I slept through my alarm. It was 6:55 and I launched out of bed when I realized I was hearing the sound of kids talking...the night before I wondered if an hour of alone time was enough before their "alarm" turned green at 7:00 signaling the privilege of leaving their room. Now I had 5 minutes. I didn't make it far before I heard their door open, at least I had splashed water on my face and prayed a quick prayer, a far stretch from the "quiet time" I had planned on
That's how the day started. Today we worked on the letter "B" we at blueberry bagels and blew up a BIG ball (yes, big enough to ride inside). I brought the 4's to their last day of Sports Camp at the community center and had some much-needed socialization with a friend while her two littles and my one little played...or took toys from each other...one of the two. I made three meals and two snacks. I tried to teach them to take turns and to share. I invited the neighbor and her kids over (probably more for me than for the kids'). I tended to my chickens and I took out the trash. I mediated and loved. I read a book (but not two). I worked with the preschool to deal with the stressful process of finding somewhere that both my biological and foster child can go. I communicated with the social worker. I'm sure I did more. I planned to ask my husband for help tonight, some help cleaning the house because I just couldn't do it all. But he was not feeling well and he needed rest. And he had already played with the kids while I set the table and he had already worked all day and read a bedtime story.
And do you know what? At the end of the day I was yelled at. I was screamed at. It sure would have been easier if I didn't make Capper go to the bathroom before he went to bed. It might have been easier if I let Evelyn do whatever she wanted. But I didn't. And it was hard. And Daniel was frustrated because by the time he gets home from work we are all tired and a little crabby. And I was frustrated because sometimes it feels like no matter how much I pour in, they still want more. It's never enough. And at the end of the day I sit. And I can sit and be frustrated (and sometimes I do). Or I can sit and know that I am enough. That I blow up at my kids sometimes. I act selfishly and I'm downright mean to my husband and my kids sometimes. But I am enough. I am doing the best I can and that is what they need.
All this isn't to tell you that I'm doing a perfect job. I'm not. All this isn't to seek your commendation. It isn't. But all this is to remind myself that I am doing my best. And one day I'll look back on these years and miss them. I almost miss them already watching these littles grow up before my eyes.
That's how the day started. Today we worked on the letter "B" we at blueberry bagels and blew up a BIG ball (yes, big enough to ride inside). I brought the 4's to their last day of Sports Camp at the community center and had some much-needed socialization with a friend while her two littles and my one little played...or took toys from each other...one of the two. I made three meals and two snacks. I tried to teach them to take turns and to share. I invited the neighbor and her kids over (probably more for me than for the kids'). I tended to my chickens and I took out the trash. I mediated and loved. I read a book (but not two). I worked with the preschool to deal with the stressful process of finding somewhere that both my biological and foster child can go. I communicated with the social worker. I'm sure I did more. I planned to ask my husband for help tonight, some help cleaning the house because I just couldn't do it all. But he was not feeling well and he needed rest. And he had already played with the kids while I set the table and he had already worked all day and read a bedtime story.
And do you know what? At the end of the day I was yelled at. I was screamed at. It sure would have been easier if I didn't make Capper go to the bathroom before he went to bed. It might have been easier if I let Evelyn do whatever she wanted. But I didn't. And it was hard. And Daniel was frustrated because by the time he gets home from work we are all tired and a little crabby. And I was frustrated because sometimes it feels like no matter how much I pour in, they still want more. It's never enough. And at the end of the day I sit. And I can sit and be frustrated (and sometimes I do). Or I can sit and know that I am enough. That I blow up at my kids sometimes. I act selfishly and I'm downright mean to my husband and my kids sometimes. But I am enough. I am doing the best I can and that is what they need.
All this isn't to tell you that I'm doing a perfect job. I'm not. All this isn't to seek your commendation. It isn't. But all this is to remind myself that I am doing my best. And one day I'll look back on these years and miss them. I almost miss them already watching these littles grow up before my eyes.
