So I have made it through two weeks of having two foster girls in the house. Contrary to previous posts, it has all worked out wonderfully. The girls have fit in our family incredibly well. We have had bumps and blood and tears and screaming and prayers followed by more prayers and giggles and dancing and smiles. Not that it's all sunshine and roses, but we are making it work. The girls have had two visits with their mom, and she promises them they will go home tomorrow. This is a possibility of course since they have a court hearing. It has been implied several times that they will be leaving our home afterward, and while I am happy that they might be placed with family, I am also saddened by the though of not having them with us. It is quite comical that a family of five suddenly seems so small. As my husband and older two kids are in the attic getting the Christmas decorations down, the four year old's are watching cartoons and the baby is squealing at they kitty, I am quite surprisingly at peace with the chaos. Of course any minute someone will burst into tears or ask when supper is, and my fantasy bubble will pop as I am dragged back into the reality of raising another woman's children with my own for a system that just doesn't seem to make sense most of the time. And, as if sensing what I am typing, the baby is making a try at the stairs....