Update

So, the last 2 weeks have been crazy. I'm not talking about just super busy, can't catch my breath crazy, but like "IreallythinkIjustmightforrealdrivemyselfoverthatcliffoverthere" CRAZY!

It all started with a phone call telling us that our 2 youngest boys would be going home for a visit, over the weekend, with their dad, and that said dad (whom we hadn't even heard from for at least a month) would not be bringing them back.

 As a houseparent, you learn to take most things with a grain of salt. Not because you don't WANT to believe what the parents/caseworkers/guardians ad litem tell you about the child's case, but because most of what these people tell you can, literally, change within the next phone call. Literally. So, needless to say, we did not pack a single bag, did not say our final good-byes, and did not allow ourselves to get emotional. Besides, this was, at least, the 3rd time in the 6 months we have been here, that we have gotten a call like this.

Welp. I guess "third time's the charm."

So, after a wild,  back-and-forth, up-and-down, several months with these 2 little brothers (ages 4 and 6), their dad, dressed in a "wife beater" undershirt and sagging jeans, actually drove his rusted jeep to our house and loaded all the boys and their belongings into the back. Mom came in her boyfriend's low-rider truck and managed to peacefully pack the remainder of their possessions, along with their 2 year old sister, and drive off into the sunset to begin the rest of her life caring for her children.

I'll understand if you need to re-read that. I promise, every word is true.

In our 4+ years as house parents, we have had kids stay for several days, to several weeks, and some even a few years. We have had kids that we bonded with immediately, and some that drove us almost clinically insane. Through it all, one thing has always been true:

I always cry when they leave.

Even when I knew I couldn't help them, anymore.
 Even when I had weeks or months to prepare.
 Even when they were getting adopted into a forever family.
Even when they were 18 and fully equipped to make their own way in life.
Whatever the reason for a child's departure, good, bad, indifferent, I still wanted him/her to be with mine, forever.

It was days like that Monday when the little brothers left that I was reminded, in the worst of ways, that these precious blessings were not mine, and will never, truly, be mine.

So, that was hard.

But we all got back into some semblance of a routine. We abruptly went from a family of 10 to a family of 8, and we were ok. It was very quiet around our house (which, in spite of it all, I think we all appreciated), and we were all a little off track, but we were coming around.

I was actually starting to get used to having only 8.

8 is Great!

8 is Enough!

Then, on our way to a cookout, last Thursday, our Case Manager calls and says, "Hey, you got a minute to talk?"

Sure. I'm just driving to the cookout, so I've got a few minutes.

Well, the thing is, there is this sibling group of 5 and then this other sibling group of 3. We couldn't take the 5 because we don't have room, but thankfully, the group of 3 is all boys, and since this is a call from the county (which we haven't gotten in almost 3 years), I feel like we need to move on this.

Umm....*pause*....well......*pause*.....when would this all take place?

Well, the police.........*didn't hear much of this part*.........so they have nowhere to go. Whenever you guys get done with the cookout, we will probably be done with the paperwork and then I will just bring the boys over to the house. I hate to do this to y'all, but I feel like if we say no, they won't ever call us again to place children.

Oh, no, that's fine. I was just trying to run everything through and figure out where everyone would go. Yeah, I think we can make that work.

Ok good. Talk to Chris. Figure out how you want to set up the house and I will just text you with anymore information that I get.

Ok. Talk to you later.

Bye.

For. Real.

So, when we got back to the house, the 3 most precious boys, 10, 8, and 3, were there looking up at us with those sad, chocolate-brown eyes of theirs, and I was hooked. Well, we had to wrangle the 3 year old out of the pack 'n' play, first, but afterward, he was definitely looking up at me like that. Yeah, definitely.

Those boys have been a wonderful addition to our family with their cute personalities and their outdoorsy, adventurous spirits. Oh, and that 3 year old...we can only understand about 50% of what he says. He has some speech delays, so most of what comes out is jibberish, but man are his smiles and hugs telling me exactly what I need to know! :) Christopher told me, the other day, that we don't know what he's saying because, "He's, he's talkeen in Sp-sp-spaynish." :)

On top of all this (you didn't think THAT was IT, did you?) we have another boy, 9 years old, joining our family for the weekends. His family doesn't want him changing schools this close to the end of the year, so he'll only be here Friday-Sunday for the next few weeks. After that, he will come to live with us full time.

So, our family of 10 went down to 8, then to 11, and then to 12.

All in a matter of 2 weeks.

Don't think I haven't had a notion to jump over that cliff, this week, because today, on the eve of relief, I could use some "resting in peace."

But I sure would miss those little 3 year old smiles and hugs.