LUVVIE.

Discovery #1 of parenting: you will never be on time, for anything, ever again.

Okay, not everything, I get her to school on time. I may have to go 10-15 miles over any given speed limit, but her ass is there before the bell rings. Do I have to go back through the drop-off line because I forgot her lunch in the backseat? Yes. Do I then have to go back around a third time because I'm still unfamiliar with the exits and left? Also yes. As an individual whose default is already 10 minutes late, this is no Bueno (practicing Spanish for my girl).

Transferring schools from Grand Haven is in process, but until then, we commute 90-minutes at 6:30(45)am. Which brings me to discovery #2: teens can sleep sitting straight up, not even leaning on a window. Which was only learned upon a surprising lack of response when I was telling her a story. Apparently, a boring one.

And so I say with certainty, it was my pre-mom brain online when I promised this blog 3 days ago. Out. Of. My. Mind.

Drop-off is amazing. Though I'm sure OG moms would disagree and tell me to check in after a full 30-days - fair. For now, the moment she gets out of my car is easily one of my favorite parts of the day. No, no, no. I'm not glad to see her gone for 8 hours. Though again, OGs may disagree.

It's that each day, she'll say goodbye and grab her things, but when I go to pull off she turns to look back, smiles her adorable grin, and waves one more time. It fills my heart with joy and love differently than I've experienced before.

After dropping her off on the first day, however, and seeing her look back for the first time, I cried for her the full 45-minutes home. And while one may assume they were happy tears shed for the first drop experience and graduation into momhood, they were not.

They were heartbroken tears for the stolen innocence, stability, safety, and belonging she so deserved but lacked for the last 16 years. Her look back, her wave, and her face that first morning seemed to ask, "Will she really come back for me? People rarely do."

Luvvie, I will never stop coming back for you.

(Nickname that came naturally, fits perfectly, and is necessary to speak publicly about her and maintain privacy).

"I don't want my own children." I would tell every asshole who'd ask unprompted. Inevitably, they'd double down with, "You'll change your mind when you get older..."

As if I were too young to know I never personally wanted to reproduce. Like it had more to do with the fact I haven't found the right guy and his golden seed to fill (pun intended), the emptiness that is a childless woman. In fact, I found the right guy and the assholes weren't entirely wrong in the end.

My stupid female body fell so in love, it yearned 3 months for a miniature version of him. And while he was open to it the few times the topic came up, we always ended at the same decision: being biological parents, at least with our combined DNA (or even mine on its own), would never be in the deck of cards life gave us to play.

For those who look at my social and think, "I knew she was missing a few nucleotides!" you lost the bet and owe me $20, ($acperroud on Cash App). Rest assured my nucleotides are all intact and accounted for, they're just very likely to combine in ways I'm not willing to chance. If you're thinking, "Omg, Amber, but you're so sweet. You would make the best mom and your kids would be models! Also, what the fuck are nucleotides?"

#1. Agreed, on all fronts. #2. The composition of your DNA.

My choice is beyond informed, evaluated from every angle, counseled by professionals, and is as personal and intentional as parents who decide reproduction is right for them. Leaving a biological child out of my life plan had nothing to do with age or a man. It has everything to do with protecting the quality of life of whatever/whoever is my responsibility.

What I was certain my life plan would include, is fostering.

I started the process of becoming a foster parent many times knowing I had the skills and resources to help. I have always believed it to be the responsibility of the world to help where you can, how you can, and whenever you can. A quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson is what I guide my life by:

"To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived - that is to have succeeded."

Each time I started my application, I never submitted it; holding out for when the time was right. I had recently spent two years climbing out of the sinkhole that is mental health. I worried that a two-parent household was best, without so much as a prospect I'd want in my life let alone a foster child's. And then there was the biggest blow, Nika had been diagnosed as terminal, with less than a year left from her prognosis. The sign 'This. Is. Not. The. Right. Time.' was lit with brand-new bulbs with wattage so high Edison would come back from his grave to see them himself.

Then separations at the border increased and children were being sexually and physically assaulted in custody (insert Milania Trump wearing an "I Really Don't Care. Do You?" jacket to visit the children in cages). DACA was not only terminated; but after the decision was reversed by the Supreme Court, simply refused to accept applications. The Taliban continued to take over Afghanistan, Russia invaded Ukraine, and Syrian refugees were (and continue) drowning because risking possible death is better than certain.

I hope it's not lost on you that the effects of US decisions have grouped them into a category example with the Taliban, Russia, and Syria. Which are just a couple reasons I chose to foster refugee children, any age, from any country, as opposed to domestic ones; a question I've been asked multiple times.

If you need any more reasons I'm fostering refugees, I'm happy to explain... but only once you have a domestic foster/adopted child of your own. Until then, please don't come this way with any form of that question, without a U.S. Citizen baby on your personal hip.

This isn't an adopt-don't-shop kind of high-horse, either. It's a 'the-whole-world-matters-not-just-the-white-world' high horse. And 'don't-force-more-babies-into-a-country-they're-already-not-being-taken-care-of-if-you-want-me-to-do-it' goddamn UNICORN. If you want me to keep my legs closed, I want you to do the same with your mouth. I'm celibate, you're an ass.

I digress, this is not a political essay. My nucleotides can get aggressive.

I'm also a Gemini.

Knowing the process can take some time, I submitted in March and planned to look at placements once everything settled down and grief cycled a bit. I wanted to be in the most emotionally healthy state to bring a child into. And just like Ace of Base, I saw the sign.

I expected that I'd lose my shit and go into a 3-week Xanax-induced coma - especially after witnessing it all. I even prepared and discussed safety plans with family and friends, for what I thought would be the imminent return of my severe depression and ideations. (Not exactly the best state to be responsible for bringing orange slices to the game.)

Typically, any available foster homes get placement requests. As they came in I would simply respond to a request, "I still want to wait until Winter."

Then, the Friday before Nika's Celebration of Life in September, I was preparing for my speech when I got an email. It was an emergency placement request for a 16-year-old girl from Mexico, who'd surrendered herself at the border when she was 6. Her family connections were exhausted and previous placements were terminated unexpectedly (to no fault of her own). And she would be a long-term placement, different from the transitional short-term I had planned.

I can't exactly explain the feeling that came over me; it was like my fingers and heart replied before my brain did, "I actually think I'm interested." I memorialized Nika that Sunday; and five days later, a little love I had only read about, was putting away her clothes in the room I made for her.

Before I knew who they would be, I prayed for my future foster children. I prayed that wherever they were in the world, they would find safety and providence. I prayed that they have strength through transitions, they have solace in their dreams, and that they stay rooted in the truth inside them - that they are worthy and deserving of love and acceptance. That any trials and joys they'd face were molding them into the children I opened my door to, and that my version of God works with theirs to protect them from the horrors of this world. That they're using their souls as guides for the future they imagine for themselves. That life, no matter how hard the path has been, that it leads them to me - exactly as they are.

God and Nika answered prayers I didn't even think to include, and sent me Luvvie.

In the 4 weeks since, there's been an amount of change that has made me dizzier than the Gravitron at a county fair. Is that thing legal anymore? Was it really even legal then? Unlike the Gravitron, I haven't thrown up on this motherhood ride. She would like the go to Cedar Point for Halloweekend though, so... stay tuned.

The amount of learning I've done in these past two months is more than all of 2022 combined. About her. About myself. About this whole human experience. I knew from my in-home daycare that I could love other people's children. What I didn't know, was how much she would feel like mine. We simply missed some years we'll spend our lives making up for.

She is brilliant and funny. Smart and silly. Her level of resilience I've only seen in Nika, and obviously, Rue loves the shit out of her. She runs track and competes in weightlifting. Her teachers and coaches talk highly of her dedication, and could even graduate a year early if she chooses to do summer school. She is beautiful, but her heart is stunning.

We've done ArtPrize, Homecoming dress shopping, and the dog-beach after-school pickup. We visited the John Ball Zoo, she held a butterfly, and I looked full mom in a puff vest and fanny pack. (Photo proof on Insta, @acperroud). I watched her and her boyfriend have a thumb war in church like I did with my siblings when we were kids. We made corsages and she even let me do her hair for homecoming *insert ugly tears*. We've watched the LoTRs trilogy, got a beta fish named Beto, and went bowling for her boyfriend's first time (I won - no mercy).

I was told she stayed in her room a lot in the previous home, so I was pleasantly surprised when she was constantly hanging with me and Rue or asking to do something together. At night, when she comes to plug her phone in she barrel rolls onto my bed, snuggles with Rue, and begins to open up. I asked her once how she describes me and the changes to her friends at school. No hesitance, "laid-back, fun, down-to-earth, interesting 'in a good way', really funny, and... I feel like I can be myself with you." Those words were far better than whooping ass on the bowling lane but it was an underdog win, so it's close. She enjoys cooking and kindly separates a portion to mildly spice. When I've made dinner she's set the table and prefers family-style dinners at the dining table.

We did finish her Amazon Wish List (Luvvie's Wish List), but so far the only things she's asked me for are a turtle... and a sibling. We're gonna start with a turtle. There is a drum set on there which I respectfully ask none of my wealthier friends/family to purchase; and will take it as a direct sign that you hate me.

She has caught onto the consistency in which we pull over to help strangers, give water and necessities, offer to bring them food, or when we have nothing - even a smile and "have a great day." can change a lot. However, she now has a laser detector for people in need - which is amazing - but getting expensive.

This brings me to more discoveries during this time, in no particular order:

1. Teens use an inordinate amount of drinking glasses, which all contain the same beverage. They are often left next to the sink, so I have no idea whether they're dirty or being saved for imminent dehydration.

2. Their phones are the technological equivalent of a Pirate's hook. Everything must be done one-handed because the pirate-phone-hook is attached to the other, they get upset when you try to take it from them, and they only put it down to sleep.

3. White people can't cook because the good spices aren't in our spice section. Cooking authentically is a learning curve that has included multiple international markets. There was an incident involving over-seasoning, but it's an activity I am committed to improving nonetheless. And fortunately, I live with Gordon Ramsey now so I'm getting ample "pointers."

4. You spend an inordinate amount of time in your car. You now live in it; die in it; breathe in it. And if your child goes to school in Grand Haven, you start being known at the pump.

5. Going to the movies is a great activity when you have to wait for them in your car constantly and it usually takes around the same time. (Unless you count the time I waited for Homecoming to be over with a movie I still don't know the ending of because they didn't time out right.)

I was 10 minutes late.

6. It's helpful to learn Spanish by programming the TV in Spanish and the subtitles in English. I've re-watched Euphoria from a wayyyy different lense.

7. THEY DON'T KNOW WHO THE NOTORIOUS B.I.G. IS. I played the majority of his discography before we watched the Tupac/Biggie Documentary.

Not my kid... not mine...

9. As well as time, energy, sleep, and sanity, you will be out of money. And even when you're out of money they keep asking for shit. And usually when you're out of money when the expensive shit comes up.

10. Like our ancestors - and especially my parents - I discovered now more than ever, the figure-it-the-fuck-out-spirit that inhabits and haunts your mind and body. You will find change in the couch, "donate" plasma, or sell foot pics if it means they play on a travel team or don't miss the school trip to wherever. I have one bunion so the last option is out. Unless that's an exclusive pay kind of "special feature?"

That's all I got for now, this took long enough and I need to see what foot pics go for.

It hasn't even been a month...

I know this website is called I SHOULDN'T HAVE, but this is one thing I'm certain I did right.

-A