#Dubs and #BabyP

I’ve wanted to update the blog about our girls for a while, but it’s hard to know where to start. The first week or two is a whirlwind, so it’s hard to find time, but after that it’s been so long I don’t know how to begin without simply recapping the last five weeks. So I will just start with right now.

Our oldest (2yo), affectionately known as #Dubs (copyright Elizabeth Hyndman), has to fall asleep on me in order to go to bed. With foster kids, as long as it’s not a danger to them or anyone else, and doesn’t actively destroy something, we try to just say “yes” and do what it takes to make them feel safe. So every night we go through the bedtime routine and then I lie down in the bottom bunk with her on my chest as she falls asleep, then gradually wiggle free (place an arm here, move a leg there, scootch my bottom out, then slide my arm out and pray) after she’s in a good REM cycle.

It’s those moments it really starts to sink in that this probably won’t be forever. I can feel her heart beating against mine, her breath rising and falling. The fact that she is sprawled across me or snuggled up to the crook of my neck — me, someone she met only weeks ago and trusted almost instantly — is not lost on me. Right now, she’s not screaming for me to pick her up while I’m already holding an adorable 6 month old (#BabyP). She’s not pouting about telling her to sit down when she is on the slide or squealing in delight as she turns the light switch on and off. She’s just sleeping. And don’t all kids just instantly become innocent angels when they sleep? All past tantrums are bygones.

I rested my temple against her forehead and felt her breath on my cheek. This may be psychopath behavior; I’m not sure. It could just be a creepy thing parents do. Either way, I did it, because I wanted to remember it. I just wanted to remember having her next to me, breathing, resting, while the world is quiet and so are we. 

I’m not her mama. I’ve met her mama (who has been very kind to us, by the way) and #Dubs knows that’s who she is. She loves her mom, that much is clear. And her mom is determined to get them back, which of course, she should. But all signs point to this not being forever. God can do amazing things, though, so who knows, but for now I just wanted to fully be present and experience the blessing of being mom to these sweet girls.

We love them to the moon and back. Sometimes I just want to literally squeeze them until they pop. Is that another psychopath red flag? JUST BE COOL. 

But for now, we are Lala and Craig to some dear, sweet babies and we are choosing to live in deep denial that this will ever not be our lives.

Here are some fun facts about our girls, as a reward for making it this far into my blabbering.

Baby P’s little smile will make you die inside in the best way. Her giggle? Forget about it. God help you if her nose wrinkles at the same time. She might have the cutest face I’ve ever seen on an infant. I’m not kidding. She’s a tiny little nugget. She’s 6 months old but wearing 3 month clothes. The lady at day care calls P her “tater tot,” and that could not be a more accurate description. She’s content as can be 90% of the time, and she loves our cats and dog. You should see her light up when she sees Macy, and she lets Macy lick her right in the face. She and Clara are also BFFs. Beckett still has his reservations. She has learned to roll over back and forth, and she is determined to crawl soon, in which case we will be in trouble. Her toes fascinate her, and she recently discovered she does not like carrots. She is only getting up once at night now from about 7:30 to 7:30, which is amazing, and she looks cute in jeggings and hair bows. She is the absolute best.

Dubs is a firecracker in every sense of the term. She flies super high and swoops super low in a single bound. She’s a weird weirdo who is weird, and we love it. She loves music and has some ridiculous dance moves. She climbs on a stool in our house and addresses Beckett as if she’s some sort of evil dictator on a stage addressing her minions in this gravelly voice speaking gibberish. It is the weirdest, most hilarious, most endearing thing ever. She says “cheese” whenever she sees a phone, and she can match pitch when you hum. She knows her way around a fork and never met a string cheese she didn’t like. If you count to three and yell “go!” she will run into your arms giggling. If she’s hiding from you, you’ll know exactly where she is because she can’t contain her giggles. She will also giggle if you chase her down the hall. She can climb up the side of a jungle gym with the agility of a kid a year older than her, and she loves to pretend. She chose the most terrifying toy of all time when given a few options at court the other day, which did not surprise me one bit. She likes to help feed the animals and has a love/hate relationship with Macy, who is always eating her veggie straws and cheese out of her hands and generally being in her way. She loves being outside and is fearless when it comes to slides, no matter how tall. I put all the toys in bins, and the blocks in the zipped-up bag they came in at the end of the day, which she promptly dumps out in the morning just for the joy of it and does not play with. She loves playing with other kids and will follow them around like a puppy if they allow it. She eats ketchup with a spoon. She pulls her hair ties out on the reg, much to my chagrin because she looks so cute with pig tails and bows, but apparently they ruin her vibe. She also looks cute in jeggings and she is also the absolute best.

So that’s our girls in a nutshell (a rather large, overgrown nutshell). This, for the record, is our longest placement by far, and we will miss them with excruciating fervor if/when they leave. But like I said — deep denial, guys. Deep denial.


P.S. Our community in Nashville has been overwhelmingly sweet to our kids (Dubs' birthday party was filled with our friends) and generous to us over the last month or so, and we could not be more thankful.