Considering the definitive take-away from all those foster parent classes was essentially love fully but don't get too attached, and we know you're going to get attached anyway so just be ready to have your heart broken in a way you never thought possible, you'd think getting attached to my social worker would be the least of my problems.
I loved our social worker, I mean really. He made me feel calm and relaxed and assured that everything neurotic I was thinking was going to be okay. I never felt patronized or belittled, but mostly by the end of it all, after the classes that he taught and all the secrets I told him from the depths of my emotional skeletons, I felt like he understood me, and Brian, he knew us. He had been to our house multiple times, he saw the kid room, he saw our tiny bathroom, he saw it all and I had a sense that he was looking out for us, whether this is a thing that's supposed to happen or not. Certainly the foster family is way on down the list of who needs nurturing. But we do, the neurotic ones (like me) do.
So everything is done and sent off and we're just waiting for word that we got our license. And that day came and it was a happy day but bittersweet. In the same email our social worker said he was promoted. We now have an interim social worker until we get a new permanent social worker. And then we didn't hear anything for like 3 years (I mean weeks).
Our paper license came in the mail with our interim social worker's business card. And then more crickets, more waiting. And it's not like I didn't expect crickets, I know we picked a popular age range. Everybody wants a baby, right? So crickets, nothing, and I, the girl who can't stand waiting, needed something so I started setting dates, if nothing happens by this date I will... It helps me, even if that date comes and I do nothing. The date is way out there so don't panic. I just like having a sense of control when there is no control to be found.
Then Brian calls me yesterday and says our social worker called and asked if we wanted to take in a 10 year old and a 12 year old. And it's just been bothering me ever sense.
I was under the impression there was some data base somewhere with our names and brief note like "she stays home" and our age range. That there was a rhyme or reason behind every call. That a child would be in need and all the social workers are sitting around eating salads and one says, "I know who will be perfect for that child!" and the phone call is made.
Apparently this is not the case. And if it's not the case how will a proper match ever possible to be made? How are we on a 10 and 12 year old list? We don't even have twin beds, we have 1 tiny bathroom. I own a rattle. This whole thing is just starting to freak me out again. I'm just setting more dates, trying to calm myself. This can happen, right? Did we waste all that time? Do I have a nursery in my house for nothing?