They're Here

The three GKs arrived Wednesday afternoon. I managed to get the first grader signed up for school yesterday and it went as well as I hoped for, but as of last night it didn't feel right to push for school today. The settling process is going well, but the transition is still too new for full security. I don't expect the security level to be too much higher by Monday, but my sense is that it might be wise to give him the extra days to process the changes from a favorite vacation spot to a home with rules and goals. Explaining those subtle diffs to a six year old isnae as easy as I could wish for. At six, words are still to shifty to take the place of example and experience.

Perhaps the more important event on the current agenda is the arrival of the 20 turkey babies. They are en route and could arrive today. I hope. I find myself anxious of them spending any more time than needed in postal containers. I remain hopeful that helping them feel more at home will help the 3 skin turkeys feel more at home, as well. In my strictly personal recovery, helping others has provided a deeper understanding of how to help myself. Just believing. . . Proof irrelevant for now. . . Hubs and I are well decided that 4H is the extra-curricular activity we wish to pursue for the children. The inner city life the GKs were born to has a thriving urban agriculture scene attached, far closer to home than most of their birth family knows. Personally, I have grown intolerant of the still booming boom, delusion and bustle of "Music City" but the GKs and most of their living family tree is native to the city and deeply rooted there. I still hold considerable respect for that Urban Agriculture scene I feel like a founding mother of. I still daydream about the parents of my GKs recognizing the potential of that urban half acre we still own there as more than a nursing home for middle aged millennials. Just dreaming. . . For now, a heritage turkey flock enhanced by 4H exploration sounds like a solid plan. We see what grows.

Did I just use the "P-word?" I've heard it said many times that if you want to hear God's laughter, tell It/Her/Him your plans. Just praying, Gnarly Old Dickhead. That's a P-word, too, ya know. Letting you lead The Dance, even though we both know I am smarter and more omniscient than you.

Attempted humor aside. . . Holding steady, I think. Stepping small. Itsy, bitsy baby steps.