It is no secret that when you foster or adopt there is a rigorous plan laid out before you to ensure the safety of the child. While I can appreciate and respect that it doesn’t change the fact that the rules of being a licensed parent versus a birth parent is vastly different.
As a foster parent we’ve had to jump through the fire, so to speak. From putting a lock on our stove to anchoring furniture it’s been interesting days in the Flores hale*.
Today has been no different.
Today I ordered our fire extinguisher. A shiny red machine that can be used for both fire extinguishing and knocking a robber out cold if I can manage to get close enough. I will probably find space in our already crowded kitchen cabinets.
I also almost ordered my husband a roll away. He’s been wanting one for his tools for as long as I could remember. Being on this journey only gives me more reason to grant his wish. It’s probably the only reason he’s FINALLY getting me to consider buying him one. In truth, I just want him to get all his crazy RC parts off my cocktail table and dining table.
I began to also create the “Information Binder.” The binder that will hold all of little one’s personal information. Just in case because, you know, I’ll be one of those paranoid parents. But, it’ll hold every form, every picture, every experience that little one will have. Since fostering is all about reunification as the first step of permanency the memories aren’t just for me, it’ll be for the bio parents upon little one’s return if that is the plan. But really, it’s because I’m a hoarder.
We also have to create a 72 hour emergency kit. This seemed odd but I mean I get it. I can use the distraction so this afternoon I’m gonna hightail it out of the office a little early to go bug out bag hunting. I’m sure I’ll keep myself so busy this weekend that I’m gonna poop myself out. Definitely the perfect weekend.
What else do I need in case of emergencies? I asked my family about a crib bumper. First of all, what? Isn’t it okay that the little one accidentally realizes that the crib rails aren’t cotton? I mean, that’s how I learned. What about little one not being able to have nothing in the crib with them? I get the whole swaddling but not even a wedge? So much to learn just to be licensed to parent. Driver’s Ed wasn’t this hard. But, then again I didn’t take Driver’s Ed.
Ah, the joys of becoming a parent. I really hope my licensor isn’t reading this. xoxo
*Learn a new language. In this case, Hawaiian. Hale = house. You’re welcome.