Thursday, December 14, 2017

The Quilt that Guilt Built

Last December, as we were decking the halls, I thought to myself- I really want to make a Christmas quilt. But December isn't exactly the best time to attack a craft of that magnitude so I (reluctantly) put that idea in the "someday" pile and moved on my merry way.

Sometime last Summer the thought came back around, and I was so proud of myself for thinking of it early this time, for getting ahead of things! But then...I forgot to actually do anything about it, (it's kind of hard to get in the yuletide spirit when it's more of a tidepool season) so the idea accidentally found its way back to the "someday" pile.

And was November. And this idea suddenly sprang back into my head. I had to have a Christmas quilt. And not someday. THIS day. THIS season. THIS Christmas. I knew that the timing was awful- the last thing we need right now is one more thing to do (or one more mess covering our dining table) but there was no reasoning with me this time around (not even me reasoning with myself). This was the year of the Christmas quilt. No matter how little sense that seemed to make.

So I poked around my Pinterest boards of old ideas, trying to find something magical to make this dream a reality, but I just wasn't finding anything I loved.

But then.
I found it.
The quilt.
My Christmas quilt.

The bayside quilt, by Suzy Quilts.

It was modern. It was beautiful. It abstractly looked like Christmas trees.

The only problem? The pattern wasn't available yet. Suzy was going to release it on Cyber Monday (the day after Thanksgiving weekend), which at the time was still a week away. Making a quilt in time for Christmas was crazy, but I knew it would be impossible if I didn't take advantage of some sewing time over the long holiday weekend. So I took a chance, and sent her a direct message telling her how lovely her quilt was, and how desperately I wanted one of my very own, and asked if mayyyyyyybe, just mayyyyyyybe she'd be willing to let me buy an advanced copy of the pattern?

And she said yes!

And...I cried.
I laid in my bed, read her message back to me and I cried.

I cried because we were going to have a Christmas quilt. Which means we were going to have a Christmas. 

Now, I know I have a flair for the dramatic from time to time...but I think recently at least, I come by it honestly. Because to be real, the last two months have been rough.  Like...really rough. I am so so so very tired. Physically, yes, but also mentally and emotionally and spiritually. I have too many conflicting and complicated feelings about the whole thing to pour it all out right here right now, but the part that matters at this point is that I was just feeling hopeless. And helpless. I couldn't make everything fun. I couldn't make everything good. I couldn't make everything, anything.

But I could make a quilt.

And I thought to myself, that maybe if I made a big enough quilt; a beautiful enough quilt; a cozy enough quilt...maybe I could tuck my whole family underneath it and we'd be ok. Maybe my kids would have a physical representation of how much I adore them. Maybe I'd be forgiven for the impatience, selfishness, and lack of compassion that's pouring out of me in ways that make me ashamed of who I am. Maybe this could be my atonement for getting us all into a giant mess that I can barely see out of.

Maybe I could pour my effort and my emotions into making something beautiful in the midst of the murkiness, and we could have a soft place to land. A safe place to snuggle. A patchwork version of comfort and joy.

And so this quilt became my labor of love, and honestly, my coping mechanism. In foster care, in parenting, in life there is so much that it is out of our control. And I HATE being out of control. There are so many things I just....can't. I needed some things that I can.

Well...I can buy adorable prints. And lay out something inspiring. And measure. And cut. And measure. And cut. And sew. And sew. And sew.

So that's what I did. Every night after bedtime I lugged out my supplies, popped in my headphones, and I worked. I worked on something concrete, and tangible, and lovely. I listened to parenting podcasts, I prayed as I pressed, and I tried to lose myself in something I could feel good at. Something that that make sense. That has a start and a finish. Process, progress, right angles, and complimentary colors. Something that keeps my hands busy, and my mind from wandering into darkness.

I sewed this quilt for the same reasons that I put up Christmas trees in every bedroom, buy too many stocking stuffers at Target, and eat queso blanco on the couch at 10 o'clock:

To compensate and to escape.

I want to eat my feelings, buy my feelings, and craft my feelings.

I want to shower my kids with every good thing I can find, to make up for all the terrible things they've seen and are dealing with. So many of which are beyond my control, but even scarier, so many of which are my fault.

I want to drown myself in every good thing I can find, to distract from the overwhelming fear, failure, guilt, shame, worry, sadness and doubt.

I may not literally self-medicate, but I understand the desire people have to escape the harder parts of life. To throw yourself into whatever seems to work, whatever feels better, whatever is easier than facing another day full of uncertainty and exhaustion.

So my quilt is complicated.
It's something I'm extremely proud of, and also desperately in need of.
I had to make this...while I wonder if we're going to make it.
And now it's complete- edges squared, stray threads snipped off, ready for cuddles, and forts, and messes, and movies, and books, and tears, and....Christmas.

But am I?

Well, I'm not quite ready for Christmas, and I'm no where near complete. My edges are raw, and I've got loose threads everywhere, threatening to unravel at any moment. But now I do have a big fluffy reminder that there are things I am good at, traditions I'm building, and memories that will matter. This quilt isn't the point. It's a byproduct of a much bigger work that is being done in our lives right now...a work that is far from over.

Right now, this quilt is a thing that I did to help me feel centered, and productive, and maybe even just a little bit merry.
Soon it'll be a thing that I use to cover my people in a love I'm not even sure I fully have.
Later it'll be something we bring back out as a reminder of where we've been, and a hope for where we're headed.


If you're here for the quilt, and got sucked into the dramatics, my apologies. I'm a quilter, yes, but I'm also a sharer, (and an oversharer), so you may come for the fabric but you'll leave with a story.
Here's a bit of the nitty gritty if that's more your thing:

Quilt pattern: Suzy Quilts Bayside. It's so affordable, and so easy to follow. I've never used a quilt pattern before, so this was a fun kind of "reverse" challenge, to not do it all myself this time. I also followed her video tutorials for template cutting, and chain-piecing which helped the process go more smoothly.

I did change things up a bit because I wanted to use more fabrics than the pattern called for, so I ended up having to do a lot more thinking, adjusting, and surprisingly difficult math-ing, to get everything to work. I also insisted upon doing something fun on the back (All of my quilts have had a pieced back of some kind. I just can't bring myself to do one plain backer. It's contrary to my more is more ethos!) so I had to figure that out on the fly as well.

FabricJoann. I didn't want to belabor this prework of it all...I just wanted to GET MOVING, so I took Piper with me to Joann one day and just blitzed through the holiday aisles, grabbing anything that looked like it could work. I eventually narrowed it down to the 8 I loved best that I thought would work together well. I actually rushed the process a little, buying fabric before I had the pattern, so I was taking wild guesses on how much I needed. That proved to be a mistake (duh!) but a fixable one, though it did require spending another hour at the Joann's cutting counter returning some of my pieces, digging up the matching bolts of fabric and re-buying appropriate amounts.

A post shared by Courtney Bowden (@bowdenisms) on

Batting: Warm and Natural (I hate that brand name so so much. But I love the batting).
Binding: Can you believe I still have more of this striped trim? I'm obsessed with how it looks with this quilt. (And I think I have enough on the spool to do one project...someday!)
Walking foot: After spending farrrrrrr too long doing my first row of quilting I sprung for walking foot and oooooh (feed) doggies it was helpful. (I posted a tale of confusion and woe in my local quilters' guild Facebook group, and they recommended I get one). It's stuff like this that reminds me I have NO clue what I'm doing. I approach quilting a whole lot like I approach life- get in super deep super fast, basically wing it all, learn everything the hard way... Oh, but wait. Now we're wading back into metaphors and melancholy self-reflection. I better sign off and make time for the really good stuff...because this quilt was made to be loved- and I know just the people to do it.

For more quilt love- poke around the blog, or instagram

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Thursday, November 16, 2017

Little Pip-Speaks: Volume 29

It's been MONTHS since our last edition of this nonsense...and I've been sitting on some real winners. Go 'head, girls...

Pip-speak #1:
Mama: Look at the potbelly pigs. Do you want to see him on the way out?
Piper: Are you kidding me? I wish it was my job to go to the fair. 
Mama: *beams with pride*

Pip-speak #2:
Piper: Be careful of that spider because he will eat you to death.

Pip-speak #3: 
Piper {listening to Fin being disciplined in the car}: Daddy, if I was a if I tooked your place, then I would give her another chance. 

Pip-speak #4: 
Piper: Those people riding bikes aren't wearing helmets. Isn't that over the law?

Pip-speak #5: 
Piper {at the Southwest airport gate}: Are these guys and girls almost as nice as the guys and girls at Ikea?

Pip-speak #6: 
Piper: I know why it's called chicken. 'Cuz it's made out of a dead chicken. Wouldn't it be funny if you didn't take the fur off of the cow and your steak had spots?

Pip-speak #7: 
Mama {asking about a teacher at school}: Do you like Ms. X?
Piper: I don't. Because she always hugs me. I don't like her hugs. They're too squeezy. 

Pip-speak #8: 
Piper {Listening to Homegoods hold music}: Is this like, teenager music?

Pip-speak #9: 
Piper {seeing Fin fall asleep in the car after a rough day}: G'mi, she is kind of cute when she is asleep!

Pip-speak #10: 
Piper {spotting a Coca-Cola truck}: Look mama, it's a big red truck with your favorite writing on it.

Pip-speak #11: 
Piper: Jesus rose again from the doom. {Points to the paper tomb she made at church} This is his doom. 

Pip-speak #12: 
Piper: Daddy why can't you drive?
Daddy: Because Mama is right now.
Piper: But if you could drive then you could stop telling her what to do. 

Finnish #1: 
Fin {to the tune of Ba Ba Black Sheep}:  
Yes sir, yes sir, have you any wool? 
Yes sir, yes sir, have you any wool.  [x1000]

Finnish #2:Fin: Can you get me more bologna-o?
Mama {loooooong pause}: Salami?
Fin {sheepish giggle}: Yeah.

Finnish #3:
Fin: Bunny's name is Bunny unless he's in trouble and then it's Jelly. 

Finnish #4:
Fin: Mama, I counted all the way up to 29. That's pretty impressed huh? Usually I count down low but this time I counted up high. 

Finnish #5:  
Fin: Let's go open our presents. You got one too. But you only get dangerous things in your basket. Mama: Really?
Fin: Well. Probably.

Finnish #6:
Fin: G'mi, will you please pick me up? I'm very cuddly.

Finnish #7:
Fin: Piper will you trade me places? I don't like sitting next to Miller. He smells like a dog.

Finnish #8:
Fin: I'm really close to Piper. A'cuz after I be 4, I be 5. 

Finnish #9:
G'mi: Fin, I can't believe you're going to be four years old.
Fin: I can't believe me either.

Finnish #10:
Fin: Galley-up horsey!

Finnish #11:
Mama {supervising a pony ride}: What did you name your horse?
Fin: Mo' betta. 
Mama: Loretta?
Fin: No. Mo' betta. 

Dynamic Duo #1:
Piper {after hearing the rules of pool basketball}: It's like throwing soccer!
Fin: Will you help me get taller so I can actually throw it?

Dynamic Duo #2:
Piper: Mama, I'm having a party. I'm getting married. You can come. Fin is my husband. 
Fin: Mommy, can you please not clean up? Can you just get married with us?

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Monday, October 23, 2017

Foster Care: This "stuff" matters

I should probably stop keeping track of all the things I've cried about in our journey foster care so's getting to be too much to count. But the most recent things, were actually literally "things". Starting with this backpack. Our girls didn't come to us with much, so when our case worker came with welcome bags full of gifts and necessities, tailored to their age and gender, our 5-year-old lit up. She ooh'ed and ahh'ed over every single thing in her bag (Toothpaste! Socks! My very own crayons!), but she especially loved the backpack itself. She told us she hated her old backpack (a logo'ed freebie from a local early education program) and was so excited to have one that didn't make her "look like a boy". 

This sparkly wonder came with a matching lunchbox, which was an answer to a prayer so simple I hadn't even taken the time to actually form it...feeling silly about asking for something so basic. I was stressed about getting all the little pieces in place for her to start school on Monday (today!) and a lunch box was one of those pieces. Apparently where Amazon Prime falls short, Jesus steps in. 

She clutched her new treasures- smelling her Minions body wash, and inquiring about the "charger?" (actually a new nightlight), while I teared up over the simple goodness of "things" and how they can mean so much. 

A few days later, "things" struck again, and I found myself crying in the clearance aisle of a Philadelphia-area Walmart. I had wanted to pick up a few uniform pieces so she could have some school clothes of her own (vs. splitting Piper's already pretty meager collection) but after a little searching it seemed most places were out of stock at this point in the season. I called Walmart, thinking they'd have to have something, but the associate said there wasn't much left. But I sneaked out during the little kids' naptime anyway, hoping juuuuuuust maybe they had a few remaining things that could work.

And lo and behold- they had racks full of things. Skirts and polos and pants...more than enough to create a suitable wardrobe for our kiddo (and all on sale!) So I stocked up, hitting a few bonus aisles as well (Halloween candy, a new bike helmet, some surprise trinkets for the car trip home). I pushed my cart, and I cried over the abundance of it all; overwhelmed by the needs, but also by this gift of being able to do something tangible for these girls; to show them love and provision in the simplest of ways. 

We've had these kids just over a week...and it has been HARD. They are lovely little girls, and are adjusting as well as could possibly be expected but it is still HARD. We are exhausted tending to the needs of five little ones, especially piled on top of an extra-busy time in our household. (Five people's needs seem to magnify when you're trapped in a car for 16 hours over a long weekend). I second-guess myself constantly, not sure if I'm doing the right thing for anyone. And though I'm familiar with the doubt and guilt  of motherhood when dealing with my own kids, it's a whole new level to worry about letting these new kids down. The stakes are higher when it's someone else's kids; kids who have already been through pain and trauma and loss. 

So I cry over "things". Because they are so much more than stuff. A backpack is a sign that she is worthy, and special. A lunchbox is a sign that my needs (however small) are not forgotten. A bargain rack full of skorts is a physical example of the  blessings God has laid out for our family. 

There are so many needs to be met, and so many ways I'm not as good at this as I would like. But simultaneously there are infinite ways I can love these kids well, one "thing" at a time. 

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Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Hurry up...and wait...

Waiting is my least favorite thing to do. I know it comes as no surprise that patience is not a virtue I was blessed with in abundance. I am not an expert at waiting, but I know in that I'm not alone. Waiting isn't fun; waiting is hard. But waiting in foster care is especially rough, and complicated and gives life to the cliché expression "all the feels". 

I expected the waiting in the beginning. I knew it would take a while to go to all the classes, fill out all the paperwork, get all our clearances etc. etc. etc. etc. But once we were finally certified I thought the wait was more or less over. All through our training we heard about the number of kids in the system, the shortage of foster parents, the great and immediate need. We've heard of people getting certified and getting kids the same day. We've heard of middle of the night calls, and emergency pick-ups. 

And yet, nearly two months after being certified, we have no kids. 

We have received calls. In fact, in the last month (we officially opened our home up to receive placements after our vacation in mid-July) we've received nine referral calls. Two of these were for respite care (like babysitting for foster parents where they get a break for a couple days) that we said yes to. Two calls ended up being canceled- they didn't have a need after all, or it was settled before we got details. Four calls we had to say no to. And two calls we accepted but were not chosen. 
Since becoming certified, we've gotten at least two calls a week, with our longest stretch between them being eight days. 

So some of it is outright waiting; periods of silence where we wonder if there's anything going on. And some of it is back-and-forth waiting; saying yes, saying no, waiting for details to be coordinated. 

In some ways waiting for a placement is just like waiting for a baby. After all, we got into this because we wanted to care for more kids. We wanted another little one (or two) to join our family- even if for a short time. So we're excited, and anxious, and ready for that little love to show up. It's like the last stages of pregnancy, when you've done everything you can to prepare and are now just looking forward to that hazy finish line, wondering when you'll finally arrive...

But on the other hand I hesitate to be too eager about it all, because in order for someone to join our family, it means another family is being ripped apart. Every time that agency number shows up on my caller ID, it means there's a kid somewhere in crisis. 

So for me, the waiting encompasses two different sides of a very messy story. I want a baby, a son, daughter, a child. I want to be useful, I want to help. And I also don't. I want to live in a world where foster care isn't necessary. Where moms and dads are equipped and supported to take care of their families well. Where there is no brokenness. Where trauma and abuse don't exist. Where my phone never rings, because there is no need. 

But I know that's not the reality. So we sit in limbo. We get up every morning thinking "maybe today's the day. Maybe today's the day where everything changes". It's a constant state of "anything can happen". We say yes to plans and commitments, with the thought of "unless we have a placement" running through the back of our heads. We have daycare on standby, knowing we might have to snatch up one of their open spots. We have a room prepared, bins of different supplies and clothes at the ready. 

When people ask us about our journey through foster care the conversation always includes the phrase "not yet..." and typically leads to me explaining how the system works. How it's not as simple as just taking in a kid who needs a home. It involves multiple agencies, the county, matching up profiles, available beds, certification specifics...all with the goal of providing the most appropriate care for specific kids, and the particular situation. 

I thought saying no would break my heart. But so far it's been mercifully clear whether we were able to take each placement. We've talked extensively about the circumstances that we're prepared to deal with, and when things fall outside of our comfort zone (an extremely open and relative term, as none of this is actually in anyone's comfort zone) we consider the situation and decide if it's something we feel will be able to do well. When we say no, I don't feel like I'm letting anyone down. I feel like I'm making way for somebody else's better yes. It's actually our yeses that have been a little harder. With both of the referrals we accepted, I felt nervous but confident in how we should respond. When we found out that they would be going to other homes, I was disappointed, and hit with how much I really wanted it to be us. But again, I trust that those kids ended up exactly where they needed to be right now. I hope and pray that the families that take them in are the best fit for what they need. 

So… We continue to wait. I have my phone nearby constantly checking the screen for the "bat signal"... the sign that someone's in trouble. My cue to swoop in. The call that will end the waiting and transform all of this maybe, all of the someday, into a reality. 

I'm ready for our "yes and…" But I'm also trying to soak up the lessons to be found in the "yes...and wait." 

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Thursday, June 29, 2017

Ready for the ruckus...

On Monday we got a call that we've been waiting on for a long time...

We are certified foster parents!

We began this process back in September, taking classes and getting started on the (copious amount of) paperwork. We weren't able to get all the classes done in the first session (it was every Saturday for a few months) and there was a big break for the holidays, so the whole process dragged on a bit. We completed our homestudy back in March, completed our paperwork and from there we were told it was just a matter of the state approving it.

Well...we ran into some bureaucratic hiccups, that resulted in more paperwork, repeat fingerprints, some backup references, even more paperwork, and another interview to approve us as a "large family" (because our certification could enable us to have 5+ kids total).

So we jumped through the hoops- again, some more- somewhat impatiently, finally finishing everything up (we thought/hoped/prayed) last Friday. And then we waited...and were surprised to hear back from our agency the next (business) day- we were approved. We were certified. This whole thing is real, and finished...but also...about to start.
The clock. A visible metaphor...

This whole process is hard for about a million reasons (and we haven't even started the hard part) but the thing I struggle with most is that it doesn't feel real. During the training phase, it's all really theoretical. You know that at the end of this there is a kid (or kids, or a baby...or babies) but you don't know really anything else. There's no official timeline, there are no guarantees, there's no way to prep for a certain scenario because genuinely almost anything could happen. It's all very abstract. And for a planner/prepper like myself, that's tough. I can fill out forms all day, but printing multiple copies of my birth certificate doesn't exactly get me hyped. I wanted something to latch onto, to get excited about, to get ready for...

So, I planned a room.
I found the fun stuff, the stuff I can control, and poured my heart and energy there.

I joke that if having babies was all nursery-decorating and name choosing, I would have a MILLION babies. It's honestly just the most fun. I love to design a room, but with my kiddos it's about so much more than that. It's about making a space just for them. It's dreaming in 3 dimensions...imagining what they'll enjoy, what you'll do together, who they'll become...

So as we did the nitty-gritty work on the logistical side, and started wading into the heart-stretching work on the spiritual side, I got my hands dirty on the design side. (and, as always, made Dustin get his hands dirty too...we're in this together, after all, and mama needed some carpentry done!)

I won't bore you with every single detail of the room, buuuuuuuuuuuuuut...

I really do love how it turned out. There isn't really an exact theme, but it all has a bit of a mid-century vintage vibe, with a little bit of school-book stuff worked in there. Mix of primary colors + neutrals + gold. And really just anything I fall in love with.

One of my absolute favorite things is the very first thing I got for our future foster babe...An original poetry piece by my friend Amy Turn Sharp. Over two years ago...even before I had Miller...I saw one of her "basically it's like this" poems and knew I had to have it. The text says:

Basically it's like this
 I wish you would show up unannounced and cause a ruckus. 

That just spoke to me...Because that's what kids do. However planned, however anticipated, there is always a bit of wildness to their arrival, and they cause a ruckus in your heart, in the best and hardest ways. When I fell in love with those words, I didn't know that we would foster one day. And even now, I know I only barely grasp how true these words could prove to be as we open the literal and figurative door for our lives to be turned upside-down.

So as soon as we started down this wild path, I asked her to make a custom piece for me, using a page from an old Dick and Jane book. I've had it framed for months now...ready...waiting...just like we are...

(And in a funny little circular story...I bought the art from Amy to help fund her attendance at a creative conference, and Amy bought the queen bed we needed to sell to make room for the crib in this room. I love having tangible reminders and little hidden backstories worked into this space that remind me this whole thing is so much bigger than me...We're all inter-connected, and a part of a journey together). 

As much fun as redecorating if for me, I didn't want to (/couldn't) spend a ton of money on a bunch of new things, so we made it work almost entirely with pieces we already owned. (You'll recognize a lot from when this space was set up as a guest room, and a few things from Piper's nursery). The biggest purchase was a new (vintage) dresser, that I fell in love with online...and then fell in LOVE with after Dustin redid.

We were about two seconds away from painting it and I panicked, feeling like we owed it to the dresser to try refinishing it first. And I'm so thankful we did (ok...Dustin did all of it. But "we" were a part of the vision, which is basically 90% of any project). It's seriously stunning...and I haven't even gotten the thrill of filling it with teeny tiny clothes yet, so I know I'll fall even more in love with it.

He also made a desk to fill that awkward "nook", and created the prettiest striped-wood shelves to display my treasures. He's a good daddy (and husband, and woodworker, and human), that guy.

(One more quick backstory...we bought a "new" crib on craigslist...we already had one for the room, but we had to have two available in order to be certified for two kiddos. And when Dustin went to get it, he found out the people selling it were running a resale business to raise money for their adoption. I mean...does it get better than that?)

The rest of the room came together pretty easily, as we just rearranged, and swapped stuff, and swapped again, and rearranged again. Even after the main pieces were in place, I kept futzing...changing artwork, adding knick-knacks...But the foundation is there...ready for this "someday" to become "now"...

So speaking of now...what you're really here for, and wondering...

What now?

Well. We're certified. Which means we're legally allowed to take in foster placements. We get the same questions every time we talk about it, and they go a little something like this: 
How does it work? When will you get a kid? How old will they be? How many can you take? Where will they go during the day? Are you going to adopt them? What if you have to give them back? 
As you can imagine, the answers to some of these questions are simpler than others. But here's the gist: 

We're certified through a private agency. When the county (technically any county surrounding Central Ohio, but most likely will be Franklin) has to remove a child from a home, they call all the agencies in the area (there are many) and give the details they have to determine what homes might be available and a good fit. (depending on the circumstance they might know a lot about the child, or nearly nothing. They might have some advance notice that they're going to need a placement, or it can be a sudden emergency. The answer to most questions in foster care is: it varies.) Then each agency calls their families that have space, and meet the criteria for the particular case (open to that age/number of kids, particular need etc.). If they call us, we can accept or decline. If we accept, our agency goes back to the county with our do all of the other agencies. Then the county chooses what they believe to be the best match. 

So- to boil it down- for us to receive a placement- we'd have to be contacted, say yes, and then be chosen. 

And even then, it could fall through, if the situation changes, family members are located, etc. etc. Again...we're already learning that this whole thing is a little....fluid

As a part of our paperwork, we were asked hundreds (seriously) of questions about the types of children we felt equipped to care for. This covered everything from age, to race, to behavioral information, to legal circumstances. 

Legally, we are certified for 1-2 kids, ages 0-5. We went with 2 so that we could take in sibling sets if needed. So we could be called about a newborn, or a preschooler...we just don't know. The plan is for any of our future kiddos to attend the same daycare/school our current kids do. That's obviously a little tricky logistically, so that may be one of the biggest hurdles in this whole thing (besides, you know...just everything which still feels a little/lot daunting). So if/when we get a call we'll have to evaluate if it's a good fit for our family at that time...and make our decision from there. That may mean we get a placement immediately, we may say yes (repeatedly) and not get selected, and we may have to wait, for our own reasons, or for others.
It's a whole lot of...we'll see...

The goal of foster care is first and foremost family reunification. It is designed to hopefully allow families the opportunity for healing, learning and development to allow them to create a safe and healthy environment to have their kids back in their home.

So we are prepared to love these kids...and also let them go. That's the way the system is designed, even if I worry that my heart might not be. It's our goal (and our fervent prayer, because we're going to need that...) to be supportive of the reunification process whenever possible, loving not only the child, but the whole biological family in any way we're called to and able.

But of course reunification isn't always possible, and in those circumstances, the case would likely transition to adoption. Our certification is for foster-to-adopt, meaning that if we had a child placed with us who became available for adoption, then we would be able to pursue that if we chose (no guarantees that they'd stay with us, but it's at least an option/possibility).

There are a thousand other FAQs...either that we are asked, or that we are constantly asking...And most of those get a lot tougher. Those are the ones that start out like:
Can they...How will you...What about...But what if...
And that is the messier, heart wrenching part of all of it because the answer to almost all of those is some variation of "I don't know." And sometimes the answer is just, "No one knows."

This is where the "ruckus" comes in. We're stepping out into the unknown. We have more questions than answers, more fears than facts, more doubts than...well, anything else. I don't know what this is going to look like...I honestly still don't know if this is going to look like anything. But I desperately hope it does. I hope that someone shows up, unannounced, and changes everything for us. I hope for my heart to be expanded, I want my faith to be tested, I need my perspective to be upended.

I want that ruckus to shake up my safe and comfortable life, and teach me how to give more, pray more, love more...than I ever thought I could. And that is a terrifying thing to want...because what if it happens?

On Monday, we got a call that we were certified. And on Tuesday, we got a call to see if we could take a child over the weekend (to help out another foster family). They ended up figuring out a solve for that situation before we even needed to consider it, but that was a reminder for me. At any moment, while I'm doing...whatever I'm doing...there are kids all around this city- families all around this world- going through crisis. One phone call like that may change everything for us...and for them.

We're ready...

Vintage: Suitcases, rollerskates, clock, scarves, blocks, dresser
Goodwill: Flash cards (in frame), desk chair, painting
Handmade/gifts: Poetry art, shelves, desk, quilt, crib skirt
Urban Outfitters: Rug, white frames, crib sheet
Target: Lamp, grey felt bins, drawer pulls, whale dish
Michael's: Faux wood frames
Ikea: storage bench
Homegoods: Curtains

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Monday, June 5, 2017

Date Day

Date night. Every married couple knows that should be a priority...but it's hard to make happen. (Work schedules, packed calendars, babysitter conflicts, etc. etc. etc.) And then even if you can get out for a bit, it's usually an hour or two in the evening, which may or may not be your best time to connect (soooooo tired). I'm always thankful for time alone with Dustin, but I don't necessarily love the options date night affords us. It feels like it always has to be squeezed into the two hours after the kids' bedtime (and before it gets crazy late for a sitter), or we go out earlier and I feel like we're over-burdening someone with the task of watching all three gila monsters during the witching hours. And never mind that the expense of a babysitter pretty much doubles the cost of whatever date activity we choose (which- tragically unoriginal alert- is usually just dinner). (OR we feel bad about taking advantage of free babysitting again from my family, even though they swear they don't mind).  Plus there's the guilt of missing time with the kiddos, when we're already away from them the bulk of most days. So yeah. Love a date night. Don't always manage to make it happen.

But we do try to squeeze in time here and there and take advantage of what we have, so during a (rare) impromptu lunch together the other day, we decided we should take a day off, randomly, just the two of us. We've got the time to spare at work, and with Piper back at daycare with the other kids for the Summer, we've got all-day care already lined up (and paid for!) So last Friday, we took advantage of the most expensive "free" babysitting we'll ever have, and had a Date Day. Just one day; just the two of us. No plans; no kids. (And no burden, no guilt.)

While a big-time date is pretty rare around here...documenting it is even more rare. I don't suspect many will care about the ins and outs of our simple day together...but I know I'll cherish being able to look back at the ordinary magic of our life in this season. So I'm making the time to date that man I love, and taking the time to record a little bit of why it's so special to me.


We wanted to make the most of our day together, so we got the kids up, fed, and off to daycare around our regular time in the morning. 8:30AM still seemed a little early to start a date, so I took advantage of some solo time while Dustin did drop off, and took a shower without anyone watching/tattletaling on someone/opening the shower door to have me "fix" Barbie's shoe. Similarly, Dustin enjoyed a quick trip to Home Depot, that was both actually quick and sans any sort of shrieking or injury. Date Day hadn't officially started, and it was already my favorite day.

Now on to the heart of the matter...

First up: Bikes!
Kidding. Never.
But a certain 3.95 year old I know is looking a little bit like a circus bear on her tricycle, so a new birthday bicycle gift was in order for Fin. We hit up Once Upon A Child (aka: my happy place) for a new-to-her gem. It has streamers, a carrier for a baby, and a bell. $25 well spent.
(and yes, I realize it's a little lame to spend date-day shopping for our kids, but we kept the trip short, and it was such a specialize mission it didn't feel like we were wasting our time together running routine errands).

So, the day was already a wild success, and it was only 10am. Yes!

The night before, I had done a last minute search for local Groupons, and found that the mini-golf place we planned to go to (because you know we were going to play some mini-golf) had a deal for buy-one-get-one free golf plus 10 rounds batting cage tokens. So though I haven't swung a bat in 10+ years (maybe 20+?) we gave it a shot. I stuck to softball and "slow baseball" (dang elementary school kids, hogging the "very slow" option), while Dustin handled "medium". We were in no danger of anyone scouting us, but it was fun change of pace to try something different together.

Next it was on to the main event...Mini-golf is hands down my favorite date activity, day or night. It's silly, competitive, and just super fun. The course was actually a little crowded (first day of Summer vacay for local kids) which worked out great...we got to enjoy some extra sunshine, and had time to talk (in between golf related trash-talk, of course). We chatted about all kinds of things, but ended up talking a lot about plans (and wild visions) we have for our family in the future. So thankful for a man I can play with a dream with, simultaneously.

Photographic evidence we were tied at the turn...I'm not sure who ended up winning. (except I'm totally sure, and I don't want to talk about it). 

It was barely lunch time (thanks for the early wakeup, kids!) but who's stopping us from finding a nearby spot for some pre-noon beers (and burgers)? No one, that's who. We hit up the new Northstar, and ate super slow, and didn't have to cut up, wipe up, or blow on anything. Glorious.
I'd be lying if I said we didn't talk about work...because actually I think we spent nearly the entire meal discussing that. But what a gift to have someone who understands the 9-5...This is the second time we've worked together, and I honestly cherish the shared perspective it gives us. (Plus there is no way he'd endure nearly as much of my complaining if he wasn't in similar trenches).

We headed home after that (mostly to change into looser pants...still not sorry about all the guac.) But on our way, I of course spotted a little curb-side gem we had to snag. Ain't no shame in my trash picking game (seriously...Dustin wishes there was any shame in it. But alas. There is none). Only issue? The shelf I spotted was far too big for our car (even if we didn't have a bike with us already...) So with no words, and a mercifully subtle eye-roll, Dustin hopped out, picked it up, and walked the two blocks home.

This guy is the muscle to my hustle all day every day. This is him requesting that I not document this shenanigans. But the world needs to know how much he loves me (and how much I love him for it).

And with our second second-hand score of the day in the bag, it was time for more golf...this time of the disc variety.

We made a quick stop at Play-It-Again Sports (it turns out the unofficial theme of the day is bargain fun!) for some cheap drivers and putters (chosen solely based on their ridiculous graphics), and then headed out for the course.

I pretty much haven't played since high school (I actually used to play pretty frequently back then...not because I was great at it, or tremendously passionate about the sport. But my friends were super into it, so I was happy enough to go along for the ride) and I think Dustin and I have only played once or twice together, if that.

We went to a course I've never tried before, and it was seriously magical. And not just in a sappy "I love my date" way...I mean the forest actually looked enchanted.

It was the most perfect weather ever, and we had a blast hiking around for an hour or so, trying our best to keep our new discs out of the water (and taking awkwardly balanced self-timer shots). At this point we honestly didn't really talk much...which is probably (ok, definitely) rare for me. But it's a special kind of comfortable to just enjoy each other...just being.
(side note: I feel a little hind-sight dorkiness about our semi-matching/semi-competing Ohio State and Eagles gear.)

He didn't let me win, but gave me credit where it was due, and I only ended up owing him two wager related backrubs for the day. Sooooo, could have been worse.

And since we were just a few minutes from my fave ice cream place, we had to make a stop at Sticky Fingers. (I didn't even have to ask for eyes. Love that).

By now it was late afternoon and we had our fill of sun and games. Typically I'd try to carve out time for a nap...either out of necessity, or just on principle, but maybe keeping up with three kids has upped my endurance, because at this point I still felt...pretty rested. (We did lounge for a few minutes and have the obligatory "what in the world did we do before we had kids?...But like, really?...Whatever we wanted?....Like, all day?..." conversation. It's only been a few years, but still, I can barely remember the rhythm of full days without children.) We had a little time before we needed to fetch the whippersnappers, so I set out to tackle an art project that had been looming/lagging in our garage for a few days (or weeks? hard to say...) Having some uninterrupted work time? Priceless.

And just like that...our Date Day drew to a close (and the typical manic merry-go-round of dinnertime/playtime/bathtime/bedtime resumed). One day wasn't enough (could never be enough) but it was still so much. It may need to become a regular occurrence. We may not be able to get a full day away very often, but early-out "Summer Fridays" could afford us a couple of hours alone each week...Don't mind if we do

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