Dear God I'm tired. Weary. In body and soul.
Stress at work. And not the expected kind of stress I know how to cope with. This is the petty colleague, asinine administrator kind of stress that makes us wonder why we even bother. I stood at my kitchen sink drinking my coffee this morning and got a migraine just thinking about my day.
Then, after work, had to rush home for a meeting with our licensing social worker. It's been six months since we were first licensed and this was the first renewal. Really important stuff like writing out our fire escape plan...again. Because it might have changed in six months? Still the same house, actually. Haven't removed any exits.
Also needed copies of all our monthly bills and proof of our income. Even though we haven't had a change in employment or purchased our dream vacation home. Not getting that rich off the foster system yet. Same old numbers you saw six months ago.
Why don't forms start with the assumption that we are reasonable people. How about a checklist and flowchart. How about asking, "Change in employment? If yes, provide X. If no, skip this."
Licensing social worker was here for about an hour. I've never been too picky of a housekeeper or too ultra private. The first time he came through it felt weird to have a stranger measuring my bedroom and looking for the smoke alarms but, after all, it was what we signed up for. I really wasn't that bothered.
This time as he just glanced around it felt weirder. Do you really need to see that our bedroom looks the same? Are you looking for evidence that we're started a meth lab in the bathroom? Running a little human trafficking ring out of our closet? Because if we were doing that, don't you think we'd tidy up a bit before your visit?
Sometimes it feels like I'm running a list in my head: Reasons Why People Don't Do Foster Care in the First Place or Get Out of It Quickly.
1. Guy looking around my bedroom.
2. Having my biological children taken one by one into their bedrooms and quizzed by licensing worker (How do your parents discipline you? How do they discipline the girls?)
3. Watching guy take my foster girls into their bedroom, shut the door, and then hear him asking if we spank them. Eavesdropping, horrified, on the other side. Because I could convince this 3 year old girl that her best friend was a blue dinosaur from the planet Mars in about two seconds. Does she even know what the word "spank" means? I heard her say, 'no' but I heard the doubt in her voice. She wasn't sure what to say. I kinda hated him at that moment--putting that thought, and fear, in her mind. He also asked her how she likes foster care. How she LIKES foster care? Are you a blooming idiot? I'm guessing she doesn't LIKE it one bit. I'm also certain she has absolutely no freaking idea what foster care is, since we've never used that term. But go ahead. Ask your mandated questions and fill out your form. That's what matters.
Dear God I am weary.
Tomorrow is our second visit with grandma, aunt, uncle and whomever else they wish to bring. Probably some cousins. It's our first visit out of the agency offices and out in public. No social worker to moderate. I'm suddenly having nightmares about someone snatching the girls and running. This is the first visit since aunt/uncle backed out of taking placement of the girls. Are they going to be hyper emotional? Regretting their decision when they see the girls?
Also, Jane has been a mess these last few days. I made a special calendar to show her how many days till the visit and she has just fallen apart since I started talking about it. Whiny, clingy, picking fights, potty accidents. All that stuff that, when you read it, sounds like typical toddler behavior and no big deal, but when you're living it 24/7 wears on you like water torture.
Because it's hard to parent into the unknown. I know what to do when James, my third bio son, has the usual toddler meltdown. I know exactly when to be firm and when to comfort. I parent him without second thoughts. But these girls...I am having second and third and fourth thoughts all day, and night, long.
Dear God, I am weary. Hear my prayer.
This weekend we also need to buy a new vehicle because we've limped along driving two cars everywhere but now that we know we're having the girls long-term it's time to get a minivan big enough to haul us all. I get to test drive on icy roads from the latest nasty winter storm. Nice.
Then we all need to pack for a five day vacation only our eldest two kids know about. Not going to tell the girls till after the family visit because I don't want it to come up that we're leaving the girls with my mom.
Jane is going to be a mess when I tell her we're leaving but she and Kate are staying. She's still surprised when I come home from work each day. She will be utterly convinced that we've gone forever and left her with yet another new person.
I am absolutely positive that we'll still be digging out from the aftermath of this vacation several weeks from now, if not months. If our three boys didn't desperately need family time I'd be rethinking even doing it. The new normal is that I cannot, ever, make everyone happy at the same moment. Oh well. Life sucks. Maybe I'll care more when I'm not so weary.
Stress at work. And not the expected kind of stress I know how to cope with. This is the petty colleague, asinine administrator kind of stress that makes us wonder why we even bother. I stood at my kitchen sink drinking my coffee this morning and got a migraine just thinking about my day.
Then, after work, had to rush home for a meeting with our licensing social worker. It's been six months since we were first licensed and this was the first renewal. Really important stuff like writing out our fire escape plan...again. Because it might have changed in six months? Still the same house, actually. Haven't removed any exits.
Also needed copies of all our monthly bills and proof of our income. Even though we haven't had a change in employment or purchased our dream vacation home. Not getting that rich off the foster system yet. Same old numbers you saw six months ago.
Why don't forms start with the assumption that we are reasonable people. How about a checklist and flowchart. How about asking, "Change in employment? If yes, provide X. If no, skip this."
Licensing social worker was here for about an hour. I've never been too picky of a housekeeper or too ultra private. The first time he came through it felt weird to have a stranger measuring my bedroom and looking for the smoke alarms but, after all, it was what we signed up for. I really wasn't that bothered.
This time as he just glanced around it felt weirder. Do you really need to see that our bedroom looks the same? Are you looking for evidence that we're started a meth lab in the bathroom? Running a little human trafficking ring out of our closet? Because if we were doing that, don't you think we'd tidy up a bit before your visit?
Sometimes it feels like I'm running a list in my head: Reasons Why People Don't Do Foster Care in the First Place or Get Out of It Quickly.
1. Guy looking around my bedroom.
2. Having my biological children taken one by one into their bedrooms and quizzed by licensing worker (How do your parents discipline you? How do they discipline the girls?)
3. Watching guy take my foster girls into their bedroom, shut the door, and then hear him asking if we spank them. Eavesdropping, horrified, on the other side. Because I could convince this 3 year old girl that her best friend was a blue dinosaur from the planet Mars in about two seconds. Does she even know what the word "spank" means? I heard her say, 'no' but I heard the doubt in her voice. She wasn't sure what to say. I kinda hated him at that moment--putting that thought, and fear, in her mind. He also asked her how she likes foster care. How she LIKES foster care? Are you a blooming idiot? I'm guessing she doesn't LIKE it one bit. I'm also certain she has absolutely no freaking idea what foster care is, since we've never used that term. But go ahead. Ask your mandated questions and fill out your form. That's what matters.
Dear God I am weary.
Tomorrow is our second visit with grandma, aunt, uncle and whomever else they wish to bring. Probably some cousins. It's our first visit out of the agency offices and out in public. No social worker to moderate. I'm suddenly having nightmares about someone snatching the girls and running. This is the first visit since aunt/uncle backed out of taking placement of the girls. Are they going to be hyper emotional? Regretting their decision when they see the girls?
Also, Jane has been a mess these last few days. I made a special calendar to show her how many days till the visit and she has just fallen apart since I started talking about it. Whiny, clingy, picking fights, potty accidents. All that stuff that, when you read it, sounds like typical toddler behavior and no big deal, but when you're living it 24/7 wears on you like water torture.
Because it's hard to parent into the unknown. I know what to do when James, my third bio son, has the usual toddler meltdown. I know exactly when to be firm and when to comfort. I parent him without second thoughts. But these girls...I am having second and third and fourth thoughts all day, and night, long.
Dear God, I am weary. Hear my prayer.
This weekend we also need to buy a new vehicle because we've limped along driving two cars everywhere but now that we know we're having the girls long-term it's time to get a minivan big enough to haul us all. I get to test drive on icy roads from the latest nasty winter storm. Nice.
Then we all need to pack for a five day vacation only our eldest two kids know about. Not going to tell the girls till after the family visit because I don't want it to come up that we're leaving the girls with my mom.
Jane is going to be a mess when I tell her we're leaving but she and Kate are staying. She's still surprised when I come home from work each day. She will be utterly convinced that we've gone forever and left her with yet another new person.
I am absolutely positive that we'll still be digging out from the aftermath of this vacation several weeks from now, if not months. If our three boys didn't desperately need family time I'd be rethinking even doing it. The new normal is that I cannot, ever, make everyone happy at the same moment. Oh well. Life sucks. Maybe I'll care more when I'm not so weary.
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