I'm a saint!
A wonderful person.
It seems that not week goes by without someone, friend, foe or stranger, telling me how amazing we are for taking in two "special" children. It's getting to the point that I no longer mention that we are adopting the girls. I can withhold this information from strangers simply because the girls look very similar to us. Except for Hay-Hay that is, who looks almost identical to me. Funny that.
I wish people could see that we are the lucky ones. The girls have breathed new life into our family. It isn't just the middle school drama and the piles of laundry. It's more than double Lacrosse games every.single.Saturday. Yes, so much more.
When Girl started college, Beloved and I had fun. Lots of fun. Lots and lots of lots of fun...for about 6 months. After that, we watched too much television. We puttered around the house. We talked about joining a gym, but never did. I noted that we were turning into our parents and we were in our early 40's for Pete's sake!
We didn't have a purpose and even though we said we were going to go on adventures, we didn't. We just watched television and went to happy hour and worked.
When the girls moved in, boring moved out. Life has been full throttle ever since. Life is much more, dare I say, sweeter than before? (Since I've thrown this out there, you can expect an exasperated post in the near future!)
We are not saints. We are moody. We are tired. Sometimes, we are fed up. We jump to conclusions. We react instead of think. Occasionally, we remind each other that there are only "x" amount of years left before they leave for college. There are meals of boxed mac and cheese and far too much ice cream.
I complain about dirty dishes and laundry and bad attitudes. I repeat the same mantra every morning: brush your teeth, feed the animals, make your beds, did you pack a snack, where are your shoes?! Why can you NOT remember to do these things????
Would you think it awful if I told you that sometimes I yell? Me? I've never been a yeller. Sigh.
In the midst of the chaos stands my little family, held together by a wish and a prayer.
I am not a hero. I am a mom. I am doing the best I can with what I have. Often times, I'm wrong. I'm cranky. I'm sarcastic.
But I'm blessed. So very, very blessed.
To those who think I'm some kind of Mother Theresa, please keep your mighty praise for someone else. For those who constantly say, "I'm so glad you are doing this...I never could take in other people's children." I challenge you to reword what you are saying. You could do it, but your are choosing not to and that's fine. Just please stop making it sound like I'm curing cancer or negotiating world peace.
And for that one guy who never misses an opportunity to tell my daughters how "lucky" they are...Jack, you better back the heck up, because I'm about to tell you a thing or two.
Now, if you'll pardon my, I've been nominated for Mother-of-the-Year and I need to write my acceptance speech.