Friday, September 5, 2014

Fragmented thoughts of a foster mom

Some days are just hard. 
Some days I find it's harder to love her. I don't remember if I felt that wat about Micah. Like it was decades ago that he was a baby or something. 

Some days I honestly question why God led us to this place. Maybe He just made a mistake. He should have chosen somebody else. I don't have enough patience or endurance for this. 

But I know God doesn't make mistakes. 

It's just been one of those days. 

She starts screaming half an hour before her scheduled feeding time. Do I buckle down and feed her, or do I make her wait? And if I feed her early, will she wake up early? I honestly would prefer to sleep past 7:00am tomorrow. 

I'm a speech pathologist. I do feeding therapy with kids 0-3. I should know these things. 
But it doesn't come naturally when they are "your" kids. It just doesn't. 

Maybe it's just the CCMS drama that's causing so much stress in my life. When you get a foster care subsidy and the ENTIRE THING goes to child care, it's harder. At least with our last placement (two boys with fetal alcohol syndrome), I could come to the end of my day and say, "I made $25 for putting up with your crap today." Sorry. Brutal truth there. 

But I shouldn't think about the money. That's not why we started all of this. Maybe I just don't like buying clothes and diapers and doing free babysitting for someone else's kid. Is that outrageous? Maybe I just don't love enough. I don't have enough of Gods spirit in me. Certainly anyone who had God in their heart would never feel that way, right? 

Again with my patience. What was God thinking? I just don't understand. Not that I'm supposed to know everything. If I did, I wouldn't need God in the first place. 

I just need a massage. I need to sit on my rear and not think about anything. Not about cleaning the house. Or laundry. Or the leftover candy Nerds that are probably all over my kitchen floor. I need to do my nails again. Not that there's a point in doing them. I need a housekeeper so I don't have to worry about chipping my nails by doing housework. But I don't want someone else cleaning my house. What if they do it wrong? I love cleaning. It's a good stress reliever. And I obviously have some of that. 

How do stay at home foster moms put up with it all? Are their kids easier? They probably just love them more. I just feel like a babysitter. And I'm ready for the parents to come home so I can leave. What a horrible thing to say. 

Are all ministries this difficult? It's amazing we have any missionaries at all. If telling people in Africa about Jesus is anything like foster care, I'd be horrible at it. Most days I feel like a horrible foster mom. And maybe I am. Certainly a good foster mom wouldn't be so impatient or critical. A good missionary should be happy to do Gods work all the time, not just when it's easy. But that doesn't sound reasonable either. 

It's just hard, and I need a break. I'm ready for baby A to move on. I'd probably miss her if she left though. Any good foster mom should miss the kids when they leave, right? But I don't miss our last placement. At. All. 

It seems like I only feel this way when I'm about to start my period. Stupid hormones. Why should I have a period when I'm not going to have any more kids? I definitely still do NOT want to be pregnant. That wasn't fun. Hormones. It's kinda fun to say that word with a Spanish accent. Like hor-mo-nes! Dork. I need to watch something funny. Laughter is the best medicine. And we all deserve a good laugh once a day, I think. 

So when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. All I have in my fridge is limes though. Limemade, maybe? With lots of sugar. Maybe Splenda. It has fewer calories after all. 😉

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