I am sure everyone who is reading this (mainly, my Mom) knows me and therefore understands my strong desire for Control. I really love predictability and thrive on a schedule. Don’t even get me started on my beloved filofax.

I really enjoy spontaneity, when I have planned for it. From meal plans to budgets to religious practices (like church and weekend Costco trips) there is a plan. If you have ever visited us here in Atlanna you can count on a full itinerary with all the best spots. Ask Meg about the trauma of planning a surprise birthday party for me; I really am not sure how she did seeing as I also planned my own birthday party that year.

Lets go deep, I am a therapist after all. My strong need for control is to counteract my Anxiety. I can “What if” the shit of every situation and plan accordingly. No one around me needs to worry about a thing; I got this worrying stuff down. Similar to control, I would prefer you not worry and just LET ME DO IT. The Hakuna Matata spirit that my sweet wife possesses must be a Canadian thing.

Foster parenting is wrecking my Control. Even when I think I have worried and planned the worry away things are not going how I have planned. I can hear the comments now. Whoa, crazy take a chill pill. I know. I do. I am self aware that this is not ideal. I am working on that with my brilliant therapist. That hour is never long enough.

In the middle of a fabulous dinner tonight the baby cries for Mama, Wait! wait wait one minute….we planned for crying at bedtime and then again every 90 minutes in between which I blog, “sleep”, and crochet Christmas presents. I have NOOO CLUE what is coming next. E V E R. Danielle (needs no introduction) told me that parenting is just crisis intervention. And to quote “At least until they are 5; I’m sure thats when things calm down.” (Zephyr age 4 and 10/12ths).Good thing I am a crisis interventionist is basically the theme of my resume.

I can put out fires, calm crisis, and direct chaos. I am bossy  have strong leadership skills. I am the first born and I was a catcher, these skills are in my DNA. Sleep deprivation, however is making this part hard. When I am tired, I am super cranky catcher; when the pitcher throws the ball in the dirt (Lexi) I throw it back in the dirt. On that note, I should apologize to all my co-workers for any crass attitude or for my random meltdowns.

A small word on being a parent who works outside of the home: I am not sure how you do it. I mean I am “doing” it but if I am not with a client all I can think about is the kids and what they are doing and if they are eating or crying. Does that get better? Todays main question is can I kick ass at reducing trauma symptoms all while keeping three children alive and well? Time will tell.

All right, enough about me. Let’s give the daily baby update (thats what you are here for). Highs: The littles did better at daycare (allegedly). My sister, the preschool teacher goddess told me to expect tears for 2 weeks and then they should get their life together. Cool. Thanks Allie. They smile when we pick them up and give us hugs. Those are the moments that lead to the warm ooey-gooey feelings that grows my heart 3 sizes. 3rd grader went to after care and reported having fun. She seemed okay with attending every day. We ate dinner together and for the most part consumed food. I am less worried about their caloric intake. They eat their weight in goldfish everyday on the drive home. Our wacky 3 year old is so chatty….mostly in espanol (I have been holding that one out on you for a little bit) Lows: The baby boy is struggling. He misses his mama and cries for her with no clear trigger. Sleep is not solid. Last night we cried with baby boy for 45 minutes. It takes F O R E V E R to get the them to sleep, We naively helicoptered our daycare drop off (we are those people)…this freshman error lead to everyone crying.

Last note (I swear I am winding down) our favorite song to sing at bedtime is The Fruit of the Spirt (see lyrics below)…I will sing it to you if you call me. You can sing it a million times and continue with a new fruit each time. This is Gods message to my life tonight. The fruit of the spirit is not control, anxiety, stress… I gotta run I am watching the monitor as Meg takes a turn soothing baby boy. She is truly embodying the fruit of the spirit right now; I can learn a lot from her.

The fruit of the spirit is not a coconut, the fruit of the spirit is not a coconut. If you want to be a coconut you might as well hear it, you can’t be a fruit of the spirit. Cause the fruit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control.