We've been busy the last month.

Between The Hub leaving for his second week long business trip and all the sturm und drang that went with it, my sister's wedding the next week, in-home visits on 5 consecutive days from people involved in Huckle's case, Hubs beginning the transition from work-at-work to work-at-home, pneumonia for me... well, we were basically screwed.

Now, I adore Huckle. He isn't going anywhere.

But in the last few weeks, I've just about had enough.

A bad day around here is when I can't take a step toward him without him screaming, when the only time he looks at me is when he's hungry, when I kiss him goodnight and he punches me in the mouth, when he sings, "I hate Mommy, I hate Mommy," over and over, when he puts pillows over my face while I sleep at night, when he tells me that Daddy loves him, not Mommy, and there's more, I'm just done listing things now.

On good days, he accepts a majority of hugs or kisses, we have nice chats about types of birds and trains and trucks, we play playdoh and put stickers on papers, we work on flashcards, we dance to James Brown (oh, can this kid dance! He tore up the stage at my sister's wedding), we take the dogs for walks and he rides his trike, and he snuggles with me under a quilt while we watch Wonder Pets together.

Now, I know that three months isn't long in a Grand Scheme sort of way, and yes, I know it isn't really me he's mad at, and yes, I know things will improve. I get it.

No amount of understanding makes it any easier to take, though. After one of the bad days, when I'm crying myself to sleep, the whole concept of transference can get fucked.

It isn't Huck's fault. It isn't my fault. All at once, no one is responsible for what has happened to him, and everyone is. How far back in his family would we have to go to find proper parenting models, or good decision making when it comes to partners, sobriety, or financial security? How long ago should the state have decided that Huck's mom wouldn't be coming back whole anytime soon? Or should she have been given another chance? Is it good that he bonded so closely with his first foster family, only to be reunited with his mother, then removed again, bounced between 4 homes in two weeks, with us as number four? What if his social worker hadn't avoided certain questions we had and omitted information -- would we have been able to take some sorts of action when we first brought him home, or would we have passed on the chance to parent him?

Even though things are bad sometimes, I cannot stress enough that he is So Much Better than he was when we first met him. Not just physically, not just developmentally, but even emotionally. Yes, he's acting out a lot more, and yes, it is very hard to deal with, but for now I will take that over the shell shocked, pale, listless little boy who called every color green.

We are making it. We're rough around the edges, quite haggard, in fact, and there's so much more pinging around my brain that I don't even know how to get out succinctly, but I suppose this will have to do.