Has it really been a month since my last post? I suppose it has.
Truth be told, I have thought about posting something, only to find the 'what do I possibly have to say' thought running through my mind.
When I first started the blog, it was a template for venting and frustration and maybe meeting others rowing the same boat. Once tapped in, I found an amazing support group of gals who understood my plight for pregnancy and empathized with all the trimmings. Not sympathy, like my friends offer (and I am thankful for most of the time), but empathy of either having been there, being there, or leaving there.
Then the news ~ the poop on my hope parade. Guess you could say it left me a bit speechless. I didn't want to be a negative blogger, always ranting and raving about the unjustness of the fertile world. I struggled to think of something more to talk about only to find it didn't seem witty or important or interesting at all!
So now what.

So now I do my best to change gears and start blogging about the foster care classes, my new house, decorating for invisable children..... my life. And if you don't like it, or the way I describe it, then I guess it's your 5 minutes you wasted reading it to find that out!

Foster care classes are fine. I am somewhat bored as I already know most of the information. I find myself looking towards the classes more like a teacher then a student, offering up my own experiences on the other side ~ being the Child Protective Services worker these people will have to deal with in the future. Although the trainers are fairly realistic, I have been around for 6+ years and seen an array of problems and solutions. The happy stories they like to tell to smooth the corners are not always the best options. I am a big fan of hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Seeing these bright eyed do-gooder wanna-bees in my class is a bit frightening but we all have to start somewhere. My assumed purpose is to add my 2 cents here and there and hope it helps and the trainers are not offended.
There are 2 others in my class who also pipe up, a child therapist and a current foster parent. The foster parent is unlicensed and has 2 adoptive placements in their home. They bring real life in my house examples to everyone about their 2 future sons who are currently testing the boundaries and running amok. The therapist brings real life experiences on how to deal with certain topics and discussions necessary with older children.
And the paperwork. My god the paperwork. I did less paperwork becoming a case manager who is listed as the legal guardian for every child on my caseload!
They changed us to a more seasoned licensing worker at the original new worker's request. It was all nice and please and thank you, but I got the idea that after hearing me blah blah blahing in class they had a little meeting and realized I might be a handful. Good.

House is coming along. I previously mentioned painting the bedroom, but since then have decided I don't like it. I love the color, this rich caramel color, but I just can't get it to go with anything else. The duvet is a moss green and I really like it. It goes well with the paint, but I have been going over and over what options I have for the large windows. I feel I need to tie in the duvet color somehow, but nothing seems to work I think of. I will be spending yet another weekend repainting a light green color, then getting curtains the darker color the walls are right now. Lets hope it works because I am really getting sick of thinking about it.
Today I painted the biggest wall in the kitchen/family room a nice taupe color. I am not a taupe kinda gal so it's a new thing for me. I got a bright fabric on sale and will be making cornaces to go above all 4 of the windows which should brighten up the room.
Next project will be the nursery. I won a cute bedding set on ebay and will coordinate that. And I notified my friends I wanted them to host a baby shower for me. When getting questioning looks, I merely pointed out that just because I wasn't going to be pushing a baby out, didn't mean I wasn't going to get one. So why should, on top of all the other thinks I am missing out on by not getting pregnant, I get jipped on a shower, too?