Disclaimer: Mild language and content that may offend some.
Due to HIPAA privacy laws and my own comfort, I use incorrect pronouns, such as "they/them/their", "little person" and LO (Little One) to identify our foster child.
Thoughts before having a kid in the house:
"Surely, I can keep some part of my routine."
"I'll get up to pray and journal before the little person wakes up."
Thought one month later:
"You were so adorable, Holly."
Everything has changed. Seriously everything. Our whole routine of life has been disrupted.
I did not realize having a kid in the house would affect my bowel movements. That a child I did not birth from my own body would give me constipation. We picked LO up at an office, fully clothed and over 40" tall. I don't have Postpartum Constipation, I have Postplacement Constipation.
It's not the little person's fault. We've all three been in survival mode. Am I alive? Is (s)he alive? What appointments are this week? Oh shit, what appointments do we have today? Who do I need to call and set up more appointments with? My to do list has to be broken into Section I, Subsection A, Category 1a because each task has its own "to do" after the first one is completed. The last few weeks have been absolute chaos.
Imagine a war zone without all the killing and bloodshed. Or Wall Street has opened. Or you're trying to do year end taxes with paper receipts on a rollercoaster strapped in next to a kid who's barfing. Then you start barfing.
LO has changed the dynamic of our two person + one dog family. A disruption has occurred and forced us, individually and as a couple, to come up with a new routine, including my innerds. This new groove has been ever-evolving and it looks like it'll never stay the same for very long.
That's incredibly uncomfortable for me to think about because I love patterns and planning.
So yeah, I'll pray and journal before the LO wakes up. Pfft.
Actually, no. I'll be cramming in a few extra minutes of sleep, a handful of animal crackers and Dramamine® before voluntarily climbing on that damn roller coaster again in my rain poncho to ride this thing called foster care. Bring. Itttt.