When it is time to leave our house to make the hour-long trek to Hickville to drop the kids off at the police station and return to their used-up womb-for-rent of a “mother”, it causes an instant change in the kids. Sunflower’s face falls, and she immediately starts to cry. Bear deflates, sometimes cries, sometimes simply withdraws. Wolverine becomes quiet and angry. Dove, as the youngest, used to look at her siblings, somewhat confused, but last weekend, she curled up in my lap, hid her face, and cried.
More than once, one of the kids has said, “I’m not ready to go back” or “I don’t want to go.” More than once, Gary has had to put on a brave face, joke with the kids, cheer them up, help them laugh again. More than once, the children’s wishes and what they truly want have been pissed on and brushed off by lawyers, judges, and especially their own mother.
Last weekend seemed especially difficult for all of them. It’s hard not to read into it and wonder exactly what is going on in their other household that the idea of returning to it brings them to tears.
It occured to me that Gary is essentially court-ordered to return his children to their abuser every two weeks. He is court-ordered to leave them in the hands of someone who has proven, time and time again, that she will never care about them or place their needs above her own, and that she has no capabilities or desires to be a parent.
How and why can anyone justify a court system that orders innocent children to rely upon someone with the mothering skills of a hissing cockroach?
*Photo courtesy of OurFamily2Yours.com*