We’re going to pick up the kids in about 20 minutes.
It’s a weird mix of feelings.
I’ve never had this much notice before and I feel like I’m getting ready for a first date or something. Like I said, weird.
I’m nervous about the homecoming we’re about to face. I don’t know if the other foster parent told the kids what was going to happen today, but I know she’s had their bags packed by the door ( like actually PACKED and BY THE FRIGGEN DOOR) for at least a week (yeah…. I have a lot to say about the other foster parent). How will they react when a virtual stranger shows up at daycare to take them “home.” When the person they’ve lived with for the past six months drives by and leaves their things on the doorstep sometime tonight (did I mention those things I have to say are not very nice). *sigh* We’re picking up where somebody else failed and it’s a bit nerve-wracking. A bit.
And I found out a little while ago that mom doesn’t know about the move. That seems strange to me. She should know. It’s kind of a big deal. Kind of.
Thanks to an immeasurable act of generosity, our pantry is stocked, we have a van (our van isn’t in yet, but the place let us use one for free until ours arrives), we have plans for a bigger table (amazing deal!!!) and ridiculously cool new beds for the boys that will give them a bit more space (have I mentioned how incredibly blessed we are??!!).
So… we’re ready. But I feel not at all ready.
And I know it’ll be fine. Or it won’t. And I know that we have friend and family support. And I’m not afraid of the work. I guess I’m just ready to jump in and get my hands dirty….