When Mr. Hall and I started dating, I went to 'adiamondisforeverdotcom', picked out a ring and emailed it to him. We'd been together 3 months. I was making sure, in no uncertain terms, that he knew what I wanted. I wanted him to be my husband and to start a family.
I was a pushy broad.
Now that we've had the little foster kid in our lives for 3 months, I find myself getting ancy. The birth mom ISN'T DOING WHAT SHE NEEDS TO DO. Which is fine. More kid for us. I get greedy about this kid. My love for him grows and grows.
I'm exchanging emails with his social worker too, updating her on our weekends. Telling her about this and that. I need to pull back though. I am starting to get pushy. I'm starting to hint that we want him full time, not just weekends.
She already knows this.
There are implications if he comes to us full time. It means the chances of his mom getting him back grow dimmer. So, with these emails, I've noticed I'm starting to lay groundwork, to appear perfect in case he comes up for adoption. Things are pretty dim for the birth mom right now. But, I need to stop that too. He has a family. Not just the birth mom.
I can't just want this kid and then he's ours. I need to pull back with my needs here. They'll overshadow what I'm doing, which is just being there for him. Being there to tie shoes, make pb+j sanwhiches and haul him out of target because he wants a candy bar and i said no but he wants it and has a big ol snot bubble fit about it.
Seriously, the kid screamed so loud I didn't hear right for half a day.
Accepting things as they come, with no expectations, is something new for me. Like when I had my two kids. I read volumes and volumes of how to be a mom type books. I planned out how I was going to be a mom before I was a mom. But, those guidebooks are bull. They're meant to scare you so you buy their products. Like yon helmet below.
Then I realized something. After the target fun, I spent the entire morning scouring websites, rereading 'how to be a foster mom' books. Again with the parallels. I realized I need to stop reading and just give it up. Crap happens and it will happen again. Also, I can't shop alone with the foster kid. He listens to Mr. Hall a 1000 times better. I can let Mr. Hall take him shopping.
And I'll pretend that Mr. Hall told me BOTH TIMES not to over read, over analyze and over think being a parent/foster parent. God has a plan and I need to turn to Him. That's all I will need.
AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST IN THE PARALLEL DEPARTMENT.
I am about five days out from my due date. Denial is no longer an option. The bassinet is built, the size 'n' diapers are bought and these dang braxton hicks grow stronger every day. I'm scared. Scared like the first trimester before you reach the magical 12 weeks scared. Only this time, denial is not an option. I have to face up to the fact that THIS IS HAPPENING. I have a baby in mah belly who is coming out in less than a week.
I will post his picture on facebook. I will accept visitors and well wishers into my home. I will feel his soft little head in my hands and hold him constantly. The miracle is happening and it's about time I started acting like it.
So, i'll pray. pray and let go and let God and let the joy and love bloosom out of control.
There is this episode of breaking bad, when Jesse Pinkman goes to retrieve money from a meth couple and finds a little kid at the house.
We have a little kid at our house on weekends, the foster kid. Mr. Hall and I bring him every where we go with our kids, like to the park. The park kids say to him, "Can your Dad push us on the spinning thing?" He says, "That's not my Dad. My Dad's in jail." Which, oddly enough, doesn't make me that sad. His dad writes him, calls him and sends his son pictures he drew.
"That's more that I got from my Dad", says Mr. Hall, whose Dad was never in jail, just in California.
That bums me out.
The kid's mom is not in jail. I think about her when I tie her son's shoes, watch him pet our kitty, tuck him in at night and make him pancakes. I think about what she is missing, like I'm stealing her moments.
All she has to do is simple things and she gets the boy back in her life. When I say simple things, I say REALLY SIMPLE THINGS. No heavy lifting required. But she's not. And so we get him on weekends.
He sleeps on the bottom bunk in my son's room. We're going to give him his own two drawers next weekend so he won't have to pack a bag each time he comes.
All of this is driving me a bit crazy. I'm starting to feel less of a babysitter to this kid. I'm starting to love him and put him in line with my kids, love wise. This is dangerous. He's not ours. He has a Mom and Dad. The kid wants to be with his mom. I want him to be with his mom.
So, I pray for her and try to hold back my judgement. I try not to bristle when his grandma comes and drops him off. Her pain fills the room and I feel sucker punched by it. EVERY SINGLE TIME.
So I hold the kid when he lets me. No stopping the love now, it's already out there.
There is a character named Hank on the show. He unexpectedly gets shot and is in the hospital. His wife fights the insurance to pay for his therapy.
Last week we got a call that my Dad is in the hospital. He dumped his motorcycle, broke a collar bone and nine of his ribs on the right side.
It's going to take a long time to heal from this. He's 72 and has the old bastard trifecta of diabetes, high blood pressure and obesity. They are weaning him off the ventilator in the next few days. The co-pay for the insurance is nutz and we are all struggling with this.
This is not the first time we've had hospital calls about my Dad. He's a big bull who is stubborn and not careful. He's broken ribs, nearly cut off his thumb and gotten subdural hematomas all within the last few years.
He's not careful.
Today he was alert enough to make facial expressions and gestures. It was weird and shocking for me. He wants the tube out. I wonder if he'll be a different person after this-the most severe of injuries. I'll love him no matter what though. I've long since forgiven him and have grown actually found of him lately.
Like I said to my mom, "We'll get through this as a family."
Meanwhile, the pregnancy on Breaking Bad produced a little love of a girl. I'm now 37 weeks pregnant and READY TO GO.