Three Weeks

It’s been three weeks since Lovebug came to live with me.

Three weeks of figuring out this side of the foster system.

Three weeks of navigating life with an almost-two-year-old.

Three weeks of being a mom.

Here are just a few of the things I am learning on this incredible journey.

Foster care is all about community.  Donations from the Foster Closet.  Encouragement from friends.  Offers to bring dinner.  Late night Walmart runs by my mom.  Advice from foster parents who have been doing this a lot longer than me.  There’s no way I could do this without community.

There are things that should be standard procedure.  Things that the state should know how to handle.  Things that should be an easy checklist.  Wellllllll, standard procedure might exist, but no one knows what it is.  You will have to handle pretty much everything.  There is no checklist.  Good luck.

Mom life is exhausting.  If I’m not running around after Lovebug, I’m carrying her on my hip.  If we’re not at the grocery store, we’re at the park.  And just when I think she’s going to sit down and watch TV with me, she decides she wants to go upstairs.  In short, this mama is TIRED.

Laundry rooms were invented for sneaking away to eat chocolate without your kids noticing.

Mom life is not about learning to do things one-handed.  It’s about learning to do things half-handed, because in addition to carrying your baby everywhere, you also have to carry her sippy cup, her teddy bear, and anything else she wants nearby but refuses to hold.

Doorways are a lot smaller when trying to fit two humans through them, especially when one of those humans insists on leaning back while being carried.

Leaving work on time everyday feels impossible.  Do it anyway.

Meeting your foster daughter’s parent is ten kinds of awkward.  And ten kinds of worth it.

I didn’t know it was humanly possible to need to mop this much.

“Is this age-appropriate behavior, or trauma-based behavior?” is a never-ending question.

In foster care training, there are an awful lot of “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it” moments.  Welcome to the land of many bridges.

The case worker’s first home visit is NOT a good time for your toddler to start projectile vomiting.  This is also NOT a good time for the bathtub to be broken.

Laughter, peek-a-boo, and peanut butter kisses are the best medicine for a mother’s heart.