Last week started off amazing but at this point is almost a blur.
I received the My Special Mom Award at a Mother’s Day event. My kids stepped onto the stage and into the light. They embraced their story and I am so proud of them for that. A few short months ago Josh was so uncomfortable with being in foster care that he would tell his friends that we were his step parents. When asked which was his real parent he would reply that we were both his step parents. We’ve come a long way.
Here is a bit of our moment:
Jason and I got into the Strangest. Fight. Ever. It was over nothing. We exchanged some words. He stormed off into the bedroom. I looked around for an excuse to go into the bedroom. I pretended to change out my purse. I could tell he was watching me so I laughed. And then he laughed. End of fight.
Our local radio station played a part of my mother’s day speech on the radio-holy cow!
Later that night we found out that the kids’ biological family reached out to Josh through Facebook, again.
After no sleep I met with the kids’ therapeutic team who suggested we allow contact with the biological family. Terrified.
Zero sleep. Skyler officially has all As and Bs, Orthopedic appointment proves that Josh needs Surgery. A trip to the Vet, my sweet Pepe is getting old.
Well, Thursday was a long day:
I use to worry that because I didn’t birth my kids I wouldn’t have motherly instincts and if I did they’d somehow be mediocre. But then an incident occurs and I left face to face with one of my children and they are expecting me to say the right words and rise to the given occasion. I know there have been times when I’ve let them down. Times when I’ve spent the entire night tossing and turning wishing that I’d handled it differently. Or said more or said less. But life continues to throw us curve balls and makes way for a “do over”.
I got my do over. A note from a friend just about broke Kyla’s heart (and mine too). I knew we would have to deal with this at some point or another but I hadn’t had time to prepare myself for it.
I knew something was wrong with her right away. She sat at the kitchen table and with a quivering mouth told me about her day.
One of Kyla’s good friends, one whom she shared her whole life story with, didn’t invite Kyla to her birthday party. The explanation was given in a note. It included your typical he said she said 6th grade drama. I so wish it would have stopped there.
But towards the bottom, there it was in written in purple ink…
PS at least my mom wanted me
Damn it. Now, the first thoughts that ran through my mind were not kind and little immature. I wanted to find her friend and tell her she was never welcomed in my home again. I wanted to tell her what hateful person she was but then I met Kyla’s eyes…she was barely hanging on and waiting for me to make this better.
And somehow, I knew exactly what to do. I bent down beside her, cuffed her face in my hands and I told her I want you. I want you Kyla. I want you. I want you. She dropped to her knees and we sat on the kitchen floor and I hugged her as she sobbed into my shoulder. Before I knew it Josh was on the floor hugging us too. And before long my baby girl was soothed.
Later that night we initiated contact with the biological family. I’m still scared.
Barely any sleep but we managed to run the kids’ to a birthday party, get groceries and called it an early night.
One baseball game, two trips to friend’s houses and a birthday party. Which left Jason and I home alone on a Saturday evening or the first time in a very long 16 months. We sipped champagne and tried to catch our breath.