Close, but No Cigar

Christmas break started and the agency finally called.  I was ecstatic!  It wasn't a permanent placement, just respite, which is basically babysitting for another foster family.  It was only for a week over Christmas break, but I didn't care.  It was for a two-year-old boy and his three-year-old sister.  I said I would go out and buy a toddler bed immediately.  I was psyched.

"We just want to make sure of one thing though," the lady on the other end said before she hung up, "you don't have any dogs do you?"

We did have dogs. Two of them/;  an aging beagle and an overweight black lab who couldn't hold her lick-er.  All this was in my file, along with information about our six cats.  I had to write about each of their temperaments and include their shot records.  Didn't she know this?  It was in my file.

"Oh, then this won't work.  The two-year-old was bitten by a dog and has a phobia."

I assured her my dogs didn't bite, that I wouldn't agree to take foster children if I had vicious dogs in my house, but it was a no go.

Another time, the agency left me a voice mail and told that they MIGHT have an eight month old baby boy, but when I called back, they said that the judge decided not to take the child away and he stayed with his parents.

It is terrible to want to make your blessings on someone else's tragedy.  It's not like I was sitting home thinking, "Oh, I hope someone has their child taken away."

I just waited.

It was the worst Christmas ever, and not because of the still-empty nursery in my house.  Not to go into too many details, but all sorts of relationships when through a variety of crucibles between November and January.  I was looking forward to 2018 and the foster child I hoped it would bring.