It was one year ago today that The Destroyer and the Monster returned to their birth mother via the Department of Child Services. At the time, I wondered if I'd ever get over the worry, the fear, the depression of it all.
In eleven months those two tiny tyrants raised my blood pressure, helped me pack on fifteen pounds, and drove us all mad.
The also made me a better person.
In the year since they left I've lost thirty pounds, been gainfully employed, and realized that forty is a terrific age.
During this year I've been reminded that I am a failure and I've lost friends, but I made new ones as well.
My babies are nearly grown and I am proud of the young man and young woman they have become. My Beloved is healthy and gainfully employed and I'm making peace with FIL (again).
I miss those two little tyrants. I miss their funny jokes, their blondie hair, and all the fun times. But I don't miss the bad: the tantrums, the screaming, their dirty return from a visit with their mother.
There are 8000 children currently in foster care in my state. That's shocking. Still more shocking is the simple fact that there are NOT enough homes for these displaced children.
It makes me feel guilty.
It makes me angry.
Then yesterday a message was left for me from DCS. I message that they wanted to talk. It could only mean one thing: Foster parenting.
All night long I've thought about that message and what it could mean. I shivered with fear, knowing how hard foster care is.
All things considered, I don't know what to think. I suppose I should simply call them and find out exactly what they want. There may be something to consider.
It may send me screaming into the night.