Not more than 20 minutes ago, I had what I’m sure was a moment of pure insanity. And now, as I sit here trying to quickly type this entry, Juan is looking at me like I have completely lost my mind.  In a desperate attempt to shut me off, he just clicked the ceiling fan remote control in my direction.

You see, I was loading up the fridge with the leftovers of tonight’s pancake dinner when the refrigerator thermometer fell from its place in the butter compartment. We bought the thermometer about 2 years ago to satisfy one of the requirements for our home study.  As I put it back, I had a flashback to those early days of hope and excitement – the warm wishes from friends when we told them of our plans to start a family, our journey into the world of baby/family oriented yard sales, the drive to dc to pick up a free crib from another gay dad and complete stranger.

Maybe all that warmandfuzziness clouded my thinking, because for a moment I thought, “I could do this again.  I could be a foster parent again.  It hasn’t been that bad”.

I know what’s going on of course. I’m letting my guard down and getting, as T would say, “cumpeekohzee”.  This happens every now and then, usually when I get in a groove and forget about DSS.  I’m able to block out the feeling that DSS is practically hiding in our closet, waiting to leap out and shout “Boo!”

The foster-again thought is a little premature given that we haven’t come to closure with the current situation.  In spite of the new direction of the last hearing’s outcome, there is no guarantee that T is staying.  And if he does go back, I can guarantee that fostering-to-adopt will be the farthest thing from my mind.

But what if he stays? Now that we know what to expect from ourselves, from DSS and from the process, maybe it would all be easier next time around?

Is that crazy?