Week 3

Here at the beginning of week 4 of foster care, time is already blurring. I had to reference my journal entries to discover it has only been 3 weeks since the official change of foster guardianship. This moring has been restless for both GDs and the disruption of the morning routine has circled back as a reminder that 3 weeks isnae enough time to establish a business-as-usual routine. Big brother snoozed in apparent peace through the rowdy wakeups of his sisters, but that appearance of peace looked like as much showmanship as serenity. The 4 adults of the other grandparent household is pridefully "Night Owl." In my strictly personal herstory, most especially during my stage tech years, Night Owl performances are? ? ? Dramatic cliche? Am I delusional for believing I can spot a Night Owl performance through a closed door? Through 6-year-old skill sets, the performances can be comical. I am guilty of intolerance of both factions of the Daybreaker set. Dogmatic Morning People can be as inflexible as their noctunal counterparts. Two sides of the same coin. Whatever pumps your bubblegum machine on your preferred schedule, my friend. Please leave me to my delusion that all 24 hours of the day are equally important in their unpredictability.

At 3 weeks old, the turkey babies are already too big and adventurous for the breakfast table. Even letting them romp on the floor is getting to be a challenge when it comes time to wrangle them up to the turkey yard. Feather babies grow even faster than skin and fur babies. 

Bedtime. . .

I canae recall which iron from which fire interrupted this morning's entry. There are enough candidates that keeping timelines on which details are interrupting which feels like more challenge than it is worth. For now. . . Zzzzzzzzzzzz. . .