Brave.
A word that I have never once in my life used to describe myself. With everything that has happened over the past years more and more people are using that word for what I am doing. I don't feel brave. I feel scared most of the time. I feel that this is my calling as a parent.
I'm afraid that I'm going to fail. If anyone should be described as brave it should be the girls. For being so young, they have had to grow up so fast.
We are going into our third week of them being up here full time, and I guess the honeymoon period is ending. More effects from the lack of structure are starting to surface. We aren't fair because one child got something and the other didn't or I have one child who is constantly afraid that she is going to get her butt busted if she does something wrong.
These girls have been through a lot.
We went to a baseball game as a family date night and we asked them what would they be doing if they were still at their mom's house. Their answers while not shocking in the least bit, still tug at my heart. "We would be looking for something to eat" or "We would be at someone's house."
How can you not feed your children? How can you just shuffle them off onto someone else? I come home everyday from work and there are not enough hours in the day for me to spend with the kids. For every bad moment that we have, it cannot override the fact that Dustin and I are giving them a life where they can finally be kids!
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