Transition time again

Another major transition point is on the horizon. We can see it, though there's some stuff along the road that we need to get through before riding off into its sunset.

Transitions annoy me because each time they unsettle me more than the last time, while simultaneously exciting me about new potentials. They exhaust me, fill me with fear, and fill me with joyful anticipation and the ability to satisfy my logical self in planning and organization, though this time I think I'm leaning more heavily on the fear side simply because I can't visualize what's coming next. Less possible planning equals less overall excitement.

Some of these transitions are not pleasant. Our cat, Colin, is still ill and will not recover, though he's soldiering on very well... until this past week, when he started having major problems with one of his teeth. It's falling out, but not pleasantly and with lots of blood, causing him to claw at his face and go a bit insane on occasion. We know it hurts because he started biting us today (firmly, while not breaking the skin) to let us know he wasn't happy. We will be taking him in to the vet this afternoon, but since he's ill and on meds we don't know if he's going to make it through the dental, for which they will probably have to sedate him. So either this transition will happen tonight, or he'll make it through the dental and the transition will continue slowly over the next month or two. Either way, we're trying to keep up with the emotional adjustments.

Some of these transitions are exciting and potentially happy, though also somewhat apprehensive. We received our letter stating that our home study is approved and cleared and we can start the search (again). Our social worker will be (date unknown) sending it on to the county foster care office for their part of the drama, but we're that much closer. Once they're done with it and we know what else we need to do, we'll begin being parents. Theoretically. We're collecting up whatever supplies we can find; thankfully, a lot of our friends have children this age and have been giving us some things their child has grown out of, so we've got a good start. Many foster kids may come here with just what they're wearing, and will take with them anything we give them, so we'll be needing pretty consistent restocking of baby and toddler clothes. We're hoping to go with cloth diapers and mostly homemade baby food (though we're not quite as sold on that one) so it'll basically be the clothes and toothbrushes we'll have to keep replacing. (If you feel led to donate your gently worn baby stuff to a worthy cause, feel free!) 

Finally, I've begun my final class for school. My graduation day is officially the last day of class, though commencement is in July, and that last day of class is the day after my 34th birthday. (Talk about another transition. I feel old!) My course right now is a process of summarizing the last three years, researching a variety of occupations I could chose with this degree, and writing a resume and cover letter for some of them. In other words, this six-week course is mostly a focus on 'what are you going to do next?' Since that's completely dependent on what happens with the foster care, and so far "Foster Parent" isn't a paid occupation available to research, I'm having a lot of emotional upheaval already in the first week. I've gone back to school to actually learn and become a better teacher and person. I get extremely frustrated when my schoolwork can't be applied to my real life, and so I try to find ways to be honest and make it real even when it's a stretch. In this case I'll have to either consider the possibility I will not be a parent OR that I will not have a career, OR make the decision to completely BS this class. None of those sit well with me. And I'm still firmly stuck in the fact that if for some reason there are no children to place with us come January, I'll have a degree that I won't feel safe getting a full-time job with in case we do get a child, and I'll have no idea what the immediate future holds. In other words, all those times we get the question "Where do you see yourself in five years?" is really boiling down to the fact that I can't see where I'll be in two months, and that is really extremely unsettling. It's kind of strange having an exact date for it, too... "On January 17, 2011, I will wake up to a completely new life, and I have no idea what it is." Weird.

So... it's transition time. I think maybe I need to start creating a Plan C so I don't go insane. For now, though, I think I'll go write a paper and get this show on the road.