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...

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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.