Pink Eye

I wear my sunglasses at work, so I can, so I can... see because I have pink eye. True story. People keep asking me how I got it, like I saw some come hither sign and figured I might as well…. I don’t know how I got it, but it started last Tuesday and my eyes are still red and bloodshot and they alternate hurting and itching. I wore my sunglasses all day at work on Friday, my first day back since leaving mid-day on Tuesday, and no one complained. The only thing more painful than my eyes is looking at them. Luckily, I managed to only pass the infection off to Chica Marie. But, she seems to be having a much milder reaction and was allowed back to school Friday after seeing the doctor the day before.

 

So, since I had a lot of down time, trying to rest my eyes last week and I’m not one to listen to books on tape (I get distracted too easily), I had a lot of time to just think. I was home alone on Wednesday, having had Primero help me escort Love Bug to daycare before driving himself to school, where I resumed the control for the short jaunt home. I thought about how different my life was a mere three years ago, before Primero had moved in. He wasn’t my first placement or my first respite placement that became permanent. But, he was the first child that stayed, the first one who is not being moved or going home because he is home. I know it is not a unique experience for parents to look back on their lives B.C. (before children) and wonder how on earth they managed to fill all that free time. But, it is semi-unique to think I’ve done that – gone from a full home to an empty one – four times. It’s jolting on both ends; to wake up one morning to the demands of a child and once they are gone, to wake up to complete silence (well, almost – cats and dogs can be noisy). Probably until sometime last year, I was still internally holding my breath for the echoing silence to prevail once the kids had moved on. It took me telling myself over and over again that this was my new reality to have it truly sink in – and not in a bad way! Just different from what I had previously experienced.

 

During one of eye resting spells I thought about all of the things I did in my life while Primero was growing up as someone else’s son. He was born when I was 18, a senior in high school wrestling with decisions regarding college and majors and how to pack up all of my shoes and fit them into a dorm room. I graduated college the spring before Primero turned 5 and got married the spring before his ninth birthday. Not long after Primero turned double digits I began trying to have a baby with my ex. In 2012, the year before Primero came into foster care, I had my first foster-adopt placement. When Primero was placed in his first foster home, I was caring for the two little ones who were my longest foster care placement (until Chica Marie and Love Bug). I didn’t know my son until a few months after his 14^th birthday. A lot happened in both of our lives when we weren't together. It seems almost impossible to imagine the many twists and turns, where had anything gone differently for either one of us, we would have never met let alone become a family. There is a Rascal Flatts song that goes, “God blessed the broken road that lead me straight to you.” They are talking about romantic love, but I think this line applies to our story as well.

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