Note to Social Workers

Dear social workers,

If you are scheduled to come visit my home in the morning and decide to show up an hour early, this is what you may find:

1.  Me undressed.  You may have been lucky this time in that I had yoga pants and a t-shirt and a bra.  Next time, you may not get as lucky.  Don't chance it!

2.  My hair in its, um, natural state.  It ain't pretty.  There have been plenty family laughs over my hair in its natural state.  This is reason enough to make afternoon appointments.

3.  Boys in all varieties of dress and undress.  After I rush to get four preschoolers ready for their day, including four lunches, eight water bottles, morning snacks for a whole class, afternoon snacks for the 4-year-olds, their rooms tidied, their hair done, their shoes tied, their backpacks loaded, their multiple medications administered, and their extra clothes and bedding for potty accidents packed, I may have to sit down and feed the baby a bottle.  This doesn't seem like as big of a problem when I think I have a full other hour to tidy the living areas, clean up the breakfast dishes, dress myself and the three remaining little ones.  OK, so I was even stressing at the thought of getting it all done when I thought I had another hour before the doorbell would ring.

4.  Poopy diapers.  Yes, it is a law of this house that multiple children will poop at the exact moment I am trying to get something else done such as feed the baby his bottle.

5.  Toys spread here, there, and everywhere.  This happens quickly around here.  I see no need to do a full tidy until 8 minutes before someone is coming because there will be no evidence of my attempts to tidy if I do it sooner than that.

6.  Dishes undone, grape jelly on the counter, crumbs here and there.  There is a time in my morning for breakfast tidy, and that time had not yet come.  A hungry baby beats dirty dishes in order of importance.

7.  A resigned foster mom.  What can I do?  You are here.  Nothing is as it should be or could by in one more hour.  I look like crap.  The boy you are visiting has an orange polo shirt and red pajama pants that were the only bottoms I could find in the room when I heard that horrible ringing doorbell.  It's not cute.  The other boy looks cuter, but that's only because he wore yesterday's comfy outfit to bed and still has it on.  The baby is still in pajamas, but babies are allowed to be in pajamas so we're OK there.  It looks like kids play in this house and eat breakfast in this house and read books in this house and, yes, poop in this house.  If you wanted to catch us in real life, congratulations.  This is real life, and it can be messy.

So, please be aware of what you may see that you can never unsee if you choose to ring my doorbell an hour early.  I would hate to add to your therapy bills even though it seems that you don't mind adding to mine.

Sincerely,

Me