This has been one of the best weekends in recent memory. Absolutely nothing grandiose about it; all we did yesterday was clean, clean, clean, clean, clean. "We" being weef and me. The girls sat around and watched movies all day. Not something I normally condone, but in order to accomplish what we wanted to do, it was a necessary evil. 'sides, it wasn't like we had them watching "The Matrix," or "Braveheart" ... they watched "Ice Age," "Cars," "Lady and the Tramp," and a couple of others.
The last few months have been frought with frustration and frenzied attempts to control tempers and tongues--especially on the weekends when everyone's home. It seems like, ever since the adoption, the adversary has been working quadruple time on us to try to tear us apart. I'm sorry to say that, on some small levels, I think he succeeded on a number of occasions. What can I say? We're not perfect. We do, however, try to put one foot forward instead of two feet backwards. In that, we're doing really well.
This weekend is what I consider the pinnacle of those attempts. The girls, weef and I seem to have come to some form of mutual understanding: the girls understand that we're in this for the long haul; we understand that they still harbor feelings of occasional doubt and fear that we attemt to allay with overdoses of hugs, kisses, and affection. Girl one--the one who remembers all the gory, sick, sordid details of the whole foster care ordeal--now smiles with regularity. Her eyes are bright, vibrant, and full of love. Girl two has literally no trace memory of what happened. We thank God every night that she doesn't. We also pray fervently that girl one will be relieved of her memories of her life before. I think we're there.
This weekend has been perfect. Headache and backache aside, I couldn't have asked for a better two days.