Sunshine after the rain

I am posting something today that is a little different, a little bit down.  It's reality though, and I am not so self-involved to think for a second that I am alone when these feelings strike, though we can all feel that way from time to time.  Regardless, read at your own risk. ;)

I am happy to report I am feeling much more sunshine and rainbows about life lately.  I had hit a funk, and thankfully, I have an awesome hubby who, despite his own sleep-deprived challenges these days, helped walk me through that funk and back out the other side.  I just hope I have been able to do the same for him on his less-than-stellar days.  We should all be so lucky, right?!  

I'll share a pic or two to make it worth the visit today. ;)

Bugga and Papa sharing a drink of water. =)  And then sharing a smooch.

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Failure.  What a word.

Well, FAILBlog has been giving me some good chuckles lately, my new favorite for oft-innapropriate humor.  (Seriously, warning, some may find the humor in FAILBlog offensive; please refrain from judgment of what tickles my funny bone, thank you!)

And being involved in rescue, the term "foster failure" is one I know well.  Though, in reality, it isn't such a bad thing and I really think a new term needs to be coined for making a foster pet a member of your family permanently.

Back to the point:  failure.  It is term that keeps bouncing around in my head in recent days.  I debated internally for some time about whether or not to post any of this because really, no one likes a negative nellie.  But the fact remains, I've just been feeling like a failure lately.

Bugga is rapidly approaching his second birthday and for some reason, I am gripped with fear over whether or not he is "normal."  Why?  That is a great question.  Somehow, before now, I never really fretted over it.  I was never that uber-competitve Mom, comparing my child to other children, counting all the ways he was "advanced," or pushing him to do this thing or that just so I could say "hey, my baby {sat} or {walked} or {said "watermelon"}.  Not that I haven't thought my child is amazing and wonderful and everything most every parent thinks about their child. ;)  The knowledge that there is GREAT variation in how each individual develops kept worries at bay, and helped me to circumvent the need to play that game, the "my baby is better" game.

So now that he is almost 2, all that worry that I pushed aside and thought I had successfully avoided has suddenly chased me down, tackled me to the ground, and is biting my hind end ferociously.  There's an image, eh?!  

I still don't the know the why of it all.  All I know is that I can't stop wondering if I should be drilling things into my young son's brain--like colors, the alphabet, numbers, world geography, mechanical engineering, and maybe a little abnormal psych thrown in for good measure (okay, that last one I may just be able to provide his own personal case study...oy)--or if I should be letting his own natural curiosity soar and guide what he is learning for now.  My heart screams for the latter, but that outside pressure and internal war lead me toward the former. ={  Yet, when I try that, the "drilling," I end up in situations like yesterday, when I was trying to go over an alphabet book with him and every letter was "d," because he just really wanted to explore "d" at that moment.  Hmmm...maybe he was hinting at the whole "drilling" idea.  Never thought of it that way...

Why all the fuss?  And why NOW?  I wish I knew.  Bugga will be 2 years old soon.  Instead of being thankful for every moment with him, his good health, his every ability, skill, and trait that I adore, I am worrying over any possible way I may have failed him to this point.  What a waste!  And believe me, I know it, but it is gripping at the moment, despite my efforts to shake it.

Compounding all that fun, J is in the midst of 6 weeks of 12-hour shifts at work.  Olive, our current foster, is young, drive-y, and generally dislikes her crate, making any attempt at dog-free and child-free "quiet time" an utter joke.  Paisley is my good girl, keeping me sane in so many ways.  So I trudge on, attempting to see the bright side through the haze.  I know it's there, maybe if I squint....hmmm, not today.  Maybe when I wake up tomorrow.  We'll see.

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As I previously reported, I'm feeling much better.  Whew. ;)  It really was my own attitude that was tripping me up.  Don't you just hate it when that happens?  I'm back to being pleasantly entertained when Grady says every lego is "geeen" and all the numbers are 2.  It's alright.  I know from my interactions with him that he is just fine, that he understands so, so much and that what he "knows" now will not define his future.  

Annnyway.  Hmmm, what else?  Little Miss Olive looks to be competing with Timon for the title of "shortest-term foster dog."  She's been here 2 weeks, and she has 2 pretty great homes vying for her family member status, so she will probably be leaving us soon.  We feel so blessed to have had her with us, for any amount of time though!  

Of all our fosters, she is the most like our own Paisley girl. Not in looks of course, but in personality, in abilities, and also in challenges. ;) Even with her short stay, we have fallen quite hard for this little gal. I know, same story, 7th verse now, right?! We're already lining up our next foster too, so you'll get to hear the 8th verse as well. Lucky you! =)