Holidays generally have me thinking of food. Thanksgiving is all about turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie. This year I’m thankful for food in a surprising manner – not just that we have it but that I have access to an … Continue reading
Giving Thanks
At Last!
It’s slightly comical this occurred on Thursday. Ages ago, I intended to blog regularly and was going to have Thursdays be all about my progress in trying to adopt again. Then reality set in and there’s been nothing at all … Continue reading
Now She’s 6
On September 19th Athena turned 6. It was a relatively small celebration. My parents weren’t able to come over for dinner which is usually part of the festivities. We went to their place the weekend before for a bit of cake. And we’ll get together over Thanksgiving when my sister and her family are down and my mom is back from a conference out west.
When I have foster children, I’m prone to extravagance. Athena arrived three months before her 2nd birthday. I made her a dress, a cake, invited a fellow foster family over for dinner. There were streamers, balloons, party hats, and fancy plates. It was all picture perfect. Since the adoption took place, I’ve slowly been moving away from that self-inflicted pressure.
Last year we celebrated with friends at a local indoor playground then had my parents over for dinner. Some of those friends have since moved away and the playground is closed on Saturdays. Athena would have been happy to replicated last year’s festivities but that wasn’t possible.
So we had to come up with something else. She selected a Frozen birthday cake – made by her favourite cake maker. The picture we saw on-line had one Olaf. “For the birthday girl,” I said. Athena couldn’t imagine not sharing. She ordered three Olafs so that she, her sister, and our foster child could each have one. I’m continually surprised by Athena’s generosity.
Our foster child was leaving early the day of Athena’s birthday for an overnight visit, so we had cake the night before. Then opened presents after breakfast. Athena picked out the colours for the tutu I made her. She spent the morning playing with her new toys (including a Frozen patio set). 
Then we headed to McDonald’s playland. I’ve been living in a small town for over seven years now. I forget what the city is like on a weekend. The line up to order food was nearly out the door at McDonald’s. And the playland was crowded with kids from a birthday party. We got drive-thru and went to a secluded park. Athena was happy to run around the baseball diamond with her sister.
At home, they watched a movie Athena picked out at the library. There was popcorn with candy Athena chose from the Bulk Barn. This year’s birthday was all about Athena making choices. Sometimes that’s hard for her. She doesn’t always know her own mind. Often, as an accommodating second child, she defers to Raine – who is very opinionated and always knows what she wants. But Athena was able to make choices on her own. She didn’t even tell Raine about the three Olafs on the cake. That was a surprise Athena planned for Raine and our foster child. She also picked out a movie and candy, ignoring Raine’s suggestions. Not that I want her to disregard those around her, but Athena could stand to know her own mind a little more. So that’s what this birthday ended up being.
It was low key and not very impressive, but Athena was wildly happy. And, I suppose, that’s all that matters. There’s no need to impress social workers with elaborate parties. I’m now free to live in a manner that satisfies my child. As the day evolved, I decided to enjoy the liberty. That made the celebration, small and casual as it was, a source of joy instead of something I felt the need to apologize for. Athena was happy. That’s all that I needed to worry about.
And now she’s 6. Growing and changing, Athena continues to amaze me. She’s often silly and loves to laugh. She’s quick to forgive and eager to give all she has. Birthdays always remind me of when she arrived – shy and shut down. My lovely daughter is nothing like that now. She’s full of life and love. I’m so glad she’s mine.
The Look of Love
Last weekend, at a visit our 9yr old foster child was told in 2mths she’ll be leaving us to live with her mother. Her dad’s certainty contradicted everything the social worker and I have said. In truth, there is no way of knowing what will become of J. Everything is still very much up in the air. But it’s quite certain, nothing is certain at this point.
J returned home quite distraught, likely heightened by the fact she was only fed M&M’s for lunch. She was starving and angry. It wasn’t long before she was melting down.
“If I’m leaving, I want to go now,” she said in the midst of her tantrum.
I reminded her that bad behaviour is not going to get her moved from my house because we really want her to stay. And it is a good place for her right now while we wait to see what will happen.
“Then I’ll kill you all so I can go,” she went on. “My dad told me you have to be 12 to go to kids jail. So I won’t get in trouble for killing you. I’ll just get to live somewhere else.”
Seems dad was a wealth of information.
I let J scream out her frustrations. Then she went to bed and, I assumed, woke up in a better frame of mind. Then at church, J decided she didn’t want Raine sitting near her. Raine ignored this demand and sat in front of the girl. J began kicking Raine’s back. Raine shouted at her to stop. J didn’t so Raine hit her. And both girls erupted. Or so I’ve pieced together from the Children’s Pastor and the girls themselves. I was paged and came to collect my unruly children.
I do appreciate the team who work in the children’s department. I know they go out of their way to manage and have often kept Raine when she’s well outside the range of acceptable behaviour. Their commitment to my kids is incredibly valuable. It grants me a brief time of peace each week as I take in the service. Despite their best efforts, the teachers could not separate and calm J and Raine.
I gathered them and Athena from the classroom. J didn’t follow me up the stairs but took off running. When I went in search of her, she was in a hallway huffing and puffing. To my instructions to come upstairs, J answered, “I’m not leaving with you. I’m going to behave so badly that I move somewhere else today.” We reviewed the fact that bad behaviour won’t get her moved – I’m committed to caring for her as long as necessary.
“I don’t want to go in 2 months. I want to go now!”
“You’re not going anywhere today. And probably not in 2 months,” I answered. “Your dad doesn’t have the ability to decide what will happen. He and your mom have been asked to do certain things so that it will be safe for you to be with them. If they do those things, a judge will decide if you go to live with your dad or your mom. But for now, you’re staying with me.”
She came to the car – kicking and scratching all the way. I drove to a nearby park, letting Raine and Athena play while J screamed and kicked inside the car. Then it was time to go out for lunch and shopping for Athena’s birthday. J pulled herself together. And managed the rest of the day without incident. At bed, she snuggled close to me and talked all about how much she loves being at our house.
It would be easier if love didn’t manifest as death threats when the possibility of leaving comes up. It would be nicer if love wasn’t a wall of hatred brought up to distance herself in the face of potential separation. But this is the look of love when you come from a place of brokenness and fear. This is how I know my care and investment have made a difference. This is the look of love in foster care.
For the Love of Carrots
Saturday mornings, I have a booth at the local farmer’s market. In hopes of getting some extra money for a newer vehicle (which you’re welcome to help with), I sell tea, granola, muesli, and organic bread. 
Intending to buy a bunch of fruit from one of the vendors, I didn’t pack very many snacks for the kids this week. The regular fruit vendor, however, did not show up. That suited Raine just fine. The vegetable farmer beside us has carrots she really likes.
I sent her over to buy a bunch. But she came back with two. Raine spent five hours either talking about her love of carrots, eating them, or caressing her face with the carrots. Freshly picked, the dirt from them smeared all over her face and hands. But she didn’t care. Didn’t even want to wash them before eating them. Bags of chips were turned down as she begged for another bunch of carrots.
The grower of these carrots, in his mid-20’s and childless, kept commenting, “I’ve never known anyone to love carrots quite that much.” He flippantly invited Raine to come pick some this week. She, of course, thought him to be serious and asked me to fix an exact date and time.
He tried to explain the toil involved in harvesting carrots, mistakenly thinking this would deter Raine from wanting to come. It didn’t. She assured him, she’s very strong and certainly up to the task. “I can even pick up my sister and she’s much heavier than a carrot,” Raine explained.
She took his business card, promising to be there because “I really love carrots.”
As most people are, the man was completely overwhelmed by Raine’s tenacity. He gave her a bell pepper as a parting gift.
The entire drive home, Raine continued talking about her love of carrots until Athena finally shouted, “We know! We know you love carrots! Stop telling us!” Yes, for the love of carrots, could you stop talking about them for a moment, I thought to myself. But out loud agreed to think about taking her to the farm to pick some.
Wonderfully Unusual 