Hope and I are having great conversations about our day to day lives and how we will meld them. We talk about math class (she hates it); boys and this goal she has of having a boyfriend before she moves (Jesus please be a fence, amen) and what she wants to do during her visit. Conversations are getting so much easier; we are both finding a rhythm for this relationship and we’re enjoying describing our family of four—that’s right, four.
3) The Furry One
4) The Hermit Crab, pending name: Beyonce.
Hope gets testy when I don’t include Bey-crab.
Yes, she’s naming the crab Beyonce.
Anyhoo, as we were about to end our call last night, she says she told one of her friends that I’m her mom. The friend replied no, she’s not. Hope declared yes, ABM is my mom.
Is this really happening because I need this joy in my life right now?!?
She went on to describe this back and forth that included a revelation that her friend is also waiting to find a forever home and Hope’s conclusion that said friend is jealous. We had a chat about not teasing and about how to be supportive and compassionate. Then she turned the conversation and said,
“So what do you think about what I said?”
“About….?” I wanted to be sure I was following because sometimes she’s all over the place.
“About telling them you’re my mom and how they said you weren’t.”
“Oh. I am so TOTALLY your mom!”
“Yeah you are!” Then she broke out into a fit of delightful giggles and I could hear her smiling.
I think she will call me mom soon, but you know what, it’s ok if she doesn’t. The fact that she thinks I’m her mom, knows I’m her mom, tells people I’m her mom is good enough for me.