who i am and where i am right now

i’m the one with the dried similac on my sleeve.  or shoulder.  or right in the middle of my chest.  at preschool ‘meet the teachers’ night.  yeah, with my cute forgotten initiative t-shirt on.  dried similac stain right in the middle of my chest.  yeah.

and the can of coke in my hand.  already opened.  cause i don’t make it to my van without opening it.  and because i don’t leave home without it.  this may or may not be an issue.  we’ll see.

i’m the one who completely drives right through the stop sign one block away from my house and has the police follow me into my driveway.  yep.  and it freaked out my foster kids.  this will be another post.  soon, i hope.

i’m the one at target several times a week.  sometimes several times a day because there’s always something i leave off my list.  and there’s always something i forget to grab, even though it’s on my list.  and my list is in my hand.  and i’ve checked cartwheel and found another discount.  i still forget.

i’m the one who can’t see straight, even with my glasses on, because i’m so tired.  a baby makes people very tired.  and do you know what people do after they have a baby and get it to sleep through the night?   they have another baby.  i don’t get it people.  i really don’t.

i’m the one surrounded by laundry.  literally.  i step on a clean pile of it almost every time i get out of bed.  it’s on my floor.  it’s on my dining room table.  it’s on the lego table in the basement.  it’s piled in front of my closet.  it’s piled inside of my closest.  and yes, that’s still the clean laundry.  right now there is a load of laundry in the washer and two more on my bedroom floor.

i’m the one surrounded by bags and boxes and piles of clothes people have shared with us.  we’ve been abundantly gifted this way, i just don’t have time to organize it all.  the baby came to us still wearing some newborn clothes.  then he quickly moved into 0-3 months.  now he’s in 3-6 months and he’s still got a week before he turns 3 months old.  if only i had a few extra minutes to sort and contain what doesn’t fit him anymore.

i’m the one who wore the same thing today that i wore yesterday.  when i have a toddler on my hip and an infant in my arms most hours of the day, i tend to grab whatever clothing is easiest to grab.  that tends to be what i changed out of when i went to bed the night before.

i’m the one who has papers everywhere.  in piles. massive piles.  and i move the piles around to make things look clean and organized.  but i really need to clean and i really need to organize.

i’m the one who has four little kiddos that i am pouring myself into and i don’t know if they are staying or going.

i’m the one in the middle of birth family visits.  and counseling appointments.  and court hearings.  court hearings about case plans and progress and time extensions.court hearings about placement options.  um, hey, attorneys, guardians, social workers, agencies-this placement right here with me seems pretty good.

i’m the one who is realizing more and more that abuse and neglect do things that can’t be reversed.  and it sucks.

i’m the one with the african american child running away from me at the park.  and in my living room.  and in my backyard.  cause it’s funny to see how many buttons we can push.  and to see if foster mom will react in the same negative ways most of the adults in her world acted when she was with them.

i’m the one getting spit on and hit and nearly kicked.  i can dodge the legs pretty well.

i’m the one getting laughed at because i am trying to teach right from wrong.  speaking when spoken to.  using yes instead of yeah.  and no instead of nah.

i’m the one in line at school with the toddler on my hip and carrier on my forearm hearing “i’ve been there.”  “i remember those days.”  yeah, i’m pretty sure you’ve not been where i am.  i’m pretty sure my days are much different from how your days used to be.

i’m the one who hears “7?  you have 7 children?  three are adopted and four are in foster care?  oh, you’re amazing.  you’re a saint.  you’re so special.  you’re wonderful.”  no, i’m being obedient to my Savior.  and my obedience makes me want to vomit.  because this is so hard.

i’m the one wondering why i signed up for this. oh yeah, obedience.  life would have been so much easier if i would have left it alone.  i wouldn’t feel so tired.  so out of control.  so isolated.

i’m the one calling out to Jesus 8,000 times a day because 8,000 times a day i simply cannot do this.