Today was UH DAY. For starters, Christmas is dead. And so is happiness and joy. Because today , horror of horrors, school started again. UGH. THE WORST. I know, I have heard, that many of you were super excited to drag your kids out of bed nice and early this morning, and kick those little booties back to their teachers. Well I’m sorry, but I make really poor life decisions. When I kick them back to school, they kick me right back. And then I have 3 or so extra hours of work each day. Awesome.
But this back to school day was PARTICULARLY busy and exhausting. Not only was it followed by 5 hours of getting-paid work and a trip to the grocery store, but we ALSO had a bonus trip down to the social worker’s office. Because….
And now here’s some news…
WE ARE NO LONGER FOSTER PARENTS!
Alrighty. I see that my moment of celebration might make me look like a foster-child hating monster. And I apologize. I have a million billion buckets full of respect and admiration ready to dump on all of you wonder foster parents that I’ve met over the years. You are some real baby saving rock stars, and I friggin dig it. I DIG IT. The thing is, I’m just not one of you anymore.
Because as of today, I am instead, an Adoptive Parent. Now I’ll give you a moment to pause, take back all the bad thoughts you had about me, and cheer.
Yep that’s right! As of today, our daughter is no longer in foster placement, she is in adoptive placement. Which is WAY different and TOTALLY better.
For onesies, we have a new eligibility worker, which is great, probably. Her name is Gloria, or something else that starts with a G which I forget.
For twosies (ha. Poop.) our daughter now OFFICIALLY has our last name, and I have a piece of paper to prove it! I believe I am supposed to carry this paper around to prove that she is my kid and that her name is now my name. However, if every person I have ever met is to be believed, it would be smarter to carry around the birth certificate of my first born, who I’m told looks far, far less like me than our newest addition does.
For threesies, apparently, for the first time in 17 months, husband and I have RIGHTS. As this was explained to us, up through January 8, 2017, for pretty much whatever reason, the gov’mint could show up and take my kid away. But starting January 9, 2017, if the same gov’mint wanted to take my kid away, they’d like, have to have a freakin good reason to do it. They’d have to build a case. Write a report. Take pictures of our terrible home. Talk to their supervisors. And that all sounds really tedious and annoying, so I think we’re probably cool.
IT SHOULD BE NOTED, that none of this is officially officially official yet. Honorable Judge So-And-So needs to stamp our paperwork, and since the social worker thinks my husband has a degree in Math Media (which is awesome because he is definitely the worst at Math, plus, seriously, what is that?) we can never be 100% sure that they won’t panic and make us start all over. Or something.
But as of today? If they want my kid back, they will have to pry her out of my cold. Dead. Hands. Take that, government.