I didn’t sleep well. All kinds of thoughts probing my brain. Did his friends really actually smoke pot in our HOUSE? Did he really sell dope? If so, what will we do about it? How will we handle this? DId his P.O.’s vacation start today or will she still be in on Friday? Should we have the cops bring drug sniffing dogs here? What are we going to do?
Doesn’t make for good sleeping conditions and sometimes, I just can’t let it go.
So, today, which I had originally planned to be quite a good day -- no appointments, my husband home on his day out, has turned into a day which, if the sellee confesses to the transaction, filled with police, probation officers, etc. And today I didn’t WANT it to be a day like that. I wanted it to be an easy day.
And I must say again, that last night seven families talked to me about adoption. Seven families that I will attempt to persuade to adopt. Seven families who, one day, could be having the same kind of night I did last night.
But then in the midst of my moping patheticness, I realize that many birth parents end up with pot-smoking, pot-selling teenagers and they certainly didn’t sign up for it.
And, I realize, once again, the same conclusion to which I am forced to come often. It’s not about me. We didn’t adopt children so that we could have restful nights sleep and all good days. We didn’t do it so that we could feel happy all the time. We didn’t sign up because somehow we believed that our quality of life was going to be enhanced, our days would be more peaceful, and our lives would be carefree.
We did it because they needed someone who, at the end of a pot-smoking, pot-selling day, would be able to say, “No matter what, we still love you. After all, you’re our son.”
Doesn’t make for good sleeping conditions and sometimes, I just can’t let it go.
So, today, which I had originally planned to be quite a good day -- no appointments, my husband home on his day out, has turned into a day which, if the sellee confesses to the transaction, filled with police, probation officers, etc. And today I didn’t WANT it to be a day like that. I wanted it to be an easy day.
And I must say again, that last night seven families talked to me about adoption. Seven families that I will attempt to persuade to adopt. Seven families who, one day, could be having the same kind of night I did last night.
But then in the midst of my moping patheticness, I realize that many birth parents end up with pot-smoking, pot-selling teenagers and they certainly didn’t sign up for it.
And, I realize, once again, the same conclusion to which I am forced to come often. It’s not about me. We didn’t adopt children so that we could have restful nights sleep and all good days. We didn’t do it so that we could feel happy all the time. We didn’t sign up because somehow we believed that our quality of life was going to be enhanced, our days would be more peaceful, and our lives would be carefree.
We did it because they needed someone who, at the end of a pot-smoking, pot-selling day, would be able to say, “No matter what, we still love you. After all, you’re our son.”
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