This kid’s got me. For almost ten years solid, she’s had my heart and now our stories are woven together forever.

I have a calendar from Livia’s first year of life that I used to mark all her “firsts.” Across the weeks in the month of June 2004 there is one word: waiting.

First week of June. Waiting.
Second week of June. W a i t i n g.
Third week of June. W a i t i n g.

Then during the fourth week we got the call, the go-ahead and on June 26 Livia was laid in our arms for the first time. June 26 is our Gotcha Day, lovingly referred to as “Livia Day” in our house. And if you think we celebrate June 26 then you’d be right.

I recently came across this calendar and smiled upon those weeks of waiting. Compared to international adoption where you get a picture of your child and then wait a really long time for placement, those weeks seem short indeed. But honestly, the heart knows nothing of a short wait. Each month, each week, each day, each hour can feel very long when you are waiting for something so specific and so specially good like a child. Time seems to unfold in a mysterious fashion and the only thing I can compare adoption waiting to so that the general public can understand is to ask if you remember your wedding date.

Do you remember the weeks and months leading up to that day? Do you recall people asking you about your planning and how things were going and sometimes you honestly couldn’t concoct an answer because the whole process was very much “hurry up and wait”? Though you’ve found a florist and ordered the flowers, you can’t actually pick them up until the the day of the wedding. You’ve got an appointment to get your hair done and you’ve got the final fitting arranged for your wedding gown, but again, you can’t do those final things until your wedding is actually happening. So in the meantime, it’s hurry up and wait.

That’s very much what life is life for a parent waiting for a child to come home.

And then when you’re a foster parent, there are a few more twists and turns to expect.

It’s still hurry up and wait, but with a few major caveats. Hurry up and wait… and don’t get too excited because this kid might not ever set foot in your door after all. Or hurry up and wait… but be prepared to fall in love with this child while at the same time cheering on his biological parents and preparing for the day their family is reunited and your family lovingly grieves the loss. Or hurry up and wait… but there will be no welcoming baby showers or gifts freely given because no one expects this child to stay. Or hurry up and wait… but start tentatively planning for questioning looks and unique conversations you will have when this child is actually part of your family. Not only will you need to fairly represent him as a foster child, but you know you’ll actively try to present your own personal longing for permanency while balancing the reality of the tenuous nature of fostering. Deep deep down in your heart you have hopes and dreams, but they aren’t allowed to take root just yet and you need to give lip service to working in the system for as long as this case calls for. So mama, hurry up and wait already.

Waiting.
W a i t i n g.
W a i t i n g.

Oh, the intricate joys and pains of the waiting process.

Happy anniversary, Jeremy Tredway! I love you.

My little space on the world wide web isn’t getting much attention these days. It’s not that I don’t have time really, but my creativity is often expressed outside the internet realm. It’s summer time. And for this freelancing photographer and part-time SAHM, it means I’m here full-time with the spectacular Livia Raine. Our days are filled with lots of face-to-face time, which can be entirely fabulous or entirely draining depending on the moment.

We do Mommy School in the summers on most mornings. Not only is it a way to encourage personal and academic growth, it also serves as a way to keep me from answering the “I’m bored” statement (which is really a demanding question, isn’t it?) and thus being cast immediately in the role of cruise ship director where I plan activity after activity to keep my only-child occupied. No one needs that. And yet, Liv doesn’t have a sibling to play with, so really, Mommy School helps us out—for a few hours at least. We read, we solve problems, we do math, we write, we play. It’s all good. And all the structure inevitably encourages more independent playtime later. Win-win.

There are those summer activities everyone wants to participate in. Camps and clubs. Hours logged at the swimming pool. Park playdates and evening strolls with ice cream. Museums and road trips. We’ll get some of those in as well.

I find the transition to summer to be challenging. I love the solid assurance of the normal 8:00am-3:00pm school day. Life gets mapped out in neat little chunks and I can fit my ESFJ self into it. On Wednesdays I have bible study, which means I get to study the word of God, might get to lead the study, have lots of girl time and drink hot coffee. Some Mondays include Moms in Prayer and then it’s like a smaller repeat of bible study days. And in between I’ll take on a photo job here and there, edit the shoots, have lunch with my mom or other women, and arrange all the usual things it takes to keep a household running. By 3pm I am All Liv All the Time. And I eat it up. It fulfills both the scheduler in me and the spontaneous part of my personality that is far more P than J.

Summer, well… Summer changes all that. As I said, lots of face time. Lots of free time. A lot less adult time. I get a little lost for the first few weeks as I struggle to gain my footing. I ask myself why I feel so off-kilter, why it feels like I’m wearing a shirt that just. doesn’t. fit. right. Is it the tag? Is the neck too tight? Is it a loose thread? No, it’s just summer. Free-wheeling, kid time, unstructured summer. And eventually I adjust. I build the structure I need and go out to coffee dates a lot more. I find other moms who are at home and I inundate them with texts and Facebook messages and phone calls until I’m satisfied. I dream of the next date night with Jeremy and am excited when it rolls around.

I might even write a little. I might shoot a lot of pictures. I might get creative. And I might show some of it here.

Then again, it’s summer. So I might not.