say she’s like a mother hen to everyone. Seems it’s time to accept that now includes me.
That thought makes me happy. I could use a friend, and Mandy has an easy way about her, kind of like Flynn. I know already I’ll be sad when she turns eighteen in late July. I’m sure that’s when she’ll leave to meet up with the guy who is waiting for her.
I exhale loudly, resigned that everything in life is temporary.
Callie, eyeing me curiously, asks, “What’s wrong, Jaynie? Why are you blowing air out of your mouth? Mandy does that when she’s sad. Are you sad?”
Whoa, I am not used to young kids and their direct questions. However, I don’t want to upset Callie with talk of Mandy’s inevitable departure, so I stick with, “I was just thinking about how nice Mandy is and how much I like her.”
Callie’s face lights up. “Mandy is nice, Jaynie. She’s the bestest-best almost-Mommy Cody and I could ever have.”
“She is pretty awesome,” I agree.
“I don’t just like Mandy, though,” Callie goes on, her voice a cheerful sing-song. “I love, love, love her. And Cody loves, loves, loves her, too.”
“I can see why,” I say, laughing.
Callie just about breaks my heart then, when she grows somber and says, “Did you know our real mommy didn’t want us?”
I shake my head. “No, honey, I didn’t know that.” Sadly, I am not surprised. There’s a reason the twins are in foster care, after all.
“She left us a long, long time ago.” Callie blinks back tears and whispers, “And I don’t think she’s ever coming back to get us.”
My heart hurts hearing the pain in Callie’s tone. And then there is this…
“Hey,” Callie exclaims, like something just clicked in her head. “Do you know my real mommy?”
I sigh. Kids see the world as so small. I’m an adult to Callie, and that makes her think I might just know her mother. Of course, I don’t.
“No, honey,” I say as gently as I can. “I don’t know your real mommy.”
“Okay.” Her bottom lip quivers, and I expect her to cry. But the little girl pulled it together a minute ago, and she does so again now.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she says. “Do you want to know why?”
“Okay,” I reply. “Why.”
“I’ll tell you.” Callie lowers her voice to a whisper. “But it’s a secret, okay?”
“Okay.”
She kneels on her chair, leans over Mandy’s seat.
Cupping her mouth, Callie says softly, “Our real mommy doesn’t matter because Mandy is going to be my real mom. Cody’s, too, like, for real, for real.”
“Yeah?” I’m confused, but I play along. “That’s good.”
“It is,” she says. “We’re going to live with Mandy someday when she gets her own place. She’ll adopt us, and we’ll all be a family.”
Oh, God, if you’re up there, please make that happen. Mandy would be a better mom to these kids than any of the foster parents I’ve ever heard about or come across .
“That’d be amazing, Callie,” I reply. “I hope it really happens.”
“It will,” she says confidently as she slides back down in her chair.
Silence descends, and while my thoughts drift, I distractedly scoop what chips remain in my small foil bag. I notice Callie’s eyes zooming in on my food like a laser, hunger naked in her gaze. I am freaking starving, but I now understand what compelled Flynn to give his nutrition bars away. I can’t say no to this sweet little kid who has gotten such a raw deal in life.
Holding my last handful of chips out to her, I say, “You can have the rest if you want.”
Callie’s eyes widen in disbelief. “But they’re yours. Aren’t you hungry?”
I am famished, but I tell Callie, “I’m actually pretty full.” I hold out the chips and say encouragingly, “Here, take them. I want you to have them.”
“Thank you, Jaynie,” she whispers.
Callie is careful not to touch me as I drop the chips in her hand. Word has clearly gotten out that I have a problem with touching.
That thought makes me happy. I could use a friend, and Mandy has an easy way about her, kind of like Flynn. I know already I’ll be sad when she turns eighteen in late July. I’m sure that’s when she’ll leave to meet up with the guy who is waiting for her.
I exhale loudly, resigned that everything in life is temporary.
Callie, eyeing me curiously, asks, “What’s wrong, Jaynie? Why are you blowing air out of your mouth? Mandy does that when she’s sad. Are you sad?”
Whoa, I am not used to young kids and their direct questions. However, I don’t want to upset Callie with talk of Mandy’s inevitable departure, so I stick with, “I was just thinking about how nice Mandy is and how much I like her.”
Callie’s face lights up. “Mandy is nice, Jaynie. She’s the bestest-best almost-Mommy Cody and I could ever have.”
“She is pretty awesome,” I agree.
“I don’t just like Mandy, though,” Callie goes on, her voice a cheerful sing-song. “I love, love, love her. And Cody loves, loves, loves her, too.”
“I can see why,” I say, laughing.
Callie just about breaks my heart then, when she grows somber and says, “Did you know our real mommy didn’t want us?”
I shake my head. “No, honey, I didn’t know that.” Sadly, I am not surprised. There’s a reason the twins are in foster care, after all.
“She left us a long, long time ago.” Callie blinks back tears and whispers, “And I don’t think she’s ever coming back to get us.”
My heart hurts hearing the pain in Callie’s tone. And then there is this…
“Hey,” Callie exclaims, like something just clicked in her head. “Do you know my real mommy?”
I sigh. Kids see the world as so small. I’m an adult to Callie, and that makes her think I might just know her mother. Of course, I don’t.
“No, honey,” I say as gently as I can. “I don’t know your real mommy.”
“Okay.” Her bottom lip quivers, and I expect her to cry. But the little girl pulled it together a minute ago, and she does so again now.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she says. “Do you want to know why?”
“Okay,” I reply. “Why.”
“I’ll tell you.” Callie lowers her voice to a whisper. “But it’s a secret, okay?”
“Okay.”
She kneels on her chair, leans over Mandy’s seat.
Cupping her mouth, Callie says softly, “Our real mommy doesn’t matter because Mandy is going to be my real mom. Cody’s, too, like, for real, for real.”
“Yeah?” I’m confused, but I play along. “That’s good.”
“It is,” she says. “We’re going to live with Mandy someday when she gets her own place. She’ll adopt us, and we’ll all be a family.”
Oh, God, if you’re up there, please make that happen. Mandy would be a better mom to these kids than any of the foster parents I’ve ever heard about or come across .
“That’d be amazing, Callie,” I reply. “I hope it really happens.”
“It will,” she says confidently as she slides back down in her chair.
Silence descends, and while my thoughts drift, I distractedly scoop what chips remain in my small foil bag. I notice Callie’s eyes zooming in on my food like a laser, hunger naked in her gaze. I am freaking starving, but I now understand what compelled Flynn to give his nutrition bars away. I can’t say no to this sweet little kid who has gotten such a raw deal in life.
Holding my last handful of chips out to her, I say, “You can have the rest if you want.”
Callie’s eyes widen in disbelief. “But they’re yours. Aren’t you hungry?”
I am famished, but I tell Callie, “I’m actually pretty full.” I hold out the chips and say encouragingly, “Here, take them. I want you to have them.”
“Thank you, Jaynie,” she whispers.
Callie is careful not to touch me as I drop the chips in her hand. Word has clearly gotten out that I have a problem with touching.
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