The Waiting Game

There is an empty bedroom in our house.  A four-poster twin bed is made up with clean sheets and a big teddy bear sits at the end of it.  There is a life-sized Raggedy Ann doll on a child-sized rocking chair.  The only other piece of furniture is a chest of drawers with 5 empty drawers.

This is our foster child’s room. 

We were approved as a pre-adoptive foster family on February 9^th, 2012.  And we wait.  And wait.  And wait.  On a daily basis, Little Miss asks me, “When is my brother or sister coming?” 

When?

I don’t know.  When we started this process, our case worker told us that there were tons of kids out there in our age range.  A lot had already had TPR (Transfer of Parental Rights), and more were moving in that direction.  But since our approval, we have a hard time just getting a return call from our case worker.  It sucks.

We “shop” online state photolistings of kids, and send emails to the agency asking for more information about this child or that.  Hubby and I debate disabilities, what we can handle, what might be too much.  We talk about the children by first name, commenting on how adorable Faith is or how Jay has a wonderful smile. 

And then we walk upstairs and look at an empty room.

To whom it may Concern at My Child’s School…

I hate dropping my kid off at school.  Not because it wastes time (It does).  Not because I have better things to do (I do).  Not because we don’t have a perfectly good bus system that gets her to school safely (We do). No, it’s because the car line is impossible!  I have never seen such an unsafe environment.

Here’s the “drop-off procedure”:  You pull into the car circle.  If you want to go to the school building with your child, you pull to the left and park in the parking lot.  If you just want to drop your child off at the curb, you stay to the right and pull up behind the cars in an orderly line and wait your turn.  Your child should open the car door, jump out, and shut the door. The school newsletter says that “cars should remain in a single line”.  That means NO PASSING! 

This is what really happens.  I pull into the circle, gripping my coffee mug like it’s my lifeline.  Double-check seat belt.  Little Miss is chattering in the back:

“Can I take my seat belt off?”  (No.)

“Are we on time?” (Hopefully…)

“Do I have music today?” (I have no idea.)

“Did you remember to pack my lunch?” (um…no.  Buy the hot lunch, whatever it is.)

While I’m fielding these questions in my early-morning fog (why did I stay up to watch Conan last night?), a Land-Yacht-sized vehicle zooms by me on the left, trying to take my mirror off.  The driver, putting on her makeup and talking on the phone at the same time, slams on the brakes as a car pulls out in front of her.  Rude gestures fly while horns blare (this is elementary school, folks!).  She throws the tank into park and hops out in her 3 inch heels.  She runs around the hulking mass and stands next to it while her child slides out of the front (!!) seat, turns around and climbs back in to get backpack, lunch and a model of the solar system that must have been life-sized.  Now we wait while they talk.  Some argument about after school.  Child slams door and drags backpack, lunch and diorama to the door of the school.  One of the two teachers assigned to car duty looks up briefly and waves hello.  Child finally makes it to door and struggles to load backpack, lunch and model inside.  Pluto breaks off in the doorway (he doesn’t need it, anyway).  Other teacher looks up and asks, “Do you need a hand?”  Child shuts door.  In the meantime, Mom has re-entered the vehicle and is curling her eyelashes in the vanity mirror.  Satisfied with her appearance, she slams the Semi into drive and roars out, narrowly missing a child innocently exiting the car on the left.  This exchange has taken approximately 4 minutes, 27 seconds. 

Finally.  I pull my car up to the curb in front of the door.  Little Miss knows the drill: Unbuckle seatbelt and grab backpack in one smooth gesture.  Open door, wave goodbye, and hop out on the sidewalk.  Shut door.  The whole drop-off may take 20 seconds.  Unfortunately, now I’m stuck, because Land-Yacht-Lady is now leaning out of her passenger-side window talking to another Mom about the episode of “The Bachelor” last night.  “Yeah, I know, I really think Bertha was right for him…well, I guess Gertrude gets him now…”  Horns blare.  LYL glares out her window, waves goodbye to the other mom, and fires up the engine (how did that thing pass emissions??).  I breathe a sigh of relief and follow the other cars out of the car circle, only getting sideswiped twice.

Lest you think that I’m just complaining I have a few suggestions to “streamline” the drop-off procedure (read: keeps people from getting killed). 

• Car Circle is for drop-off.  If you want to get out of the car with your child, walk your child to the building, or discuss prime time TV with your friend, great!  Please park in the lot so that you are not inconveniencing those around you.
• Do NOT PASS OTHER CARS IN CAR LINE.  Wait your turn and pull up to the yellow-marked area to let your child out.  Remain in your seat.  Do not pass Go.  Do not collect $200. 
• Teachers who are engrossed in your conversation, approach the child and make sure he does not need assistance. 
• Drive on.  Leave the circle, sip your coffee, and enjoy the rest of your day!

See, there is a difference!  I will be glad to come in and help enforce these rules at any time!

Thank you.