Tag Archives: adoption

Back to School!

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I was 10yrs old when God dropped the dream of adopting on me (see Adoption). 25yrs is a long time to dream. I imagined bringing tiny babies home, naming them, loving them, and knowing they were mine. Of course reality hasn’t been like that. I got a 3yr old and 21mth old. I was able to give them middle names. And I’m immensely happy with their first names. I loved them slowly and not completely at first, aware that up until the adoption was legalized in January I could lose them at any moment. That’s the reality of foster care. It’s taken all of us quite a while to come to terms with permanency.

I dreamed of traveling to Europe, tea parties, blissful evenings spent reading classic literature, and home schooling. Owing to immigration issues our travel is limited to visiting family within Canada. Several years ago, when I began fostering, I gave up tea in favour of coffee. The blissful evenings may come as we work on building attention spans within the diagnosis of ADHD. I’m not sure how, as a child, I planned to be a single parent and home school…….. Oh, right! I was going to be a writer – penning celebrated novels while my children frolicked in the yard behind our Victorian home. Though that hasn’t happened, the Lord has opened doors for me to be a stay-at-home mom. Between a government subsidy and fostering, we live comfortably in a spacious home circa 1980. There is a yard. Maybe one day the children will frolic so I can write the books running around in my head. In the meantime, one thing on my list is within my grasp – homeschooling.

Sloane* began Junior Kindergarten last year. It was a tumultuous time with the adoption taking place simultaneously. Having been with me over a year, the girls were “placed” with me for adoption the day after school began. This year has been rough to say the least. Sloane began mourning the loss of her birth family. Despite seeming continually angry at me, she hated being away from me. In protest, she took to soiling herself. At different points, once the adoption was finalized with the courts, I debated taking her out of school. It was, after all, only JK. But the thought of having her home full-time was terrifying. School was clearly detrimental but I couldn’t take the endless power struggles, tantrums, and hostility. She did generally come home furious at me but at least I had a few hours of peace.

Elise* is set to begin JK in September. I could, conceivably, be without children most days of the week with a full-day 5 day a week kindergarten program at the local school.

As mentioned in my post, Progress Report, I’ve been thinking. Here’s what I’ve come up with: I’m going to homeschool. Since Sabrina* moved out Sloane has become significantly more receptive

Sloane is excited about biking when school work's done

Sloane is excited about biking when school work’s done

(this past week being an exception). Her heart seems to be opening to me once again. This dramatic and unexpected shift has made homeschooling possible. At first I was going to keep both Sloane and Elise home. But after a few trial runs, thought otherwise. There’s still a lot of animosity between the two. Besides, maybe what Sloane needs is me all to herself for a while.

A fellow foster mom recently shared a quote with me, “The kids who need the most love will ask for it in the most unloving way.”

Praying I’m able to saturate Sloane with love in this season of homeschooling.

* name changed

Progress Report

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It’s been 20 days since my home opened with the local Children’s Aid. In all that time, I’ve not had one phone call. At first it was awkward being alone with my girls. Since they came to me as foster children over two years ago, there have always been other kids in the home. When I adopted them there were a few weekends when the foster children in the home were away. But we all knew they’d be back soon.

At first Sloane*, Elise*, and I waited on the edge of our seats for new foster children. But, as time’s gone on, we’ve settled into a rhythm of our own. With Sabrina* (the now 18yr old foster child who was with me 5yrs) gone some of Sloane’s hostility has lifted. Life has become manageable and enjoyable. There are still challenges and frustrations. Yet we’re coming together as a family. Immediately after Sabrina’s departure I began taking Sloane to a therapist. I was bracing myself for the worst. Overall Sloane’s coping well with the loss. She feels it – which is a good thing, a sign of healthy attachment – but it’s not crippling her.

With all my “free time” (only having my own two kids) I’ve turned my hall closet into a pantry and rearranged the kitchen.

closet turned pantry

closet turned pantry

We’ve been to the beach, raspberry picking, and to St Jacob’s market. I’m keeping up with laundry and all the little things Sabrina used to look after (in order to prepare her for adulthood). I’ve had lots of time to think about why I adopted and the life I want to create for my kids.

This time has been refreshing. I’ve been able to reorganize the house and my own thoughts. But, hopefully, the season soon changes and new foster children join us.

*name changed

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Elise at the beach

 

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Sloane with horse and bonnet from St Jacob’s

Ready? Set? Go!

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June 27, 2008 I began my career as a foster parent. Over the past 5yrs, with a private agency, I’ve had a total of 8 children come to me. The first, Sabrina*, has been with me since day one. For the past two years I’ve had the same 4 children in my care – two, Sloane* and Elise*, I managed to adopt. With Sabrina turning 18 and moving forward in life, now seemed like the time to change directions. I’m still fostering, but with the local Children’s Aid instead of the private agency.

Megan* never did recover from her trip across the border . Things continued to deteriorate, which made my decision somewhat easier. June 28, 2013 Megan moved to another foster home within the private agency. Since then Sabrina’s been a bundle of nerves, knowing her turn is coming. Years before I knew her, Sabrina was diagnosed with Attachment Disorder – which means heartfelt relationships are generally beyond her capacity. The amount of stress and tears she’s shedding is a testimony that I did somehow land in her guarded heart. However the hours Sabrina spends screaming that she hates me and wishes we’d never met doesn’t leave me warm and fuzzy. This is how she copes with the impending loss – trying to quench her emotions with hate.

So, in the midst of all this emotional upheaval, I’ve painted two bathrooms and two bedrooms (one somewhat voluntarily, the other because a weekend visitor trashed it….maybe more on that in a future post). I’ve rearranged my living room. I’ve built a wooden walkway in my front garden. I’ve bought two cribs (hopefully to be used in about 6mths time). Furniture and pictures have shifted from one floor to another. This is how I deal with loss. I decorate. I try to make it all beautiful. I change my surroundings so the absence of an individual isn’t as predominant because everything around me is different. That chair you used to sit in is no longer there, so maybe I won’t notice that you’re not here. Grief, loss, trauma. These are the hallmarks of my career.

And now, today, I start anew with another agency and a fresh batch of kids. I’m listed as being available for up to 3 girls between the ages of 6 and 12. In working directly with Children’s Aid there’s more uncertainty about how long the kids will stay (the private agency tended to have long term/permanent situations). So I may get to redecorate soon – but, depending on the turn over rate, might need to find a new coping strategy.

Here are the rooms as of this morning, my first official day with Children’s Aid…..praying for the little ones soon filling them!

ready for two

room for two

 

 

room for one

room for one

 

 

*name changed

A Lesson in Lying

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Truth seems to be an unfathomable concept for foster children. Sloane* has been with me over 2yrs (now no longer a foster child but adopted). Despite my best efforts she still doesn’t get it. Partially it’s the age – she turned 5 in February – but mostly it’s something else.

I’ve started playing a “game” Truth or Lie? with all of the kids. I will make a statement, for example: “Sloane has blue eyes”, they will answer: “truth” if it’s true “lie” if it’s a lie. This has been working great with 3yr old Elise*. She’s quick to blame everything on Sloane. When I ask, “Who coloured on the wall?” her answer is “Not me! Sloane did it!” There such conviction in her eyes, I believe her. Then I say, “Truth or lie? Elise coloured on the wall.” She hangs her head and replies, “Truth.”

Our lives have been fixated on truth or lie lately. It’s come to light 17yr old Sabrina* has been lying about a lot of things for a very long time. I’ve had suspicions but no proof. When I asked her response was so sincere I believed her. Her deeds may not seem that bad – she’s had an ipod for nearly 2yrs, stole my internet password, has been texting boys at all hours (telling me she’s doing things like folding laundry in her room). When caught, Sabrina’s response was, “You won’t let me date so I had to lie.” It’s not that I’m opposed to dating. But after some shocking revelations when Sabrina first began high school, I did ban it for her until she was willing to be honest about her actions so I could mentor/guide her. Unfortunately Sabrina’s approach to dating includes a large degree of secrecy. She’s never gotten to the point where she wants to be honest. I suppose banning it made no difference. Were she allowed she’d still lie and keep it a secret.

Anyways, some things have come to light. I’ve been unraveling Sabrina’s web of lies. We’ve been playing Truth or Lie? all the live long day which makes working a rail road seem incredibly appealing (for those unaware, there’s a children’s song that goes, “I’ve been working on the rail road all the live long day”). But instead of the back breaking work of railroad building, I’m here making Sabrina cry when I tell her she’s filled our house with lies and grown a spirit of deception in our family. It’s been an intense week.

Yesterday as Sloane returns from school, she’s excitedly shouting, “Look what I found! It’s a real bird’s nest!” That’s exactly what it looks like in her precious little hands. I let out a shriek. “Get that out of her!” I scream, chasing her down the hallway. Angrily, she dumps it out the front door.

Instantly I’m sorry for overreacting. My explanation of why I don’t want her touching birds’ nests is cut short. “It’s not a real bird’s nest,” Sloane says with distain. “I made it at school. We have things to make nests with there.”

“Oh my Lord!” I exclaim in all sincerity. Honestly, how can I teach her the value of truth? At a  loss I refuse to let the manufactured birds’ nest in the house since she lied about it being a real birds’ nest. It remains a few feet from the front door.

Let that be a lesson to you, children.

Sloane's birds' nest

Sloane’s birds’ nest

My Legs Are Tired!

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After a play date at the park, we headed over to the pharmacy. Sloane*, normally a bundle of energy, wanted to go in her sister Elise*’s stroller. Instead

of asking she just shouts in a menacing way, “MY LEGS ARE TIRED!” Sloane says this several times before I can jump in with, “There’s a proper way to ask for things.  Screaming at me does not get you what you want.” My words fall on deaf ears. Sloane has her own way of doing things. She continues screaming with a frightening amount of rage, “MY LEGS ARE TIRED!” Respectable retirees are out tending their gardens. I’m sure none of their children ever behaved this way. With Sloane’s voice reverberating through the quiet neighbourhood, I struggle to keep my composure. Finally, I bend down to face her and say, “That is enough. If you want to go in the stroller stop screaming and say, ‘mom, could I please go in the stroller.’” She doesn’t. The screaming continues. Tears stream down her face. A friend calls to see if we’re still going out for lunch. I stop walking and encourage Sloane to sit down on the sidewalk to rest her legs. She won’t. The screaming gets louder now that my attention is divided. Off the phone, after declining lunch, I give her a stern talking to. The point being we’re far from home and need to get her medication from the pharmacy. The behaviour meds (see Happy Birthday to Me) help her focus but her rage and frustration have been strong lately. It could be the medication or just Sloane processing more of her struggle. Recently we had a small adoption party and private dedication ceremony. Her birth grandparents came to bless the girls and got to meet my parents. It was challenging for Sloane to have her two worlds collide. So the recent rage could be about that or it could be depression caused by the medication. I don’t know.

Nearing the pharmacy, I tell Sloane she can sit down while I’m getting the medication. This doesn’t appease her. I’m ready to forgo the request that she ask properly to sit in the stroller. “If you’re quiet in the pharmacy you can have a turn in the stroller when we leave.” I’d like to promise her the whole way home, but I know Elise’s little legs won’t make it that far. She lacks Sloane’s stamina.

The screaming doesn’t diminish in the pharmacy. “MY LEGS ARE TIRED!” she shouts as I grab a few things we need before heading back to the

Sloane practicing her growl in the mirror.

Sloane practicing her growl in the mirror.

prescription pick up area. “You should sit down and rest your legs,” I say, indicating the row of chairs. An elderly woman occupies one. “My legs are tired so I’m sitting down,” she says kindly. Sloane growls at her then me because that’s what she does. She has a habit of growling – not in a cute cuddly way but barring her teeth and releasing an absolutely frightening sound. “No,” I say, picking her up and putting her on a chair. She immediately slides off still screaming, “MY LEGS ARE TIRED!” I try the chair again with the same result. I pick her up. But need to put her down a few minutes later to steer the stroller out of the store. The screaming continues.

Next to the pharmacy is a local bakery which Elise loves. I’d promised she could get a cookie when we first left the park. I’d like to skip it and hurry home, but then she’s missing out because of Sloane’s behaviour. Before going in I make the same offer, “If you’re quiet in the bakery you can have a turn in the stroller when we leave.” This time it works. Elise has discovered they give out free cookies at the bakery so she asks the lady working there for one. The only sound out of Sloane’s mouth is her asking me if she can have a cookie as well. I say yes. I buy buns, two cream horns, and a small rhubarb pie for myself.  This is why I’ve gained so much weight since I started fostering, after being assaulted by screaming I encourage myself with the likes of pie. Out of the bakery, I tell Elise to get out of the stroller. Sloane gets in. To entice her to walk, Elise gets a cream horn. Sloane is furious that she doesn’t get one. I try to explain screaming doesn’t warrant special treats but she can’t hear me because she’s screaming again.

Sloane in a happier moment

Sloane in a happier moment

My message that screaming doesn’t get you what you want isn’t being absorbed. Sloane still prefers to employ this approach. What she doesn’t get is that I’m just as determined as she is. It may take me a cream horn and some pie to get through, but I’m not going to give into these tactics. You’d think this lesson would have been learned after 2yrs together. I fairness to her, she does get it most of the time. But there are times Sloane’s emotions overwhelm her. Once she starts the screaming it’s hard for her to stop. Praying for a deeper level of healing and a complete harvest of self-control in my little girl (and myself!)

*name changed