Someone left Nickelodeon on and the noise annoys me, but if I walk ten feet over to snap it off, someone will spring into sight and turn it back on. My daughter is playing outside wearing a pink skort with yellow dots, cotton shirt, and black parka. She is not wearing socks or shoes. Two of my boys are in the Boy Cave playing video games, sniffing the air and wondering when they’ll be allowed to eat breakfast burritos. The cubed potatoes are still cooking. Three or four stray boys are playing here, too. And it sounds like someone is upstairs, though I have no idea who that might be.
In half an hour, my husband will pick up our 9-year old and take him to football practice. Before then, I will fish his stained polyester pants from the dryer, insert the pads and lace him into his protective gear. When they leave, I will inform the neighborhood kids that it’s time to go home. My teenagers will shower (oh, how I hope they shower) and I’ll drive them to church for youth group.
When I return home with my chatty daughter, I’ll read (On Writing Well
by Zinsser) while she showers.
How I look forward to that moment.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
I may have different things to go through, but I know that “moment” all too well. Hope yours was blissful.
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Sorry about this but I got stuck on the part where you said that the football pants were stained. Really? Good, I’m not alone. DO they expect us to get those things clean? Why, oh why are ours white to begin with? Can you tell me that?
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Isnt that just how it goes? We shooed the neighbor kids out so we could have dinner tonight and later found one still lurking in the garage not wanting to go home. Hubby shooed him out without mercy and closed the overhead door after him. Sometimes I feel sorry for some of the neighbor kids. They just dont like their home. It makes me wonder what goes on there.
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I loved this run-down of your life. I loved the “black parka” and “And it sounds like someone is upstairs, though I have no idea who that might be.” See ya.
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Mrs. Darling,
That is so sad. It too makes me wonder what is going on in their home. It also makes me see that your home is a safe haven for those children. God bless.
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http://www.aprilmassad.blogspot.com/
There is a story on this blog today that I think you would absolutely relate to and love. It is so you to me. Its from today’s date and it starts out with “Thanks Trisha”
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My husband’s sister is adopted also. I still am amazed at times that she and my husband were raised in the same house. Everything about them is different, and I do mean everything! I wonder sometiems if she learned anything at all from my MIL! I know I’ll raise the ire of every adoptive parent out there, but when we found out we couldn’t have kids (I have 2 from a former marriage), he refused to adopt because it’s a “crapshoot” on who you get. I was furious at the time. Still am when I think about that, but I don’t love him any less. You can’t make someone love a child any more than you can make a child love you. It’s a good thing he didn’t do it, just to please me.
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