Only one is biologically mine. The other 16 belong to other moms and dads but have had such a profound impact on my life that I can't help but to call them "my kids". I never even realized that I called them mine until my actual child pointed it out to me. If he takes my work games out of my car, I say, "Make sure you put that back when you're done. I need it for my kids tomorrow." Or "I'll see my kids until 4:00, then I'll come pick you up at school." On Friday, he said, "Why do you call them your kids? Don't they have moms?" Part of me felt a little guilty. I'd never want him to think that he's not my #1. But I explained to him that they're just kids that I see for work and they're not actually "mine". They do have moms, but I care for them, too.
While they're not biologically mine, they're not "just a job" to me. They make me smile, they make me laugh, they make my heart break when they're sad or when they struggle. Most of them have brought tears to my eyes at least once. I worry about them when I'm not with them. I worry about them when they're sick. And they also have a tendency to drive me nuts when they don't behave. My child or not, each and every one of them has gotten "the look".
I have a wide range of kids who are all very unique, and all are special to me for different reasons. There's the 3 year old girl who was born with a laundry list of diagnoses and couldn't say more than one word a little over a year ago, but now tells me she loves me every day before I leave. And her 4 year old brother who has me wrapped around his finger, especially when he serenades me with his little guitar (while wearing only underwear and a cowboy hat). There's the 11 year old girl with cerebral palsy who used to slap me and throw tantrums (and still does on occasion), but more and more often, kisses my arm in apology for her behavior. There are the twin girls who remind me of my sweet nephews and make me laugh when they speak to each other (and fight with each other) in their own 2 year old language. Then there's the 4 year old, beautiful little girl who first came to me as a foster child with an amazing foster family. She's now back with her biological parents, but I still see her every week and worry about her daily. If she's clean and smiling, I tell myself she's OK and try to ignore the urge to grill her about whether or not she's being taken care of. You know the saying, "Don't take your work home with you"? Completely impossible in my line of work. At least for me.
Kids are literally "my life". They are my focus at work and at home. The sick and disabled children that I see every day make me extremely grateful for my perfectly healthy, smart boy. They teach me to not take anything for granted and to find joy in the little things. This is, by far, the best job I've ever had. Not just because I have an awesome schedule that allows me to work only 3 days a week, but because it's incredibly fun and rewarding. I get to wear comfy clothes, play games, color, have tea parties, get kisses and hugs from sweet kids who love me, and help them to conquer one of the most important skills in their lives: communication. It can't get much better than that.
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