What's Different?

Since becoming a “middle mom” as I like to say to avoid always using the sometimes negatively viewed “foster” term.. A lot about me has changed. I thought I would share with you what becoming someone else’s child’s parental figure makes you feel.. maybe becoming a becoming a biological mom has the same effect.. I wouldn’t know yet :)


I really don’t care what you think about me.
Now, that is true to an extent. There was a time that I would do what I thought others wanted from me regardless of how it made me feel. I would put my feelings very last in an effort to be “approved of” by others. That time has passed. I find myself doing more and more things (or less and less things) to preserve my sanity. Because if you don’t live in my house, or you aren’t my immediate family.. your needs have to come second. I want to be happy. I want my children to be happy. I want Tim and my parents and grandparents to be happy. If I have to sacrifice to make that happen, then I gladly will. But I can no longer try to keep EVERYONE happy with me. It isn’ t rational to believe everyone will like you, accept you, approve of you, it isn’t happening.


Knee scrapes, hurt feelings, and understanding that you really deep down matter are a much bigger deal.

I am super sensitive. But I will admit that when watching mothers when their children—to an extent I have thought a lot of them were a little dramatic. I mean is the fact that your child tripped really a big deal? Is it that terrible that they didn’t get the color sucker they wanted? Do you really have to tell them how special they are every five minutes? And I know now.. the answer is yes. That knee might not hurt that much.. but pride is hurt.. and a little fear about falling again is involved. The sucker color isn’t major, but the fact that they haven’t napped or eaten on time in two days plays a part—so at this point—yes, we need a red sucker. And I catch myself making sure my children know that I love them constantly. It’s not that I think they will forget if I don’t tell them constantly—but I think there is a lot to say for really knowing that someone loves you without exceptions all the time.


It’s okay. Stare.

To see the way people look at us sometimes is priceless. I have come to love it. They stare. I smile. They give a rude look. I smile. They whisper. I smile. If you haven’t seen our current family. We don’t all look the same. Some of us are a beautiful brown color, some of us have been hitting the tanning bed, and the rest of us are plain ole white. Sometimes when people talk about us my mom or grandmom want us to go to them and explain. I just don’t. I don’t think that it matters, and I think that the whole world could stand being a little more tolerant. If I get to help teach that lesson, I am happy to do it. Let’s be real. God made everybody. God loves everybody. I believe that heaven will be as colorful as a rainbow. So its okay, stare.

More to come :)