Progress, maybe?

We had our second post-placement visit with our social worker last week. In an effort to keep it real, I thought I'd make sure see saw us how we really are. Jude hadn't eaten anything but pistachios all day, so was starving and ate lunch through most of the visit; the house was adrift in dog hair, as Abby suddenly decided to blow her coat this week; and I hadn't had a shower in two days. Who's got time?!  But our social worker took it all in stride, it seems.
I actually like these visits with our social worker. She asks questions whose purpose is to gage how things are going, and they inevitably make me evaluate criteria I hadn't really been thinking about.  Case in point: Jude is a friendly, gregarious guy, whose never met a stranger, as long no one is rudely gaping at his legs. Then he ignores them. But once they get over it, and look at HIM, he immediately glosses over the awkwardness and is more than willing to make friends. That being said, Jude is also a pretty cool customer. He plays the odds and he's a charmer. When he's angry, up to this point, he just turns his nose up and says, "hunh!" in this snotty way. But no explosions, no tantrums, no tears. He has cried a few times, since we met him: the first night we got him, the third night we had him, when Owen and I left Jim and Jude in China, and the first night I went back to work. He keeps the deep stuff to himself. So, our social worker pointed out that she thinks the next big milestone, the place we should hope we get to, will be Jude losing his cool. Read pitch-a-fit, cry-like-a-baby, or any other expression you care to think of to describe a loss of control. I think it's fair to say that I am afraid of that moment. It will obviously be an important momentum, from a bonding perspective, and the potential to screw it up is huge.
Along the vein of change, I am sometimes called "Mommy" now.....not sure where that came from, but I prefer it to Maw. :) 

And lastly, I had to ask myself if I was living in an alternate universe today. I was sweeping the back stoop, and Owen asked, "Mom, can I clean the toilets?"  ???????????!!!!!!! Have no idea what field that thought came flying out of! Well, sure, I said, to which Jude piped up and said, "Me, too!" If this was an hallucination, don't wake me up.