Foster Parent Week

I had no idea there was such a week, but this week apparently is it. I would imagine that most foster parents overlook it because life is so hectic.

For example, this is my calendar. Anything red, gray, or purple is foster care related. Green is related to the four of us.

So you can see, we're busy. By the time the boys go to bed at night, it's all I can do to get the cork out of the bottle and drag myself outside to sit until the mosquitoes start to bite, and it's time to go to bed and do it all over again. The 836 emails in my inbox, and stacks of papers will just have to wait.

For this reason, we're not licensed yet. We went into this as a relative care situation, meaning that our foster child is related to one of us. Because of that, we were able to take him without being licensed in foster care, but we have the option to do so to receive financial assistance and to accept other children (in the future).

Getting licensed requires us to go through the same process we had to before we were approved to adopt Isaiah and then some. There would be three Saturday orientation classes plus the home inspection, background investigations, and psych testing. And I'm just not sure where to put all of that on the calendar. So our already tight budget, is gasping for air. Not only is there a financial aspect to this, but the interpersonal aspect is what is threatening to take me under.

But this isn't a post about my life (yes, it is); it's a post about all foster parents.

Having experienced this for just over two months now, I can tell you this: When Isaiah was born and I quit my job to stay home, I thought that was the hardest job I ever had. Then he left the newborn stage and then that was the hardest job ever, and I was so tired. Around a year I started to feel a little more confident in my abilities, but I was still so tired. Now, I don't even try. I know for certain that I don't have my stuff together, I know that the Honey Nut Cheerios are the reason we have ants, and I know that my teeth are turning purple from the wine, but I can't even care. I don't even try to count the ounces of milk they drink per day and I'm not sure either one ate a vegetable yesterday. I'm not even sure I ate a vegetable yesterday.

What I'm trying to say is, if you know a foster parent, let them know that this is their week to be appreciated, because I would bet they don't even know. And give them a hug and a bottle of wine because they earned it.