Doing respite this week for two boys, ages 3 and 5. This means I have two three year olds and a five year old. And they are boys. And they never stop eating, or moving.
I have an 11 year old coming this weekend for respite. At least, I planned to.
I’m sick with something that feels like morning sickness with a migraine thrown on top.
My cat brought in a dead squirrel during lunch, sending the three boys into a tailspin.
My husband decimated the end of his toe yesterday by dropping a very heavy chair on it. A chair he built tried to amputate his toe.
My same immobile husband is now sitting at the bedside of his dying father while I hold down the fort here. The loss of his father is going to absolutely devastate my husband.
I think our foster agency is frustrated with me for begin so choosy about placements. The ones they’ve asked about aren’t a good fit for a variety of reasons or circumstances. They said today to “let them know when we are ready to take placements, and they will just put us on hold”. We are ready, just not for the ones that have been presented to us. We certainly don’t want to be put on hold, outside of dealing with a death in the family, that is.
We missed classes tonight- the ones that license us to do respite for the International Foster Care. I am looking forward to working with that program, and rescheduling feels overwhelming today, with so many other things happening.
My hen is hatching out the eggs she’s been sitting on, so that’s a beautiful bright spot in an otherwise sad and heavy day.
I’m going to bed by 8pm. Stinky is folding laundry just so I can have a break. I’m a tired mamma. A tired, blessed, sad mamma.
To close, I’ll share this pic of Miss Jimothy and two of her fluffy, adorable adopted babies. You can’t be sad looking at this.