Project
D and I have been seriously considering foster parenting for a long time. We are finally getting to the doing part of the process to become foster parents, and specifically we are signing up to do fost-adopt, in which we would only be given a child who is adoptable and will not be removed from us once it is placed. We are asking for a baby without special needs—I know all babies need good homes, but I also know our limitations. The packet from the agency has arrived, so we are now working throught the requirements. I need a fresh TB test, an updated CPR certification, and although I am a teacher, I need to be fingerprinted again. Plus, there are a lot of things that need to happen in the house before we get our home inspection. We need to lock up all the cleaners, make sure we have the right kind of fire extinguishers and first aid kits, and get the room ready, of course.
The room is the big project. Big, as in the entire house is a disaster because that room used to be my office, and now is not. Why is it that when I try to empty one room, suddenly every other room in the house looks like the collection zone at the Salvation Army and the trash bin holds more than I thought was in the room to begin with? For not being a terribly sentimental person, I have amassed a quantity of stuff that clouds my mind and leaves me feeling daunted when I try to sort through everything. D has graciously agreed to give me space for a bookcase in his office. I can write bills as easily from the dining table as from a seperate desk. And there are bins worth of books (three large so far) that I cannot part with, but whose spines I do not need to stare at regularly. They will be stored in the garage.
The kid room (not calling it a nursery for some reason—baby steps) is emerging from the chaos of the rest of the house. I'll post pictures when it looks like something remotely inviting. For now, it has a crib, a bookshelf, a twin bed for lounging on while hanging with the baby, and an idea about colors and paint that we are moving toward (browns ranging from tan to chocolate and shades of either blue or pink, depending on what we get). But not today. Today, we need to leave the mess and play outside.
The room is the big project. Big, as in the entire house is a disaster because that room used to be my office, and now is not. Why is it that when I try to empty one room, suddenly every other room in the house looks like the collection zone at the Salvation Army and the trash bin holds more than I thought was in the room to begin with? For not being a terribly sentimental person, I have amassed a quantity of stuff that clouds my mind and leaves me feeling daunted when I try to sort through everything. D has graciously agreed to give me space for a bookcase in his office. I can write bills as easily from the dining table as from a seperate desk. And there are bins worth of books (three large so far) that I cannot part with, but whose spines I do not need to stare at regularly. They will be stored in the garage.
The kid room (not calling it a nursery for some reason—baby steps) is emerging from the chaos of the rest of the house. I'll post pictures when it looks like something remotely inviting. For now, it has a crib, a bookshelf, a twin bed for lounging on while hanging with the baby, and an idea about colors and paint that we are moving toward (browns ranging from tan to chocolate and shades of either blue or pink, depending on what we get). But not today. Today, we need to leave the mess and play outside.
posted by marcy at 7:14 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home