Small Graces

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Yesterday I took Jake* for a hair cut. Just before dropping him off to me, Jake’s foster mom finally got permission to trim his hair. It’s been too long since he came into foster care but the go ahead from his birth mom was required. Finally getting it, Jake’s foster mom didn’t have time to complete the task before leaving for vacation.

“If you want to you can,” she said. It did seem wise, he was looking unkept and hair blocked his view. But it was frightening. I didn’t know how he would respond. Baths and showers bring on absolute panic. Jake kicks, pinches, and screams. I was anticipating something of the same with a haircut.

My plan was to put it off as long as possible. Then when I woke yesterday with an urgency, “We need to do this today.” So we set off, stopping at the park briefly. The local chain of discount hair cutters wasn’t too busy. We had to sit through the cut of one other customer. I brought ketchup chips, cheesies, and pretzels. Not ideal – they were pretty messy – but novel so it kept everyone occupied. My own kids don’t have much experience with hair dressers so I was expecting a million questions.

Then there’s Jake who is a handful in the best of moments. We all managed beautifully. The male hair dresser was kind and enthusiastic. His parents fostered when he was growing up. He understood and was willing to work with the situation. I held Jake trying to keep him still which never happened. The hair dresser did what he could any way he could.

Just before we began that balancing act, a lady from church arrived with her grown daughter who needed a haircut. The lady kindly occupied my own girls, answering their questions and carry on a lengthy conversation with Raine. That enabled me to completely focus on Jake without Raine & Athena feeling neglected. They were very happy to have someone else enjoying them.

The urge to go to this place at this time was a small one. It could have easily been ignored in favour of fear. I’m glad I listened. We got the right hair dresser and the Lord even provided someone to help with the other kids. These small graces remind me the Lord is mindful of my situation.

*name changed

new hair cut

Jake recovering at home on the floor after his hair cut

 

*name changed

Knowing it Won’t Work

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Jake* has been with us the past three weekends. Today he returned and will be staying for 10 days while his foster family are on vacation.

Tuesday, August 5th my social worker met with me to do some training. Then she announced my probation period had come to an end. It was supposed to be 6mths but, thankfully, has been shortened. The reason for the leniency was the hope that Jake could move to my home.

Thanks to some inquiries made by my friend who works for the same fostering agency, I was ready for the offer. And had my mind made up. “For the same reason it’s not working where he is, it won’t work for us.” His current foster mom is requesting shared care. Between the two of us we could likely manage. But Jake, without school or daycare, is a little much for anyone.

He’s sweet and caring. When he goes non-stop then doesn’t sleep all night, it’s tiring for his caregivers. There’s no way of knowing if he’ll sleep or for how long. Being on call 24hrs a day, 7 days a week isn’t feasible. It’s just not.

Jake snacking on tomatoes while I try to can spaghetti sauce

Jake snacking on tomatoes while I try to can spaghetti sauce

So I said no. The social worker didn’t really understand. She used to work with autistic children in a school setting. Her suggestion is reward charts and using candy as an incentive. That may work for Jake in the future. At the moment he’s not able to understand. So that means endlessly redirecting and trying to anticipate what he might do. And sitting up with him into the wee hours of the night, waiting for him to fall asleep so we can wake in a few hours and start it all again.

I know he needs a home. He deserves to settle down, in a loving environment. But I’m not able to provide that long-term.

There are three things I need to pull off this single parenting gig I’ve gotten myself into: a good night’s sleep, time alone each evening, the opportunity to connect with friends. With Jake, I don’t get any of those things. We will make it through the next 10 days. But I can’t commit with no end in sight.

Sorry. That’s just the way it is. Still, knowing it won’t work doesn’t make the decision any easier.

*name changed

The Risk of Love

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quote-about-lossRaine has been struggling since my grandmother passed away. There have been some good days but mostly she’s been very off. The herbal medication that’s been working wonders for nearly a year is no longer making any difference. Most of the time, Raine is edgy and filled with anxiety.

When I ask how I can help, her answer is, “Can you change death? That’s all that can help me now.” Loss has marked her life in a variety of ways. Losing her great-grandmother is likely opening old wounds.

To cope, Raine and Athena play “funeral”. Athena pretends to be dead. Raine races around the house “trying to get to the funeral on time!” No doubt this has to do with the concern about being late for my grandmother’s funeral. As we were about to leave, the dog we’re watching escaped from the backyard. Piling the kids and the babysitter into the car, we drove around to find him. Then I brought them all to my parents’ house where the babysitter was to watch my kids and my nephew. Arriving slightly later than I’d hoped, my brother-in-law was no where near ready. So we waited. With whispered speculations, I wondered if we’d make it on time.

In the children’s game, there are several versions. In one, Raine makes it on time and is unsure how to mourn the loss of her sister. Another involves Raine being so late she misses the funeral and Athena is already buried – under a blanket or the dinning room table. In the third version, “Jesus makes Athena come alive again.” Then there is much rejoicing and no need for a funeral.

Hoping to ease Raine’s grief, we visited my grandmother’s grave last Friday. I graveside2brought daisies from our garden for the girls to put there. We parked by the funeral home, then walked across the bridge and over to the cemetery. That way Raine would have the full picture of the funeral and graveside procession.

I don’t know if it helped. But we did it.

Mostly, I’ve been telling her how brave she is. “You love even though your heart’s been hurt. That makes you especially brave.” It is remarkably brave for Raine to open her heart to so many when she’s lost so much in her short life (birth parents, other birth siblings, the home she knew, the country she was born in, friends of mine who have moved on with life, Sabrina* and Megan* – foster children who were with us for a very long time – and the list goes on).

Still Raine greets everyone with confident exuberance. She’s sure she’ll be loved and is ready to do the same. Even in the midst of grief, Raine is choosing to love.

*name changed

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Moving Past Normality

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Last weekend we had a 3 1/2 yr old little boy with us. I knew what I was getting into, but his foster parents didn’t when they said yes to the placement call. 3 1/2 sounded good. According to the social worker, there was a “slight possibility” of autism. The diagnosis hasn’t come yet, but autism seems fairly certain.

The little boy is vocal (makes noises) but non-verbal (doesn’t say any actual words). He’s much like an 8mth old in the body of a 3yr old. He can run, climb, and maneuver around. But like a young baby, there’s no consideration or comprehension and everything goes in his mouth.

bedtime snack after the splash pad

bedtime snack after the splash pad

It was challenging but we made it through the weekend. Monday I got a call asking me to take him for 2 1/2 weeks at the end of August while his foster family are on vacation. With nothing else coming along, I said yes.

Today his foster mom called the social worker begging for some extra support. He’s only been sleeping a couple hours each night. That wouldn’t be so bad if he stayed in his crib. But he climbs out and escapes from his room. Obviously it’s not safe for him to be wandering around alone. So his foster mom has been up with him all week.

He’s back with me this weekend so she can get some sleep.

Forgive me, if you saw me at the splash pad this evening. He loves water. It’s the only thing that captures his attention for more than a fleeting moment. Jake* did really well running and playing. Periodically he’d check in with me as I watched from the edge.

Then I shifted position to say hello to a lady from church. After a while Jake began looking for me. He rarely responds to his name. Words seem to float outside of his comprehension. So, after saying his name I clapped. Gasp. It generally works in getting his attention. Like a typical, healthy 3yr old he can run like the wind. Not wanting him to bolt, I tried to get his attention. And I did. Please forgive my method.

Raising unique children, often I need to move past normality. I wouldn’t normally clap or snap at a child. But for Jake the clapping works (not great at the splash pad where there are lots of other loud noises, but at home it’s effective.) Snapping works great with Raine. Sometimes she’ll get herself in a tizzy where words can’t reach her. Then I snap and she can hear me again.

Sometimes in this life/job the rule book has to go out the window.

*name changed

Sentiment

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fade-memories-memory-photography-quote-saying-Favim.com-88485

Thus far, most of my life has taken place prior to social media. I’ve never owned a camera. Even now, I only have one because it’s on my phone. Despite carrying it with me always, I often forget to capture what’s happening.

My youth and young adult life have passed without much to remember them by. I have dresses (most of which I made), some sentimental birthday cards, and a few tokens – like programs from plays. Some of my most profound relationships have passed with nothing to show for it. There’s no card, no scrap of paper, no photograph, no dress that I wore on a special night. There’s nothing. It may be this void that keeps me hanging onto the momentous I do have.

This past week I’ve been sorting through old memorabilia (reorganizing around my new business workspace). I’ve managed to condense the dresses down to one suitcase. My body was once much smaller. It may never be again. I don’t hold onto these garments with hopes of wearing them. They remain – some having moved with me nearly a dozen times – to remind me of the past.

In the drudgery of everyday life as a stay at home mom, those times catch my heart and make me smile. Not that my current life doesn’t afford moments of joy. It does. There are many moments and relationships worth remembering. Still, there’s something romantic about the past. In my youth, I failed to appreciate how carefree life really was. There was a yearning in my heart to get here – motherhood.

I’m here. And it’s glorious – sometimes. Most often it’s simply a great deal of work. Quite often I find myself singing along to the Stars…..”All I want is one more chance to be young and wild and free…..” What would you do with that chance? Instead of racing towards the next phase, I’d savour every moment of freedom.

suitcase full of memories

suitcase full of memories