For all who are following this journey, I feel like I need to answer some questions...

1.  What's his name? 
For social media purposes, his name is R but if and when you meet him, he will happily (and will really try to look you in the eyes while he does it) tell you his name.

2.  Why don't you post his face on Facebook?  
I can't post any identifying characteristics about him, his case, or his family because...privacy laws.

However, that doesn't mean we can't or don't want to get to know people.  He already knows lots of the people in my world and would love to meet more (but only one new meeting a day...as evidenced by the drama that ensued today) (insert wide open eye emoji here)

If you're out with us or comment on things, you can't post his face or his name either, but you can post me-if it's at a good angle and I approve it first ;)

3.  Why did he come into your care in the first place? 
Again, I can't tell you that.  I can tell you this, however...
The Department of Child Safety is in place to keep kids safe.  If the children are safe in their homes, they don't take them from their parents.

That does not mean that they don't have parents who love them.

4.  How long will he be with you?
I. Have. No. Idea.

And it's the hardest part.  I constantly feel myself, already, loving him "too much," treating him "too much" like my own kid.  However, in the words of a very wise seasoned foster mama friend of mine, "We treat them like ours and if they ever are not, we cross that bridge then."  Ok.  Ok but even thinking about him leaving makes my heart break more than the epic meltdown we had today.

5.  (If you're watching us in a grocery store and judging my parenting) Why does he act like that? 
Because trauma and adverse childhood experiences manifest themselves in many different ways in children, and behavior is one of them.  We're working on it...all day, every day and sometimes that's just not enough.

So, feel free to give me liquor...which I will need to store in my locked cabinet along with my nasal spray and Windex.  Ha! #thisisfoster

6.  Did you know this kid before?  Does he go to your school? 
Yes and I can't answer that but he'd be happy to tell you where he goes to school...usually before he tells you his name.

7.  What does he need?  Can you post a list? 
I probably won't get around to making a list because I can't even get around to applying sunscreen to my own body. 

He needs 4 red polo shirts because I'm not going to keep washing WHITE uniform shirts after a 9 year old boy acts like a 9 year old boy.  "Who, who makes white a uniform shirt color," says that Assistant Principal of a school who helps decide uniform colors.  Ha!

He needs Children's Tylenol and, after the rash he broke out in tonight, apparently Children's Benedryl.

He needs a new bedspread and a shower curtain and a few posters for his room to make it more his. 

He needs new toothpaste because he just learned how to brush his teeth for the first time and loves practicing but hasn't really gotten how much toothpaste is necessary yet.

Honestly, I have no idea what need needs besides that.  Every day I think of something new...usually after I've needed it.

Really, what he needs more than anything is patience, love, consistency and understanding...and he needs friends.

Plus, we've received a lot from our tribe!  We love you!

Let me know if you have more questions!  If I can answer them, I will!  If you're sick of these blogs...tough s***.  Just kidding (#notreally)  They are going to keep coming though.

Also, ummm parents?  You have always had all my respect.  But, for real now. You have ALL my respect.  #thisshitisexhausting

"No, no, no, no.  I'm not ready.  What did I just say I would do?  I know this kid.  I know the difficult behaviors he comes with and I just invited them into my home.  I have no idea how to be a parent," and it just kept rolling in my head as I furiously turned the "baby" room into a boy room and dashed off to the store to pick up more "kid food" while pulling out my phone to call the case worker back and tell her I had made a mistake. I was just spinning in my head when I got a text from an old friend whose words always have an innate ability to bring me to tears or change my actions on the spot,


And the checker at the counter looked at me with eyes that said, "I'm not sure why this shredded cheese is making you cry, but maybe you shouldn't be shopping right now?"

I took a deep breath, decided not to call and cancel my request for this kiddo and just kept reading that text.  I've done this a hundred times.  I got this.

And then it unfolded like a scene from a movie...

9:30 pm: Knock on the door and I answer to two DCS workers with a terrified little boy in front of them, holding a pillowcase full of his things.  My eyes immediately got hot with tears and a golf ball swelled up in my throat-both of which I forced myself to swallow back.  Why, why had this little boy been through so much in a short time?  He had buried himself in his clothes as if to try and shield him from the pain of this day and so many that came before it.  I said, "Hey Baby.  I'm so happy to see you.  Come here.  I've missed you so much," and into my arms he came. 

As the dutiful blog reading direction follower that I am, I had a movie playing and cookies fresh out of the oven-neither of which were very interesting to him.  He got to know the dog and talked a mile a minute while I tried to fill out paperwork with the DCS workers.  As he fixed his eyes on the screen for a few minutes, I said to the women, "Is this how late you always work?  You have a hard job.  I thought I had a hard job."

They said, "No, you have a hard job and today's transition was one of the most difficult ones with him.  There were so many tears but when we told him where he was going, he was so happy.  I do these transitions for a living and I have NEVER seen that.  I almost lost it.  I have never seen a kid go into someone's arms like he just did."

And I was reminded...
for all the times I fail,
for every step I feel that I'm behind in life,
for all the qualities I don't have,

This. 

This is what I was made to do.
Loving on tough kids in tough times.

Hard love.
Tough love.
All the love.

Bring it Baby.  

And as I tucked this sweet boy, who I was already in love with, into bed in his new room, he chose, I Wish You More as our first book book on our first night.  He read to me and when he finished I kissed him on the top of his head a tear fell from my eyes and landed on his hair.

For as many days as we're together or apart, I will always wish you more sweet baby.