A Baby Book of Emails

A Baby Book of Emails

I was browsing through my sent mail because my sent mail is the closest thing I have to an actual diary, and I just need to apologize publicly, to everyone involved with the kids’ case, to the internet at large, I AM SORRY ABOUT ALL THE EMAILS. THERE ARE SO MANY. SO, SO MANY.

And I am also VERY SORRY for anyone that ever had to wade through our monthly foster care reports. Monthly foster care reports are the closest thing I have to a baby book and oh my. Actual phrases I wrote:


“Noelle traced an oval and it is a big deal for me, so much of a big deal that apparently I need to spent two full paragraphs talking about my feelings on oval tracing” (AND THEN I DID).

“…in the presence of strangers… I look like I’m exaggerating or like some crazy motor skills pageant mom.”

“looks like Rainbow Brite decorated it, if Rainbow Brite was a hoarder”

“Evaluators telling me how wonderful I am for parenting them as though I had taken in a pack of wild coyotes”

“Speech therapy is still difficult. That is an understatement. Speech therapy is horrible. Our therapist is lovely.”

“Our Help Me Grow… person(?)” – I was questioning her correct title, not her humanity, but that’s not really how it comes across, is it?

“Noah acts out all of Let It Go from Frozen… with more drama than a high school theater production.”

“Trying to figure out what goes on in Noah’s head is a task I am not fully qualified for.”

“He sings Row Row Row Your Boat and correctly applies it to situations.” WHAT EVEN. LIFE SKILLS, WE HAVE THEM.

“For some reason, Noah has been asking me for weeks to go to Meijer, despite the fact that he hates Meijer.”

“The neighbors gave FULL SIZE CANDY BARS which they definitely did not do when I was a child”

I have neither the time nor the interest nor the secondhand embarrassment tolerance today to reread them all progressively but I feel like if you took the first monthly reports and compared them to the last, there would be an exponential increase in CAPSLOCK and non sequiturs. I think for the last ones I initially titled them “The Artist Formerly Known as [Birth Name]”.

I think some part of me was subconsciously, or fully consciously, trying to establish some kind of legacy based on one time I attended a training saying how you needed to provide useful documentation, like don’t just say “this kid is wack” but say what they did, and I took that advice and ran with it to some new place of wanting to earn a spot in some “weirdest statements ever typed in a monthly report” hall of fame.

You don’t have to be perfect to be a perfect parent. I am living proof.




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