Three Under Three

I picked up the boys the next day at noon.  Baby O had gotten big and I teared up when I saw him.  W had gotten big too, but he wasn't my baby that I had at three months old six months ago.  W remembered me from all the times he had been to my house.

"Do you want to come live at my house?"  I asked him.  "Yup!"  he said, without hesitation.

Neither of the foster parents was there, just a babysitter with her own two or three kids.  I helped W on with his shoes.  The babysitter handed me two enormous black garbage bags of clothes.  "All their stuff is in there," she told me.

This made me sad.

Before I even became a foster parent, I learned (I think from watching Ellen) about different non-profit organizations with one goal:  to make sure kids in foster care had duffel bags and luggage to hold their belongings in.  When Baby O came to us, he had nothing, but I made sure he left us with a huge duffel bag that was bigger than he was.  Where was that duffel bag?  Where was W's?  How could they just send these kids to a new place with garbage bags?

If this outrages you as much as it outrages me, there are several organizations you can donate to:

Check out: Together We Rise, Comfort Cases, It's My Bag, My Stuff Bags, and Suitcases for Kids



I strapped the boys into their car seats and headed home.  I was shocked that W didn't seem the least bit upset to leave.  It stuck me as heartbreaking... how often had this child been moved from home to home that he came to expect it?

I drove home where Tiernen was waiting with Bram.  I sat down and suddenly it hit me:  I had three kids under three (two nine month olds and a three year old).  Darryl worked nights and traveled an hour and a half each way to get to work.  I was working 8-3.  Bram was in Early Head Start from 8:30-2:30 Monday - Friday, but it was still a lot of hours with a lot of babies.

Was I crazy???