Yesterday during a conversation with the Singer my other phone rang. Looking at the caller-ID I noted that it was from a local hospital. Hmmm. Nothing gets a heart racing faster than thinking a loved one is at the hospital. Especially if that hospital is the trauma hospital for our area. I quickly hung up with my BFF and answered the house phone.
"Hello," said the cheery woman on the other end, "Is this the Destroyers Mother?"
For those of you who don't know, I was a foster mom for 11 months to the Z-Monster and The Destroyer. It was really hard when they went home. Not that it was all sugar and spice when they were here. Those two tiny tyrants gave me a run for my money (and my sanity) but it doesn't mean that I didn't love them and don't miss them to this very day.
"Um...I use to be her foster mom. The girls returned home last spring."
Apparently my name was the one they had on file. Nothings wrong, as far as I know, but you know what? That phone call felt like a kidney punch. I thought about it all day and I'm still thinking about it.
And I don't really know why...