I had a blog post almost ready to go today, and then the caseworker called:
"There was a big meeting. We didn't invite you. We scheduled extended visits on top of all your plans and appointments because, as you're aware, you don't matter. Also, we're making you say good-bye a week sooner than expected."
I should be used to this. I should be especially unsurprised this time because the girls have already stayed with us much longer than anyone expected.
And there is a part of me that is ready to say good-bye to their two speech therapists, three physical therapists, one play therapist, one occupational therapist, one gastroenterologist, and however many attorneys they've accumulated.
But I am not even a little bit ready to say good-bye to another set of kids, especially these kids.
I haven't had to say any good-byes in five months. I really liked it.
Someone asked me recently if foster care gets easier or harder over time. I still don't know how to answer. I know now to only use pencil on my calendar. The fact that my opinions don't matter bothers me much less now. I now handle the beginnings and ends of each new placement with fewer tears and a more closely monitored meal plan.
And I know that in a month I'll glue the girls' pictures in our scrapbook and miss them a manageable amount.
Today, it is the end of the world, the latest in a long series of catastrophes.