"But they're not your kids!"

When we talk about some of the things we're going through, some of our friends are horrified.

"I'd send them back," my brother said.

I had to explain in terms of puppies and kittens to get him to understand. These are REAL children. Does the system suck? Yes. Does it absolutely abuse us foster parents? Yes. Is it the kids' fault? NO.

We made a commitment to these kids, and of everything that has happened, the kids have been the least of our problems. The system, which makes everything more complicated or downright impossible, is the cause of much stress. (Or was, til we realized we had crash-landed on our own private island, and stopped expecting any help.)

But sometimes people don't understand that. So when I complain about not being able to travel with the kids, and the heartbreak of forcing them to go to strangers for "respite" while I do something crucial, like buy a car, they tell me this is crazy. I should just get rid of the kids.

After all, they say, it's not like they're MY kids.

No. They are.

Are they mine forever? Probably not. Are they mine in all ways? Nope. Do they even think of me as "mom" or as family? Definitely not.

But they are still my kids.

I plan activities based on their desires, I buy toys they will love, I wake up with them in the night and comfort them when they're upset. I feel happy when I see them enjoying things, and I feel their pain when they're devastated at the separation from their mother. We stay up late talking about the kids, about their victories and mistakes, about how to improve our parenting and how to keep up what's working. I worry about them and miss them when I'm at work.


They are my kids.

If my kids threw a fit and spat in my face, no one would suggest I give them up. If my kids woke me up three times a night with accidents because they aren't quite potty-trained, no one would suggest I call up DSS and hand over my kids.

Yet with these very same issues, good friends have told me to do just that.

They, like DSS, see me as a paid babysitter, and they think this is just a job I could quit. It's only when i put it in perspective for them that they understand...if they ever do. There's a part of them that just won't let go of the idea that they're not my kids.

Not by blood. But mine nonetheless.