1 Year and Counting

I know it's Friday, but I'm going to tell you about Wednesday.

That was the day it snowed in the boys room. I'm sure you're thinking they opened up the window and let the snow in, but it wouldn't be that simple around this house. No, you see, it snowed tissues. A whole jumbo size box of tissues. Each one pulled from it's box and tossed around the room. It did look remarkably like snow drifted up in the corners, piled on top of the laundry, fluttering down on to the beds. It took quite a bit to clean it all up too.

Wednesday was also an anniversary of sorts. One year ago on Wednesday The Little Miss joined our family. We are happy to have her, we love to love on her, but we're sad to know the reasons why she isn't with her own family. It is hard knowing that at just 18 months old, she has spent 12 of those months with us and not her birth family. It sometimes seems like great progress is being made on all fronts and she'll go home soon, but then more weeks go by with no change and you wonder.

It's a weird thing to be a part of. You love them, but with a space.

I thought it last night as I rocked baby girl to sleep, baby not mine asleep in my arms. Girl friend who calls me mommy, but still stands ready at the door on visit days to go see mommy. How jumbled this little one's mind must be.

And how will it work out for the other mommy? She has to "pass" an unwritten test proving mommy ability, but I've had her baby all this time. I've done the 24/7 work. She hasn't had the chance to do it. So how will she. It almost seems like a system that can't work. So I keep your child day and night, but then when someone, somewhere decides you're ready, we give you long stretches with a child you hardly know, your child and watch you to see if you will pass. I can't imagine how one could. How would you know which cry means I'm sad and which means I'm hungry if you're not the 24 hour mommy? Even though she's your flesh and blood, I'm the one who knows her looks and sighs.

So we've built a year of memories with her. Probably mostly our memories. Should she go home soon, she won't remember our faces or names. She won't remember meals at our house or family outings. Maybe she'll remember a smell or a taste. Maybe someday in her world it will be a feel of something that will make her pause and think, why is this so familiar? But maybe not.

It's just what we do right now.