Sorry that I didn't post a review yesterday. We got our first respite foster kids. They are supposed to stay for the weekend. A brother and sister, and the girl is autism spectrum.
I had always heard growing up that women were naturally nurturers, and far better suited to raise kids. In Mormondom, that's like the 11th commandment: Thous shalt have thy women be housewives. Well, I don't know if it's because the first kids we've ever had are special needs, or there's something wrong with me. But all I want is for these kids to go away so I can have my life back. I feel selfish for wanting to do things when I want, on my time. I'm a bit jealous because my husband enjoys spending time with the kids, and I'm holed up in the bedroom.
I'm discouraged because all my life I was taught that this is the apex of happiness for me. Being a housewife and having kids around. And I hate it so much. I've always hated staying at home, anyway, but add in these kids (and I'm not bagging on the kids, I swear), and I'm pulling out my hair in frustration.
Perhaps it's because the kids are young-10 and 7. But they just need constant attention, supervision-needs all over the place. I realize for those of you with kids, that this is no revelation. It was for me, though. Before, when I had babysat, you park kids in front of the TV and they are good for a few hours. (I understand that's not great parenting techniques, but respite care is like a weekend vacation for the kiddos).
I have never been nurturing, or anything like that. Honestly, part of the reason I was OK with doing foster kid classes is because my husband wants kids so much. I wish I could find a job that pays reasonably well, and he can stay home. That would work best for both of us.
So the plan right now is to try one more weekend with different kids, preferably teenagers. I've always gotten on well with teenagers. I'm not patient enough to deal with the neediness of small children. I accept that, and yet it still hurts. But if having teenagers doesn't work out, either, then we will stop fostering, and I work for a few years to find a career that will support the family, and my husband will stay home.
But there's this voice in the back of my head telling me I'm a failure. Chiding me because I want more than what should be my station. Disparaging me because I'm not warm or maternal. And as much as I try to tell myself that people are individuals, not gender roles, it still hurts. Mostly because I feel like I'm disappointing my husband. Sometimes there's just no winning.