Part 3: My Kid’s Best Friend is a Psychic

I think it’s safe to say that psychic kid has been dealt a shitty deck of tarot cards.

But she’s at my house for two days, out her mother’s (and her mother’s boyfriend's) reach. With that, I was determined to use the next 48 hours to turn my house into freaking Disneyland. Where’s Mickey!

We made cookies. We Wii danced. We watched movies. We went to the movies.

I even cooked. Yes, I cooked!  (Now slowly grab your jaw with both hands and pick it up off the floor. Thank you…)

While setting the table and scolding my kid for acting up (they get brave around friends), out of nowhere, psychic kid says…

“I wish you were my mom.”

I was speechless.

“My mom has been messed up for a long time.”

I had already reached that conclusion.

The pain in my chest was back… My mommy heart hurts… And the lump in my throat is the size of a grapefruit.

This kid may very well be psychic, because as I start formulating new questions in my head she opens up like a book, starting with Day One.   

Grandma made arrangements while psychic kid was still in the womb. The kid was taken away from her mother the day she was born. The grandmother is listed as the mother on her birth certificate. She’s had custody of psychic kid ever since.

After mom gave birth to her, she had psychic kid’s brother a couple of years later. Their dad is M.I.A. Mom had a few more kids with other men. Grandma has custody of ALL of them.

For most of psychic kid’s short life, the mother has had weekend visitation. Until mom’s boyfriend did a most despicable thing. As you may recall, mom chose the boyfriend and her visitation was revoked.

At this point, I’m googling adoption attorneys. What would it take to adopt this kid? How do I approach the subject with Grandma?

I’m evaluating my budget. Could I afford to feed another kid? How much would it cost to furnish the spare bedroom?

Again, reality sinks in.

Psychic kid’s eyes light up when she talks about her grandmother and her siblings and whatever other relatives are living in that teeny, tiny house. 

“Teeny, tiny house” is no exaggeration. Let me put this way, the Big Bad Wolf could certainly blow this house down.

By the end of day two, I can tell she’s anxious to get back home. Grandma is calling more often to check up on her, sharing stories of what’s been going on with her many siblings while she’s been away.  I can hear grandma laughing on the phone and this makes psychic kid happy.

She’s laughing, she’s smiling. She keeps checking the time.

“What time did you say you were taking me home, Miss M?”

She’s asked this question a dozen times in less than an hour.

There’s a family get together (sans the mom) at the Teeny, Tiny House tomorrow and she wants to help get things ready.

You see, despite her circumstances, despite the shitty deck of tarot cards that she’s been dealt, despite her shitty mom, this kid loves her family and they love her, too. Especially Grandma!

I know Grandma is doing the best she can with what’s she’s got. And knowing this warms my heart.

As I drive up to the Teeny, Tiny House, the kids – and there’s a lot of them – start rushing out of the house to greet psychic kid. Grandma is standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, wearing an apron and a huge smile.

Psychic kid jumps out of my car and into their arms. Grandma, still standing in the doorway, has her arms stretched out with a “Come here and get some sugar!” look on her face.

Psychic kid is so excited she forgets her things in the car. My daughter and I take them to the front steps. By this time, psychic kid is out of sight so we head back to the car.

As I open my car door, I feel someone grab me from behind. It’s psychic kid and she’s hugging me.

“Thank you for letting me come over, Miss M. My grandma says thank you, too.”

I look back at Grandma. She’s nodding her head, as if she’s reaffirming what psychic kid is telling me.

I waved good-bye and headed home with one kid, occasionally daydreaming of what it would be like to make psychic kid a part of our family.

* * * * * * * * * *  

It’s been a month since psychic kid spent those two days at my house. The following week I found myself frequently asking my daughter about her. By frequently, I mean every day when I picked her up from school. And by every day I mean several times a day.

But my daughter understood why I was asking. She had overheard enough to put the pieces together.

I used this experience to talk to my daughter about inappropriate touching. I reinforced the things I’ve said over the years about boundaries and her body.

It was received with a lot of rolling of the eyes and a “Here she goes again” attitude. So I grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her the look. Something must have hit home, because then she said this…

“I’m glad you’re my mom.”

My mommy heart is smiling…

I can neither confirm nor deny whether psychic kid is really psychic. What I can confirm is that there’s now a special place in my mommy heart for for this little girl.