lessons in pseudo-parenthood

On June 14, I became a stepmom. On March 21, I became a (temporary) foster mom.

I feel like I've been everything but just mom.

Part of me yearns to be "just mom." The little things quicken my clock.

These are my favorite Texas flowers so far. After weeks of admiring them from the Jeep, I was able to look at them up close while taking a walk.

Our friends' sweet 18 month old saying, "Hi!" when I came home from class recently (Alan was watching our youngest foster child and babysitting for our friends) and our youngest foster child climbing onto the couch to snuggle with me--not all moments are difficult.

Shopping for baby clothes with my friend--she's expecting again. Meanwhile, I want to stash them away in a hope chest.

Trying to decide if a jogging stroller and diaper pail would be worth the investment--I need an athletic outlet. I wanted to buy them now with the hopes that we will someday have use for them again, but as far as the stroller goes, I realized I could just wake up earlier and exercise at home. And as for the diaper pail, we're down to UnderJams and about one accident a day.

Potty successes. They seriously make my day.

Heating dinosaur chicken nuggets and cutting up hot dogs the way my aunt used to, even though I'm preparing a vegan meal for myself.

Connecting with our oldest foster child.

Praying on the drive to school each morning, turning on K-Love. Hoping the words minister, praying that something sinks in, wondering if my mom thought the same things when we grew up listening to our local Christian radio station.

Constantly reminding that not all bugs need to be killed, and everything in nature needs to be put back exactly where it was found. Thinking of my aunt.

Cooking with a curious onlooker who ties my apron strings. Remembering my grandmother and her apron, and watching countless meals being prepared in her kitchen.

Remembering to be patient when someone is being independent--I don't ever recall my grandfather being impatient with me.

Hearing my speech revert to the colloquial Pennsylvania Dutchisms my grandparents, aunt, mom, and extended family sometimes use--and realizing that I would totally talk to my own children like that.

          "There's more back."
                    "It's all."
                              "Come here, onst."

I want my own opportunity to train and rear and teach and guide.

A friend's mom blessed us by filling up my gas tank. With my weekly gas budget more than double what it normally is, her act of service was a major blessing.

But, through this experience, I have also learned to be content where God has us.

To never again take for granted the time that Alan and I have together as a couple (or the time that I have to myself).

To be grateful that finishing assignments minutes before I leave for class and turning in work that is far from my best will not be a forever thing.

To continue reading as many parenting books as I can find and to ask for advice from as many parents as I meet.

To be grateful for those times when I can be in the car by myself and go to the store by myself.

By myself.

To understand the vague semblance of attention one sometimes pays while in class (or at work), knowing that there are little ones and a spouse waiting at home.

In the midst of this situation, I'm not quite sure what lessons God has in mind for Alan and me to learn. But, I'm learning to trust in His timing and His plan.

  
EDIT: Oh my goodness, it's not even Monday. What was I thinking?