it isn't like packing for college

I think when you pack up your kid's room, you should be packing university sweatshirts, not onesies.  Maybe if you're moving your whole house, then you can pack someone's tiny socks along with everything else. But it's weird to pack up someone's entire belongings and have it only be three boxes. 

But that's what happens when everything is small. Small pants. Small PJs with dinosaurs on them. Small dress shirts with only four buttons. 

This is crappy.

I busied myself this evening working on what Children & Youth calls a "Life Book." But I have to be honest, this book only further establishes something that's very, very wrong with "the system." You see, there's only one page for me to fill out. There's a single page, on the front labelled "Pictures Birth to Age 5." Literally, I can take up two-fifths of this page to represent everything his life has meant since we met twenty-six months ago. Ridiculous. I just printed my first batch of pictures for this "Life Book," and Snapfish is now hard at work printing 167 photos of the cutest face you've ever seen.

One single page to represent five years. Five years.

So my family is to be a blip on two-fifths of a page in his "life." That's nice. But it does sum of the way CYS views us. A blip, to be forgotten. His whole life is still ahead of him, I won't argue that, but I do take issue with their view that a child's life starts at school age, that these two years weren't formative, that we are only worth 4 inches on a piece of paper.

His life has meant far more than this already.

Dear caseworkers,

I am a person. I can't talk much yet, but I have feelings. I have desires, dreams, and wishes. I use a sippy cup and wear a diaper, but I am perceptive. I know more than you understand. I react when I'm scared in subtle ways that you don't notice because you only see me two hours a month. I don't understand what's going on around me, but I want to feel safe. Two years may feel fast to you because you're 22, but it is my ENTIRE LIFE. Two years are all I've known.  Please treat me like a person. Please treat me like my life matters. 

Love,

The forgotten babies and toddlers of foster care

yesterday's gone

After court yesterday, I didn't want to go home. Not in a dramatic way, but I wanted to be out in nature and surrounded by people. So first we walked in a park, then we went shopping. My husband had our two youngest in the cart, and something distracted me, so I wandered off.

My littlest didn't, of course, understand that his life had been dramatically altered by a man's word just hours before. He doesn't know that in a few days, he's leaving forever the only home he's ever known in his 29 months of life: 872 days and counting. I guess it's a countdown now. 

As we shopped, he realized he couldn't see me, so he began calling out for me. 

"Mommy!"

"Mommy?"

"Mommy!"

"Mommeeee..."

I offered a fake smile when an older woman poked her head around the corner.

"Is he calling for you?" she asked.

"Don't worry," I said, "He's with his daddy, he isn't lost."

"Well, enjoy this then, because he won't be calling for you for long," she said with a smile and pushed her cart off.

...

I stood there, deeply affected by the simple, everyday advice from a likely grandma, the kind of thing my mom probably says to people harmlessly, and the kind of sentiment others have said to me dozens of times as a young mom.

"They don't stay little forever."

"Enjoy every moment."

"Savor the memories when they're small."

"They grow up so fast."

Her wording was unfortunate, as I know my son will soon, indeed, have another face in his mind when he calls for "mommy."  But at the same time, how could I wish for anything but their greatest success in their new relationship? How could my mothering love for this child not pray for him to have the very best future, including an intimate, caring relationship with his mommy?

I do not wish to be replaced, but I know I will be. God's plan is continuing to unfold before me. I choose to observe it and live in it in faith. The promises are just as real today as they were yesterday morning. 

So I will cherish these last few days, and I'm also reminded of a profound truth I read on the blog "Foster the Family":

Here's to goodbye
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon.

waiting for tomorrow

Photo from usgwarchives.net

I can't handle another emotional adrenaline rush, so I'm just enjoying today. Tomorrow we go to court. Again.

I'm not thinking about tomorrow and yesterday and the irony of Mother's Day and court falling a day apart.

I'm thinking about a giant pile of dirty dishes and who's going to fold all this laundry. I went to the gym and did a normal work-out (as opposed to the angry work-outs where I set personal bests). I went to the grocery store. I need to get gas in the van at some point.

Normal Monday. Actually, better: fun Monday!

Because life is real, and time is moving forward. And tomorrow is coming, whether there's a continuance on "Tuesday, May 16" or not, eventually there will be a day--some day--before the actual decision is made. Because this can't go on forever. This won't go on forever.

Eventually, someone will bang a gavel and my head will be in my hands and I'll swear under my breath and hug my husband, and then we'll know.

But not until then. 

So today, I'm enjoying a happy day of snuggles. I rocked lil' man all the way to sleep before nap, something I haven't take the time to do as often as he's gotten older. I hummed a lot. I did all the mommy things that busy mommies don't get to do enough. I put my nose on his nose and tickled him. I sniffed his ears to make him laugh. I looked through his beautiful, beautiful, beautiful newborn pictures and told him all about how tiny he was two years ago. He pointed and called himself "baby." I wiped banana out of his hair and then yogurt out of his hair and then white powder from cheese puffs out of his hair, and then I told him I was thinking about cutting off his hair, and he giggled, and I laughed because he's the cutest little dude. I changed his diaper twice, and I got him his "nana" which is his blankie, of course. Because I'm his mommy and mommies know that.

And you know what? I haven't cried. Because I'm his mommy today, and he's my son right now. 

Redbox Recap

Hubby and I don't get to the movies a lot, except when there's something with "star" in the title. Then, we make the effort to get a babysitter. Other than that, we are big streamers and occasional Redboxers. This week, we sort of Redbox binged. Is that a thing? Because we did it.

Passengers

Yes. Yes. This movie was excellent. Too much sexy business for being comfortable, but that would be my only complaint. Great acting from two of my favorite Hollywooders. I thought this movie far excelled its trailer which made it look a little boiler-plate-space-accident to me. The story was more complex than I expected, considering I watch, um, a LOT of science fiction.

50 points each awarded to Parks 'n' Rec and the Hunger Games franchise.

Assassin's Creed

No, snooze. I'm not a gamer, but I really enjoyed the parts of this game that I watched my husband play. And, you need to understand, I'm not a good wife who watches my husband play video games. So, for me to say that I watched a game means it was cool. I also love Michael Fassbender, so I was really disappointed. They made the Animus some sort of Doc-Oc-inspired wild arm contraption instead of, um, a chair? Also, I do understand that the crusades were an AWFUL, AWFUL thing, but I sensed the producers jumped on the opportunity to show Christians as murderous wretches with too much glee.

3 points awarded to XBOX Widows Anonymous.

La La Land

LOVED IT. Channeled White Christmas, South Pacific, Music Man, all of the old R&H musicals I loved growing up and still love. So. Good. Ryan Gosling is so adorably perfect and awkward and laughing while he's dancing. They just seem to be enjoying themselves!  I can see why some people didn't like the ending, but I loved it. LOVED IT. Also, don't think the That Thing You Do reference eluded me! Just really couldn't have been better. Emma Stone deserves her awards. There were SO MANY scenes where she didn't even speak and her face just told the story. I mean, that is talent.

75 points awarded to tap shoes and upside down canoes.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

This was tons of fun! Not wonderful, but very enjoyable to watch. My favorite character was Queenie (hysterical), and my favorite actor was Eddie Redmayne as the lead. I love awkward, and he just charmed it! The beasts were fun, but I felt like there wasn't quite enough substance to the story. I did like the ending surprise, BUT, unfortunately, that surprise also made the entire thing feel like the opening scene of a better movie. I don't like watching a first-in-a-series that feels like a first-in-a-series: a two-hour setup for something else. I'd rather watch a really great stand-alone movie and think, "I hope they make a sequel!"

35 points awarded to "why is the rum gone?"

beta readers: how to teach your fish to read

Spoiler: This post does not include directions to teach a fish to read. But that would be SOOOO awesome. Does anyone do that?!

Beta readers. What are they? They are the pre-readers who look at manuscripts before they turn into books. Non-professionals. So, me.  I've been a beta reader for one friend on two manuscripts, and I'm just starting a new manuscript for someone else.

So, where do the fish come in?

The fish, of course, is spelled with two t's: Betta. A good proofreader might have caught that, but maybe not a pre-reader. We aren't professionals, and our job isn't to correct grammar and spelling. (Although I still do, because I'm a control freak.) We are supposed to make suggestions that improve the story, enhance the setting, or ask questions to expose plot holes.

I was so lucky to have a bunch of beta readers for The Senator's Youngest Daughter. I'm sort of considering everyone who reads it to be a beta reader, in fact, since it was my first novel-length work.

Being invited into someone's newly minted story is so exciting! The writer is full of comments like "it isn't perfect yet" and looking terrified when they hand it to you. Meanwhile, as the reader, I have that gleeful "Mommy, can I have that candy?" look in my eye because I'm so excited! This person is trusting me with a special part of themselves -- their brain-child, the product of all their creativity, the sum of effort over months/years.

My kitchen is under reno right now (YAY!), and everything is unpolished. You can see the whole thing starting to come together, but the counter's not on and the floor is all covered up, and the cabinets have no handles... you can imagine what it will be but it isn't all there yet.

I think that's why I like being a beta reader. Even if there's a gap instead of a dishwasher, I can mentally put the dishwasher in its place. Even if there's some questions left unanswered, I can still enjoy the story. I'll probably make an incoherent note at the end like this: Wj did she lev the bus at time fur? and the author will have to Facebook message me at 12:06 am (because that's when we write) and ask me to translate. 

And I'll be like, I don't know, but ask your fish. He can always read my handwriting.

Worth it

So much anticipation over nothing. So much tossing and turning and not sleeping. So much time spent waiting in an uncomfortable chair!

Another continuance. Another moment where the local courts laugh in the face of the federally mandated 15-month period for permanency for children in "the system." As we enter month 28, do you think anyone feels bad? Does anyone with authority think, "Hey, maybe they wrote that law because there's good research that shows this kind of nonsense dramatically affects a child's long-term mental health." 

And yet, we persevere.

What keeps me going is the firm, unwavering, unshakable truth that God already knew this was coming. I have to confess, I wasn't immediately pleasant when I was told to go home without even entering the courtroom. Without anyone even cracking open his case file. Without anyone even saying his name. Just, "We overbooked. Go home. We'll call you to reschedule."

No "I'm sorry."

No "This is unfortunate."

Just "This happens."

Why don't they just say the rest of the sentence? "This happens because we don't consider this case a priority." Or worse yet, "This happens because we don't consider this child a priority." 

"The system" is so ugly. But I choose to believe that there are still glimmers of hope. There are still people who care. Not all of them -- I'm not going to pretend that some of the people aren't wildly inexperienced newbies regurgitating liberal nonsense from their newly minted Masters degree or that others aren't jaded old toads -- I think some are. But there are a few gems who are doing this for the right reason. 

Guys, this kid is precious. Unbelievably worth it.  Overwhelmingly valuable.  As many times as I have questioned being part of a system I believe to be devastatingly broken, I have never questioned my commitment to him. I love him so dearly. He is beloved, cherished, treasured.

And today, tonight, tomorrow, he is safe. 

I rest in God's neverending faithfulness to him and to me.

I have thought so many times these late days how when God called my husband and I to be foster parents, that meant he was calling all of you to our journey as well. You became grandma, aunt, friend, prayer warrior, weekly nursery hugger to this child -- without having asked for it. I am so grateful, grateful beyond words, for your selfless willingness to fill this role. Not one of you has complained to me of the difficult road we've chosen for you to walk. Thank you for loving our little guy with us. You have abundantly enriched his life. Whatever God's plan for his future, you have been a wonderful part of his story.