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Finally Yours
When the Adoption Is Final By Jessica Gold
that you could possibly need for snacking, drinking, boo boos, clothing changes, aching feet and even Advil for my mom friends to use on those cranky days. I'm stocked to the brim.
Still, if you come in my home on any given day, you could see spaghetti being flung on the ceiling fan, Connor totally sauce-splattered and probably the rug too. You'd see me surrounded by wash and papers from my Internet research on an article. You'd see the dog and cat chasing each other and nibbling on a shoe or two. You'd see basic everyday chaos.
But you never know what that social worker might make of it. As they surprise you on that chaotic day, are they viewing the clutter as "clutter" or are they jotting down the fact that you are unorganized, irresponsible and unable to parent?
That was my fear. I honestly felt like I had to be "Stepford Mom" in front of the agency and social worker. I felt like if Connor had a hair out of place or did something wrong, I'd look bad.
Of course, on our final post-placement visit at the office, I had dressed Connor to the nines in an adorable navy and yellow sweater with matching navy pants, shoes and socks with a navy and blue hat. He looked so cute but not after he projectile vomited all over the outfit on the way to the visit. We had just changed him over from formula to whole milk and he obviously wasn't happy about the change. It was horrible.
Of course, my emergency outfit was simply jeans and a sweatshirt. I crankily changed him into this, cleaned up the poor crying baby and brought him into the visit with the disclaimer that he had gotten sick in the car. He acted all happy and fine even if he did look a little raggedy. In the end, the social worker loved his interaction with us, and the aesthetics of it didn't matter at all.