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Sane, successful working woman; Smart, Organized, Reliable, Put- Together, Trendy, Fun

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Older, rundown look-alike invader; Probably a woman, but hairier and disheveled from lack of attention to basic daily needs; Altered speech, unable to complete full sentences- prone to rambling; Chaotic in thought and action- loses things, forgets names, locks keys in car, at times deodorizes only one underarm. Scowls at loud noises and twitches when name is said in high pitches. Unable to spell F-U-N.

    Either I'm too insane to realize it, or I'm sane enough to know that I'm heading toward insanity. Not that one is better than the other, but I'm almost hoping for insanity so that I have something to plead when I am finally committed to the institution of my husband's choosing. These, you may say, are the words from a loving mother? Shame, shame, shame!! Perhaps I'm still too new to Mommyhood to understand the "pure joy" and "unequivical satisfaction" that comes along with parenting two precious little gems. Or perhaps the rest of the population is raising a generation of perfectly trained robots that follow one's every command. Or maybe it's that I am choosing to verbalize the things that we, as mothers, feel we are not supposed to say for fear of looking like failures. But let me start from the beginning...

     For almost 2 years, my husband and I have been trying to have a child. (Awwww...) After many successful attempts (thank you, sir!) yet unsuccessful conceptions, we chose to foster children. With both of our advanced degrees in working with kids, mental illness, and "the system", we figured we'd be good as gold as parents. Five months ago we were blessed with two little ones (Cameron-6, Taylor-4/45). Instantly, we were hooked. Our caseworker informed us that these children would probably be up for adoption and they would like us to take them. Thank Jesus, our prayers had been answered! We were a ready-made family... put together a little sloppily and hastily, but a family nevertheless.

     And then the attachment issues set in. And the behaviors escalated. And we found ourselves trying to love kids that we only just met, that struggle to love us back, and that make us want to play in traffic (at 5pm on an interstate). As an informed therapist and God-fearing woman, I try desperately to curb my seemingly Bipolar swings that range from loving to hating children on a daily basis.... but I've found myself falling short. In fact, just today I've grounded the children to their rooms 4 times (so far), locked myself in my own room twice, threatened to take away all their toys and give them to the neighborhood kids, and I all but promised to disassemble their beds and reassemble them in the yard if they touch that poison ivy one more time 'cause GOD KNOWS YOU'RE NOT COMING INTO MY HOUSE WITH THAT STUFF!!!! 

     Sorry about that, I thought I was talking to the kids for a second! So.... where does this insane, frazzled existence leave me? Well, it leaves me writing this blog, telling the world my flaws, and rejoicing with other parents (come on, you didn't think I was gonna exclude daddy's from the mix, did you?) who feel this same way and who may or may not be feeling successful for the day! Your own funny stories, parenting mishaps, and insane moments are unabashedly welcome at this blog. If you're a parent that cannot possibly understand why putting beds in the yard is the only possible solution to poison-ivy-fondling, then this blog may not be for you ;)

Sincerely,

Striving For Sanity

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