Category Archives: fostering

So Different

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58626-Change quotes and sayings mean

February 2013 I took my daughters to Winnipeg. Sloane* desperately wanted to see snow. We’d hardly had any at that point. So we packed up for an extended weekend with my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew. In snow covered Winnipeg the temperatures ranged from –10 celcius to -30. We attended a festival, ice skated, and hiked all out of doors. Elise* and I were not fit for the climate. Sloane, however, loved the frosty temperatures.
Last year my life was complete different than it is now. The change in weather this winter seems to accentuate this fact. It’s been bitterly cold – often -20 – and there have been more snow storms than I care to count.
This time last year my house was full with four girls. Most weekends there were one or two extras. Sloane was struggling in school and refusing to use the toilet. Most days were challenging beyond belief.
Now I’m homeschooling. There are a few accidents here and there – but out of carelessness not the defiance Sloane exhibited last year. In the midst of last year’s challenges, it was difficult to image a way out. For some, change is subtle and hardly detectible. For me it’s dramatic and extreme. And I do it all the time.
After great reflection on my plight with the local Children’s Aid, I’ve decided to return to the private agency. I fostered with them for five years. Somewhere deep in my heart was a dream of rocking babies to sleep. That hasn’t happened. The closest I came to a baby was the 16mth old who was bigger than my 4yr old – Elise (see from 2 to 4).
So here I am – back where I was – only everything has changed. There are new policies and procedures. Regardless of my five years of spotless service, I have a six month probation period where I can only provide relief for other foster parents. “There aren’t any exceptions to the new policy,” the director informed me. I’m accustomed to being exceptional. Everything about me is exactly that – exceptional.
I don’t like this new rule. But at least I’ll be able to provide relief for my friend’s three girls. They’ve been coming to me weekends and vacation time since she got them – one 5yrs years ago, the other two 4yrs ago. It’ll be another 4yrs before two of them age out of foster care. And 8yrs before the other turns 18. The girls and their foster parents have become like family. Though we’ve still spent a great deal of time together, my girls really miss having them over “to sleep. It’s so much better,” Sloane tells me. I’m happy to be having them back on a regular basis. But I really don’t like this new policy.
At the same time, I can’t do another round of 6wks. That’s how long all the children from the local Children’s Aid have stayed. I’m not cut out for the coming and going, nor are my girls. It’ll be better for us all when someone comes to stay.
Here I go changing again. I can promise you next year will look nothing like this year.

*name changed

Now That was Fun

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As you may have detected in my last post, I was rather nervous about this weekend. In addition to my own girls – 6&4 – I had three foster children coming – aged 6, 5, and 2. March break was a flop with a rather difficult 3yr old visiting while his foster mom was away. The reports described him as much less challenging than he really was.

Thankfully in this case the opposite was true. Night terrors, difficulty sleeping, and aggressive behaviours were all listed. But these little ones really surprised me. They were well mannered and easy going – except for the 2yr old. He was a bit of a handful. Mainly the struggles stemmed from the fact that he hardly speaks. He’s a bright little boy who understands everything going on around him. Slowly he’s learning to articulate his thoughts and desires. Often he’d get frustrated with me and the kids because we didn’t understand his small gestures and sounds. In many ways I was reminded of the initial struggles with Elise*. She arrived in a similar state.

Sloane* connected well with the 6yr old boy. They dressed up in superheroIMG_20140322_093836 costumes – something Sloane had requested for Christmas. Elise and the 5yr old girl dressed as butterflies and hosted tea parties. It was a beautiful time.

I even managed to disconnect the dishwasher Sunday morning trying to discover the reason why it wasn’t draining properly. Doing all I could to solve the problem, I left it and got myself and all the children ready in time for church. This brought an amazing sense of accomplishment. However, we discovered the 6yr old’s boots hadn’t dried from being outside yesterday.

Scrounging through my reserves – seems somehow I have every shoe and clothing size imaginable – all I could come up with was a pair of white high tops with pink and gold accents. Though I do have an incredible array of clothing 80% of it is girls. Since he couldn’t be persuaded to wear the sneakers, we didn’t go to church.

The children left happy, asking to return soon. Sadly it’s unlikely we’ll cross paths again. Despite the threat of night terrors, we made it through two nights with only a minor incident. At 3am Sunday morning, the 5yr old girl, quietly crying, came into my room. “The wind is bothering me,” she said. The trees along the exterior wall of her room can be quite boisterous as they scrape along the siding. She decided to switch beds and went right back to sleep. I even managed to shower both mornings.

After that success, I’m feeling a bit more in the swing of things as a foster mom. I’m surprisingly refreshed after that busy weekend.

*name changed

Not Staying

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Yesterday 9yr old Flora* and 7yr old Marcus* returned to their mother. It was expected. A few weeks ago in court, the judge made it clear he’d be ruling this way at the hearing on March 18. The social workers were surprised by this. As far as they could see there was good reason to keep the children in foster care. As far as I could see there was good reason. However the judge disagreed.

“It’s too bad,” my social worker said. “The kids have a really good situation here with you. More than likely they’ll be back in a short while. But you’re can’t wait around for that.”

It’s true, I can’t. There are some children over the years I’ve waited for. As much as I liked these two, I can’t wait for them to return to foster care.

Our time together was just short of 6 weeks. That seems to be my limit. All three of the placements I’ve had with Children’s Aid have been 6 weeks. Strange. Every other local foster parent I encounter averages 1 year. Not me. So far it’s been short and not so sweet. With the expectation of returning to birth parents or going to other family members looming over the kids heads it’s hard to make a connection.

Flora’s parting words offered me a bit of comfort. “I wish I could live with you and my mom because I really like being her.”

Our brief time together wasn’t always pleasant. I found myself getting frustrated with the mounds of garbage they left around the house. Marcus’s toileting issues wore on me. Flora often wanted to bake with me, but sometimes I wanted to be left alone. It wasn’t my finest moments as a foster parent. Don’t think I didn’t try at all. I did. I organized a lovely birthday party for Flora. I listened to all of Marcus’ jokes. We read books together when my own girls were in bed. I took good care of them. It just wasn’t a great time for any of us. They wanted to be with their mom. And she kept telling them that was going to happen – very soon. Before that announcement, they were settling in. Flora even told her teacher I was going to adopt her. Marcus kept talking about all the fun we’d have in summer. Staying wasn’t a bad thing when there were no other options. When going back to mom became the plan, staying became very unappealing. So we all just hung on until yesterday’s court date.

Since their departure I’ve rearranged all three children’s rooms. That’s what I do. I rearrange the furniture as I put my life back together. We’re back to our little family of 3 for a few days. Friday we’re expecting 3 visitors for the weekend. In addition to my 6yr old and 4yr old girls, I will have a 6yr old boy, 5yr old girl, and 2yr old boy. They’ll just be with us until Sunday while their foster parents go on vacation.

The house is not quite ready for our next adventure so I have no pictures.

I wasn’t able to get any non-identifying photos of Flora & Marcus, so not pictures.

I’ll leave it all to your imagination. Mine is currently running wild as I think of the upcoming weekend. It’s sure to be an adventure.

*name changed

Not What I Expected

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Tonight I asked 6yr old Sloane* to sweep the kitchen. It’s a chore she’s been dreaming of since she arrived three years ago. But actually doing it

spunky Sloane

spunky Sloane

didn’t hold her interest for long. After running upstairs to deal with another situation, I came down to find only half the room done. Sloane had moved on to something else.

I called her back and said, “You only swept half the kitchen.”

“Yeah,” she answered, “I didn’t know what you were expecting.”

“I was expecting it all to be done.”

“Well, that’s not what I was planning on.”

This exchange sums up my life in ways I can’t begin to explain. As mentioned in my last post (March Madness), we had a 3yr old foster boy with us for the past ten days. The social worker and his foster mom described him as very shy and withdrawn. I worried how he’d fare in my boisterous household. Turns out he was anything but quiet. He dominated the atmosphere of our home. In a negative way he changed everything. For the first time I was at a loss. I had no idea how to curb all the behaviours. Most importantly – for me – I had no idea how to get him to sleep. He simply wouldn’t most nights. His foster mom said bedtime was easy. It was not so for me.

We muddled through then something shifted on Thursday. After another difficult visit with a foster mom friend, things got better. A comment she made changed my perspective. “He’s too young to have that scary look.” There were moments the look in his eyes struck terror in both of us. It was frightening.

I must admit I’m not always objective. Once I had a 13yr old pregnant foster child staying with me. Doing her laundry I was at first appalled by the lacy lingerie. Then I remembered, someone had bought this for her. Probably it was her mother who obviously wasn’t doing a very good job watching over her.

With everything thrown at foster parents sometimes you, or at least I, forget the kids are the victims. They didn’t choose this. Eric*, the visiting 3yr old, didn’t invite that level of anger into his heart. Someone else put it there. So I started praying it off. His temper tantrums became less prevalent. Joy began overtaking him. There were still trials – especially when we went to visit another friend of mine. Like Sloane, social settings seem to be a challenge for Eric.

In our final days together, he followed me around saying, “What are you doing mom?” I’d tell him and he’d chatter away. Apparently he doesn’t talk much at his regular foster home. “Every once in a while he’ll sing and I love hearing it because he’s happy,” the foster mom said when dropping him off. He sang, laughed, and smiled lots. In the end he was very happy.

Nothing about him was what I expected. But, in my case, life rarely is what I expected.

those eyes

those eyes

He left a few hours ago. I kind of miss him. Maybe we could have made more progress had we been together longer. I don’t know. But at least, in the midst of all the anger and chaos, I found his heart. Praying as he’s loved and cared for at his regular foster home, Eric continues to move past the inherited anger fighting to keep him. Praying he finds the courage to love.

*name changed

 

March Madness

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March madness has nothing to do with basketball. In my house the mayhem this year beats all others. Marcus* and Flora*s mother is expected to regain custody of them March 18th. The kids are excited but with that comes heightened anxiety. For Marcus it manifests in toileting issues and a need to control. Perhaps in anticipation of being back with an often absent mother, he’s attempting to parent the children in our home. That doesn’t go over well with me. I like being the boss. When I tell 4yr old Elise* to pick up a banana she dropped on the ground Marcus need not reprimand her for being off her seat at mealtime. What he really needs to do is start using the toilet.

Added to this excitement is an ornery 3yr old. His foster mom is on vacation this week. That’s what people do over March break. As a rule I’ve always taken in extra children. It’s not much of a break. The social worker described this little boy as, “well behaved but very shy.” His foster mom agreed, adding Eric* doesn’t have much of an appetite.

Monday night Eric was up until 10:30pm. His bed time is 7pm. “He has no trouble going to sleep,” his foster mom assured me. That’s not been the case. Since his arrival Thursday evening the earliest he’s slept has been 9pm. For reference, I’m an introvert. The time after 8pm when all children are in bed is something I deeply covet. It helps keep me sane. Five nights with little to no alone time is not making me a happy camper.

Tuesday morning, Eric was up at 6:30am. I must add that Sunday the

Eric & Elise picking out some cars to play with

Eric & Elise picking out some cars to play with

mainfloor toilet became clogged. Contents from Eric’s diaper refused to flush. Despite a few attempts I’ve not been able to fix it. This necessitates me hustling everyone into the upstairs bathroom to pee before I shower in the morning.

At the breakfast table Eric’s muffled speech became crystal clear as he shouted repeatedly, “I hungry!” Since arriving he’s hardly left the table. All day long he demands to be fed. His foster mom mentioned he generally won’t eat meat. But he’s definitely a carnivore here, gobbling up second and third helpings of meatloaf at dinner on Saturday. He has toast while Elise, sitting beside him, has cereal. When Eric’s done he shouts for more. I’ve not yet served the other children. He must wait. This doesn’t go over well. He becomes enraged. Eric whips his cup of juice at me. This isn’t the first time he’s thrown dishes at me because I’ve given him something he doesn’t like or don’t move fast enough for him. I decide it better be the last.

“That is not allowed,” I say. Picking Eric up, I take him to his room. He screams. Better there than at the table. Downstairs I have a hard time pulling myself together. I’m annoyed and letting everyone know.

Somehow I get us all dressed and out the door for a 10am dentist appointment. Marcus assures me his pull up is clean and dry. But my nose says otherwise. The stench furthers the bad mood I’m already in. Since we’re in the area, I stop by WalMart with five children. There are a 1,000 things I have to say no to. All I really need is something to unclog the toilet and butter. I buy an excessive amount of frozen pizzas for dinner. Then remember I must feed them lunch. Back home that becomes overwhelming. Marcus really has soiled himself. He refuses to change his pull up. Eric needs to be changed. Children are arguing all around me.

It’s a beautiful day. I should take them to the park. Another snow storm is due tomorrow. Marcus has again soiled himself. We go through the usual routine. Just before lunch I discovered a recently discarded pull up under his bed. Again he denies needing to change. I insist pointing out the incident before lunch. Marcus is not convinced. This exchange goes on far too long. Time is getting away from us. The lawyer is due at 3:30pm to meet with Flora and Marcus. I give up.

Sloane*, Elise, Flora, and Eric go into the backyard. I try to rid Marcus’ room of the horrible stench that’s settled upon it. Sloane’s hardly out the door before she’s stirring up trouble. I give a warning from Marcus’ window. Then I have to go downstairs to bring her in. It’s not without a fight. I win but am covered in mud. With her squared away in her room for some “quiet time”, Eric decides to come inside. I get his boots off, but he isn’t happy.

Flora comes in. She pretends to go the bathroom, but it’s already too late. She leaves wet undergarments on the floor and goes back outside like nothing happened. I find the items. While debating what to do, Eric lets the dog in (did I mention we’re dog sitting this week? Let me also tell you the dog keeps waking me up at 3am for no apparent reason.) Eric retrieves his muddy boots from outside. Eric and the dog run about the mainfloor making parallel tracks of mud.

Sloane decides she can “really fly” with the wings from her butterfly costume. She’s climbing on tables and attempting to jump off. “Maybe I’ll try from on top of the house!” I don’t have time to explain why she can’t. The answer is simply, “No! And get off the table.”

I mop the floor. Marcus then Flora shower. They’re not fully dry when the lawyer arrives. But I do have the other kids quietly watching a movie upstairs. I’ve bribed them with chips.

Eric comes down wanting more to eat. I give him a banana. He devours it. When I refuse him more chips he throws the bowl and banana peel, narrowly missing the lawyer. “He’s a visiting foster child. I don’t know what to do with him,” is what I’d like to say to everyone who encounters us.

When the lawyer leaves I lay on the couch for 5 minutes checking facebook hoping to find something interesting in someone else’s life. Giving Eric another banana and a piece of bread I tackle the toilet. Locking myself in, I ignore his cry for more food. Eric throws shoes at the bathroom door. He overturns chairs. He continues to shout, “I hungry!” I continue working but to no avail.

On a brighter note, Eric was asleep by 8:40pm! Mind you, it wasn’t in his bed. But I did get him there. Thank goodness there’s an end in sight. By this time next week, it could be back to just Sloane, Elise, and I.

*name changed

sisters early in the morning

sisters early in the morning (too early for Elise to put on a smile)