Tag Archives: foster child

Wonderfully Unusual

Posted on by

4

Flora*, my 9yr old foster child, has a hard time telling the truth. Having met her mom last week, I understand why. Often the truth isn’t all that pretty. So why not dress it up? Why not?

It was a simple fact that only Elise* brought her bowl down from snack on Saturday. I was busy creating a website for my lasted endeavor (stay tuned for a big announcement). The kids got to eat popcorn while watching a movie in Flora’s room. Sunday I wanted to send them up there again but didn’t have enough bowls for snack.

Flora offered a detailed account of how she brought down her and her brother’s bowl. “Only Elise didn’t,” she concluded.

Prior to that my spiel began with pointing out only Elise had returned her bowl. Sometimes I’m forgetful, but this I knew for sure: I was short three bowls. Flora didn’t bring two down.

There are things I’ve let go. Flora insists that her mother once owned a bakery. Seems unlikely. In another conversation Flora began by saying her mother was born in Canada and ended insisting she was American, from the exact spot my daughter, Sloane*, was born. Pointing out the transition got me nowhere. Flora denied saying her mom was Canadian (which she in in case you’re wondering).

It’s hard to bring correction. Children who come into foster care usually have a well-established pattern of lying. It’s a survival tool. Since Flora and Marcus* are expected to return to their mother, I’m not winning them over to my way of thinking.

Their mother paints a beautiful picture of their life together. Maybe it’s true. I doubt it. But maybe.

Monday there was a good chance the judge would rule in mom’s favour. He didn’t. Another court date is set in 3 weeks. Flora and Marcus were picked up from school to attend their weekly visit. They were hoping to be taken home instead of to the office of Children’s Aid. I don’t know what was said to explain the situation.

A lady from church asked me to dog sit. The children came back to a tiny white dog who was very excited to see them. For the moment their disappointment is kept at bay. Once again the Lord has shown up in a wonderfully, unusual manner. A dog at just the right moment.

WP_001052

*name changed

Staying Put for the Time Being

Posted on by

0

Fostering with the local Children’s Aid Society hasn’t been all that advantageous. Since beginning in July I’ve had two placements, each lasting 6 weeks. This means I’ve been empty for 11 weeks. That’s a long time. I thought my age range, 0-8yrs, and being able to take up to three children would keep me busy. It’s not.

All this “vacation time” (since fostering is my only official job at the moment), has revealed something to me. I love parenting. As challenging as it is, I love the long haul. The triage of kids coming for 6 weeks isn’t where I do my best work. When they leave I feel like we’ve both wasted a lot of time. I try to impart to them, but with visits – sometimes three a week – with birth family it’s hard to connect. Of course I understand the importance of birth family involvement and all of that. Please don’t misunderstand me. It’s just, these short stints feel more like childcare than parenting. At this point, I’m not much of a childcare provider (I don’t even volunteer for kids’ church anymore). But I’m a really good parent.

Lamenting to a friend and fellow foster parent with the same Children’s Aid, I couldn’t really remember why I made the switch. The private agency I fostered for had some significant structural flaws. I was no longer proud to be a part of the organization. But all this time without foster children has me glamorizing for the good old days when I was a treatment foster parent. Most of those kids stayed as long as you wanted them to, which wasn’t always advantageous.

I know the Lord wanted me to switch. But I don’t know why or for how long. There have been times I’ve done exactly as He says without apparent success. This past week, I was ready to admit defeat. I want to foster. With the local Children’s Aid, that’s not something I’m able to do on a regular basis. So I gave the Lord one week. “If I don’t get a call by 5pm on Friday, February 7 I’m contacting my previous agency and begging to return.” It went without saying that call needed to be about an appropriate placement.

Thursday, February 6 I got a call from a social worker I’ve gotten to know (she did the training when I was applying to adopt a few years ago). “I don’t know if you’d be interested in this,” she began very tentatively. She’s the one who called me about Joseph* (see Love is Important). I couldn’t imagine anything more challenging. “We need a home for a girl, about to be 9, and a 7 year old boy.” A few more particulars were shared before she asked, “Should I go on or is it already a no?”

The siblings had been at another foster home for a week already. The issues – lying, possible intellectual delay, and incontinence – were more than the foster parents could manage. It’s not what I wanted. I was still hoping for a baby. But I said yes.

They arrived Friday. Thus far it’s been blissful. The little girl has been taking care of her brother for a long time. It’s hard for her to let me be in charge – even of my own kids. That’s been our biggest challenge. They’re sweet children, teachable and eager to please. They’re getting along well with Sloane* and Elise*.

So here we are. Once again four children are sleeping peacefully under my roof. Seems I’m staying put for the time being.

*name changed

24 hours

Posted on by

0

I have a big mouth – in that, I bite off more than most people can chew. That’s why I ended up with two babies overnight. First I was asked to take a 1mth old. Of course I said yes. The next day I was asked to take the 8mth old at the same home. The foster parents were going away overnight.

“You have two cribs, right?” the social worker asked.

Technically, I have three. My social worker dislikes two (for some reason she’s not a fan of Ikea). But I know they meet all the necessary requirements. So I said, “Yes, I can take both babies.”

Saturday at 1pm until Sunday at 1pm is when I had them. It may have been the longest 24hrs of my life. The foster mom hasn’t yet found a formula that agrees with the little one. She send along something new that had him fussing all night. In between night feedings, I tried to put him down. But that resulted in loud wails that woke his 8mth old roommate.

At 4am I was juggling feeding two babies. The older one really wasn’t due for a bottle. But it was 4am. After a 20min nap at 7pm, he’d been up until nearly 10pm. I was not ready start the day. I fed him a bottle and put him to bed. Thankfully, he fell back asleep and didn’t wake again until 7:30am. That’s a much better hour for me.

However, the littlest one didn’t get much rest that night. Nor did I. My inherent mother’s guilt was in full force on Sunday. The 8mth old was fussy. The 1mth old was fussy. Who do I pick up? Have I been favouring the younger over the older? Is this going to scar them for life? Am I planting seeds of rejection? The 8mth old looks at me longingly from his play mat on the floor but I decided to feed the 1mth old instead because he’s spit up his last two bottles.

Then there’s my own girls clamoring for attention. I’m counting the hours until bed. Sure, if this were daily life I’d adjust. I might even have fun. But instead it was 24hrs I muddled through. And after it all, I still wouldn’t mind a baby or two of my own. By that I mean foster babies somewhat permanently in my home.

But no calls yet.

my 4yr old hanging out in one of the baby chairs

my 4yr old hanging out in one of the baby chairs

A Fresh Start

Posted on by

1

Seems ages since I’ve posted anything. Recently every waking moment I’ve been putting my house in order. Not to sell, but to better meet our needs.sewing machine My room is reorganized with a sewing nook. In my younger years I used to be quite proficient. Despite filling the basement with fabric, I’ve not sewn in ages. That’s something I’d like to change.

The living room has been converted to a school room. In the distant past, I required expansive seating areas. There was a time when I hosted hoards of people. With those days behind me I’ve created an intimate seating nook with two loveseats. When the occasional friend comes by we can visit while the children occupy themselves.

living room before & after

living room before & after (The empty corner in the before once housed the Christmas tree.)

seating area

seating area

Lastly I’m tackling the basement. With that completed, hopefully in the next couple of days, I’m going to dive into a few projects. One being the furtherance of my on-line coffee & tea business (www.believebistro.com).

All of this has been possible because of Joseph’s*sudden move. A week ago, the social worker called to say she was on her way to get him. In court Joseph’s father was awarded custody. That was not a surprise. The timing, however, was. I had been told court was later in the week. Quickly I scrambled to get his things together. I was mortified to send a box of dirty clothes. And even more distraught when I realized, the next day, all the toys I’d forgotten to send – some from his mom and others I’d given him for Christmas.

So ends my second fostering adventure with the local Children’s Aid. It’s been a week since Joseph’s departure. My phone hasn’t rung yet with another placement opportunity. I’ve made the most of my “time off”.

*name changed

Love is Important

Posted on by

2

One of the reasons I left the private agency I was fostering for was the hope of easier children. Some days Sloane* is fun enough for this single mom. It was nearly three weeks before I got a call after the boys left (see From 2 to 4 and The End). A message was left while I picked Elise* up from school. By the time I called back the 3yr old boy had been placed elsewhere. “Just as well,” I thought, still hoping for a tiny baby before Christmas.

The next day the same worker called to say, “It’s not going to work where we put him. Would you still be interested?” The initial report was: his speech is delayed and he’s not toilet trained. The current foster mom complained he hadn’t slept that first night, refused to talk though is able to, and won’t keep his clothes on. It was his first night in a strange home, so I wasn’t too put off. I said yes. Later another call came to say he may be mildly autistic. Still I said yes.

Joseph* arrived Friday afternoon. If it’s autism he has, it’s certainly not mild. He’s happy, engaging, and affectionate. But seems to be in disconnected from the world. Communication is limited to single words repeated, sometimes connected to what’s going on or in his hand.

Sloane, who doesn’t get along with anyone, instantly fell for him. At dinner the first night, she said, “Love is important. And I love Joseph.” Three days in, her love continues to expand. She speaks kindly and quietly to him (a miracle in and of itself) and is consistently eager to help him. Elise isn’t feeling quite as warmly towards our new arrival. Mostly she stares asking, “What are you doing?” His actions confound her because they lack any logical sequence or explanation. Joseph responds to her with a smile.

410

fast asleep with a teddy bear – one of my greatest triumphs thus far

The first night bedtime was a struggle. He cried and quickly jumped out of bed when I put him in. While bathing the girls I let him play in his room with the door closed. Tonight when I told him to go upstairs after dinner, he happily hurried into his bed. Pretending to be asleep I hated to explain it was bath time not bed yet. I still have to stay in his room, encouraging him to remain in bed for him to fall asleep. Thus far it’s been about 20mins, which gives me time to check emails and write this blog. Asleep by 8pm and awake by 6:30am has been the pattern. Once asleep, he sleeps right through the night. This morning he even remained in his room until I came to get him after my shower (the rule for everyone in my household). I’m incredibly happy with the sleep component.

During the day he amuses himself, playing and climbing onto to my lap. A trip to Superstore (since he came with nothing) was challenging. I put him in the cart, but he recognized a multitude of yummy treats. Joseph screamed and grabbed for cookies and sugary snacks as I whizzed past them. Again I have an oversized child. The size 4 plaid shirt I bought him for church couldn’t be buttoned this morning.

Church, like the shirt, wasn’t a good fit. Everything went well until a teachers arrived with a muffin in a McDonald’s bag. Joseph really wanted the bag and whatever was in it. Concerned about allergies, the teacher didn’t give it to him. He became increasingly inconsolable. I was called to help. The problem is I have no idea what to do. He hardly knows me. Even a piece of the desired muffin didn’t pull him out of the state he was in. When I tried to pick him up things got worse. Finally I calmed him enough to leave. The teachers were very gracious, encouraging me to have him stay when settled. I worried about another melt down later  and didn’t want to be stuck trying to get him through a crowed foyer. If at all possible, I avoid causing a scene. I gathered Sloane and Elise from their class. Joseph wept when I suggested he put his coat on. He continued in the parking lot and the car. Five minutes out of the parking lot, he was ok. Back home he was great the rest of the day. Hopefully with time (and if there are no McDonald’s bags) Joseph will settle into the routine of church.

Inside I keep screaming, “I think I have an autistic child!” This is not the easy I was looking for. Sloane getting along with Joseph eases the strain. He’s really happy at home.  The fact is, he needs to live somewhere right now. Why not here?

*name changed