etc. Berylla was kind of picking up stones and walking back and forth until she lost interest and started to cross to the other side of the house. As she did that, I noticed a police car pull up to the curb in front of the other side of the house. I thought nothing of it because as this is near a busy intersection, they tend to stop here. Nevertheless, I asked Posco "please go get Berylla before she wanders into the street."

"Whaaaa?" (remember, 13) (Posco can see her from where he is because he keeps looking up at her)

"Berylla! There. Street! Now!"

"Oh, there,"

So Posco wanders in front of the house and gets her. The police officer stops him and asks "do you know this little boy?" To which Posco replies "this is my sister". The police officer follows him over to me and I get up.

"is this your little boy?"

I am baffled because Ian is not quite a "little boy", then I realize he meant Fifi despite the fact she was wearing pink flowered capris, a white gauze peasant top with embroidered flowers, and bobby socks with white Keds sneakers-very androgynous (um, NOT).

"Um, yes that is my daughter,"

"do you realize she just almost went into the street,"

"I didn't realize she got that close to the street yet, but that is why I sent my son to get her and bring her back here,"

"Well, do you have any idea what child endangerment is? Letting children run around by themselves is not safe!"

And me thinking what happened was he just saved her from running into the street I started to cry and said "I asked him to get her. I'm, well you can see I don't move too fast, " (I stop short not wanting to draw attention to my pregnancy and the hwole irresponsible with too many kids thing)... so I asked him...I thought he would get her in time..."

"OK, OK, what's your name..."

So I give him my name, house number, middle name, phone number, DOB, and he goes back to his car (again, on the other side of the front of the house so I can't see him, I just knw he is over there). I assume he is in the car doing that thing officers do when they give out tickets. My husband came out and it didn't occur to me until he stepped out and noticed right away that he was not in his car, but he was talking to the two women. The two women left and the officer came back.

The officer comes back and demands "are you the father?!?" My husband asked what is happening here. The officer said something about Berylla running around unsupervised and almost getting hit by a car. Now I am semi-hysterical and still thinking that when Berylla was in front of the house a few minutes ago, she ran into the street, and that is what all this is about. Later, Posco told me she was just in front of the house, and was baffled why I kept asking him "why didn't you get her out of the street in time?" My husband, who smells something fishy right away demands "who are those two women?" the officer gets steps back and yells "that was the lady that almost hit your child, but stopped and saved your child's life! You should be grateful. You need to lose your attitude now!" And you know what? He puts his friggin' hand on his weapon! I say "Polo, please,"

My husband states "I'm not getting an attitude, but I want to know who they are and what's going on here"

"Well, it sounds like you have an attitude to me, and I don't like it." The best way I can describe it is like the officer's hackles start to raise. Hand still on his weapon.

My husband says "nevermind" and backs away, but I can see steam rising. Thankfully the officer leaves.

It only hit me then that someone called the police on us, as opposed to what I thought, that the officer was simply driving by and wanted to make sure Berylla was supervised.

Immediately, I call Home School Legal Defense. Our lawyer said that most likely we can expect a visit from a social worker tonight (he doubted it and it hasn't happened), or tomorrow, but most likely without a warrant. He said if and when they come, do not allow them to enter or say anything to them. Just give them my lawyer's name and number and they will take care of it. If they do have a warrant, check the warrant, make sure all is in order, and do not allow them to come in until I get my lawyer on the phone..and "don't worry, you can handle this..."

Afterwards we compared stories. When my husband came outside, he was instantly annoyed because he heard one of the ladies tell the officer "and there was absolutely no adult supervision anywhere!" No one, not one of the kids, not I remembers Berylla running into the street. Granted I was inside for a few minutes, but I also listen out. The front street is very busy. If a child is in the street, there would the sound of slamming on brakes and screeching. If they picked her up, why did no one see Berylla with them? Berylla would have screamed bloody murder had a stranger picked her up. And if they picked her up and brought her back, where did they bring her? To the other side of the house to run back into the street? Down the street? If she was all alone, why would they put her back where she was and not have stayed with her? If they put her back within the circle of her running around the house where was that, that we didn't notice?

No, these are people who for what ever reason (I have suspicions I will not state here) wanted to make trouble. So many times either kids of my own (every kid has done it once) has run into the street, or wandered off, and that has been the only truly spankable offense. When I have been on the side of the rescuer, I pick up the kid, knock in the closest door and say "your little one was in the street," The parents are usually grateful and say something about being more astute. Twice I had children who literally escaped out the front door, and I thought they were safe behind a locked door. Same thing, a neighbor rescued them and brought them to me. I was more than grateful. I bought alarms to stick on the door to warn me.

So why they called the police and told them they saw a little 2-year old boy wandering around with no adults, I can only guess at. The reason why I stress the "boy" thing is again, if they were so observant of what was happening, and picked up a child and saved her, how did they not notice the pink flowers and gauze top? But then again, I often notice details like that and people tell me they never see that stuff.

I also think the officer didn't allow us to address them because in the obvious flaws in the story. However, our lawyer said he should not have raised his voice at my husband and reached for his weapon.

Still, we can expect a visit tomorrow and I am not looking forward to it. I desperately need prayers. I have had a really weird week.

but I will hold off because complaining gets me nowhere...