"If you love me every day, my heart won't break."

The baby went "home" to family last week.  My heart was nothing but relieved. I knew that the family was happy to get her, and excited. I knew that things would ease up at my house once she was gone. I feel so guilty for feeling this way, but there was nothing else to feel except relief.

And things HAVE gotten better. During that first week Steve was working so much and I was trying so hard to get things done all the time that I made myself sick. To my credit, i WAS premenstrual, so my immune system was a little off as it is every pms cycle.  Nevertheless, i ended up nearly fainting and puking my way through Wednesday, and then contracting a real nice sinus infection for the weekend.

But what's a little sinus infection (and newly discovered iron deficiency) when you're in DISNEY WORLD?! That's right, i took him to Disney World last weekend.  I had to, my annual pass was running out!  I have never seen so much joy in a child all at once.  Sometimes he would just laugh out of happiness for being there. It was so much fun.

He has started singing this song, "I love you soooo much! I love you sooooo much!" It happens every few hours. Pleasant little kiddo.

I'm a little frustrated with DSS right now. I still don't have any idea of his medical records, and need to set him up with a pediatrician.  No idea if he has had his 4 year old shots or anything.  His particular case worker knows nothing, every time I call.  It isn't that she doesn't know the answer to things, it's that she doesn't know ANY protocol. She doesn't know who to contact for things, she follows through on nothing, and she doesn't know simple things like the fact that foster children are eligible for WIC, or that I can take them to any doctor I want.

Slowly, C has been talking more and more about his mom and his home life.  I am glad that we can talk about his feelings, but wish he didn't know how to speak, because these things are so sad. Last night is when he said to me, "If you love me every day, my heart won't break."

Foster CARE

I'm in the business of foster CARE. the children that I tuck into bed at night and snuggle while watching Dinosaur Train are in need of my (and my husband's) constant, delicate care.  Unfortunately, in the chaos of  Week 1,  someone in this house is not getting taken care of: me.

I frequently regard myself as superwoman, or at best, Scarlett O'Hara.  I'm not taking about pre-Civil War Scarlett.  I'm not talking about "fiddle-dee-dee" Scarlett.  I'm talking about "I slapped my Butterfly Queen, Melanie is dying, Pa died, Rhett's a jerk, I'm making my clothes from draperies and pulling carrots out of the ground" Scarlett O'Hara.  I am sad to say that right now I feel more like Scarlett amidst all the death and dying at the "hospital" - overwhelmed, "why won't a doctor just help me?!" and just wanting a carriage to get out of dodge.

This is my own darn fault.  I haven't been eating or hydrating properly, and I'm fully aware of the germs that little ones can carry, especially when they are in daycare two days a week.  It didn't help so much that my other half has been picking up tons of extra shifts at work (they aren't optional) and has been unavailable for the better part of the day/evening.

Let's get real here, people.

Preconceived notion of foster care: sweet snuggle bunny to care for that goes to bed by 8pm.
Reality: two kids (not our age range!!) on two totally different schedules and absolutely NO way to get in touch with case workers. I mean is she going home today or not? It's 9am, lady. I'm in class. Kinda need to know this stuff.

Preconceived notion: I can get the 4 year old to rock some natural African American hair. I've got oils and Shea butter. I've seen the target ads with the cute kids in PJs embracing their natural hair without tight braids or rows.
Reality: EVERYONE thinks he's a girl. And I think I understand what nappy means now. And I feel really bad about it.

Preconceived notion: last night was bath time.
Reality: too much toilet paper in the baby's bathroom means ACTUAL poop flowing onto the floor. Dirty babies again.


Enough with the negativity

Truth of the matter is that last night I put the kids to bed two full hours before regular bedtime because I was nearly fainting and throwing up.  And I can't let that happen again. Where is the balance?  I love my waking moments with them: park time, dinner time, aquarium time, ESPECIALLY singing in the car time. And they need someone who loves that time with them. And those people are me and Steve.


The snuggles make it worth it. Worth every second.  Don't get me wrong. This is a truly joyful experience. During a particularity foggy day a few afternoons ago C asked me "why did God decide to come down today?"

Those are the moments that matter. I've just got to learn to take care of myself in the process.

The Moms Club

I have never been part of The Moms Club.  I have seen them out and about, doing their thing: at the grocery store lugging kids around, at the...

***edit***

I began this post Tuesday evening.  I was on the phone with my dear friend as she described how she and I would never be part of "The Moms Club."  We both struggle with infertility, although we are both forging through with hope.  I started this post listening to her describe The Moms Club and wrote about what I thought The Moms Club was: playdates, ice cream, grocery shopping, story-telling.  There was a status involved: I'm in. I'm in The Club.

Here is a secret: the only status involved is the moment when you have to scream "I'M IN THE BATHROOM!" a mere 30 seconds after you announced you were going into the bathroom to the 4 year old.  It is in the moment when you realize your husband ate all the bananas (overnight?) and you have no snacks to pack in the diaper bag.  It is in the moment when you feel guilty for picking up Wendy's for the second time in 4 days.

The Moms Club, for me, is embodied in The Foster Mom Club.  This club is a little different.  Although I imagine all mommies struggle with "do we let her cry for one more minute?" and "HE RAN INTO THE STREET AGAIN," I assume that The Foster Mom Club comes with a bit more of these moments: "who is this child? When will I feel like I'm not babysitting? Why do I feel like I am bonding with the boy, but not the sweet little 8 month old?"

The Foster Moms Club looks like this:

Day 1: wake up and you're not a mom. By 8pm you are a mother of two. Congrats, and enjoy the smack in the face

Day 2: have I fed her yet? Wait, I don't know their last names. Oh, yes I do. Have they pooped yet?

Day 3: SHIT, school started this week. SHIT, my husband is working 12 hour shifts for the next 12 days. SHIT, I forgot her name again. But she smells so good after a bath.

Day 4: oh, she's leaving to go with family next week. Extra hugs at bedtime. SHIT, I STILL DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WHEN SHE CRIES.

Day 5: how did I end up with a near-5 year old? But he is so sweet. HOW DARE THAT SOCIAL WORKER ASK IF I WANTED TO CONTINUE TO FOSTER HIM. OF COURSE I DO! But wait, that wasn't my life plan... Wendy's for dinner again. All I want to do is hug the baby until she leaves, but all she wants to do is cry. WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?



... I will let you know how Day 6 goes once I have come up to the surface for air.

Last One Standing

"Your mother's gone"
She said over the phone
and fear ran through me like lightning
my chest tightened
my chest loosened

And I began again
trying, reaching

"Your aunt's in the hospital"
She said over the phone
and power ran through me like lightning
my family tightened
her children became like mine

And I began again
teaching, loving

"We lost Her"
He said over the phone
and shock ran through me like lightning
my breath tightened
and I was sick

And I couldn't begin again
broken, beaten
alone.

But I am my mother, a teacher in my heart
and I am my Aunt, loving her children
and I will be my last Aunt, a steel magnolia
Holding my family together,
The Last One Standing.