Two years ago we lost a comfortable life in Seattle. We lost stable jobs, mountains, water, and, lets be honest, the joy of living in the best city in the US. We went to China and lost the hope that a life overseas was fun and exciting. We returned to the midwest where things are brown and flat, but cheap. We lost our first baby in November to a miscarriage and bought our first house in March. A week later we found out, after a year of applications and classes and interviews, that we were officially licensed foster parents. In that same call we were asked to take twin 2 1/2 year old girls. The lady hung up the phone and told us to talk about it, but that we only had a half an hour to let her know our decision. I told Joel to call her back and tell her that we moved (our new house had yet to be inspected) fully thinking she would just say it wasn't possible and we could move on with our lives without feeling guilty for saying "no, are you crazy. we're not ready for 2 kids." Within 5 minutes Joel called me back to say, "We're taking 2 kids. Tonight."
On that day, these 2 little girls lost their grandma. The woman who had been taking care of them for the past year, ever since their mom got sent to jail. She had one too many referrals and no place to live; the kids had to be taken away. They lost their security and their 10 year old brother who had to be placed in another foster home. They lost chaos, but they also lost what was normal and familiar to them, even if it was living in a shelter, or a car, or a hotel room, or being around drugs. Now, we deal with behaviors caused by lack of parenting and behaviors caused by 2 years of instability. We deal with tantrums full of rage that could beat out any emotionally disturbed teenager. We also see them roll joints with notebook paper and smoke the strings on our sweatshirts.
On that day, I lost my control. I wanted to un-pack our house and paint and organize. I had just finished my job and I wanted more time for myself. We had a trip planned to go see my Aunt in Maine. I lost alone time with Joel; in a matter of an hour we had to adjust to the idea of being parents. No "baby moon" no 9 months of room preparation or reading up on all the best parenting methods. Now, before bed, our conversations revolve around how to deal with an incredibly defiant 2 year old and nap times....and I am buying shoes that light up. I swore I would never have a kid with shoes that light up.
The days are long with these girls. I spend a majority of my time putting one of them in time out and the rest of my day trying to keep them from falling asleep on the couch or the car in an attempt to get them to nap in their room. When they are in their room, I spend my time going crazy as I listen to screaming louder than I can turn the volume of my music up. I don't know what to do with their hair and I am afraid every black person I see judges my capability to raise these girls (as they should, really).
I am trying to enjoy the good days and the time when D (name shortened because I probably shouldn't be telling the world about someone else's kids) reaches over to me at snack time with her arms wide open saying "Mommy! I love it, popcorn!"
