Tag Archives: foster parent

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

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

Everyday Miracles

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For the next couple of months I’m dog sitting. Not much of a dog person, I don’t

Raine is really excited to help take care of Duke

Raine is really excited to help take care of Duke

mind this one. Four years ago, I watched him perform the impossible right before my eyes.

A 2yr old foster child was with me for 2 weeks while his foster parents were on vacation. He was on an excessive amount of medication for Attention Deficit Disorder – perhaps too much. The child’s eyes were glazed and he was completely lethargic. For two days I tied to connect with him or spark his interest in something. Despite my best efforts he walked around in a fog.

Then Duke arrived. A few minutes after his owner dropped him off, the dog sauntered over to the kitchen table. The little boy was there in a booster seat. His arm hung limply by his side. Duke’s nose nudged the child’s hand. When nothing happened, he kept on gently asking for a response from the boy.

thankfully he doesn't mind doing double duty as a foot rest

thankfully he doesn’t mind doing double duty as a foot rest

Slowly a smile overtook the child’s face. Then – miraculously – his eyes lost the glazed looked. He laughed! And his entire being came to life.

The child remained lively and joyous, as a two year old should be, for the rest of his time with us.

So, when Duke needed somewhere to stay this summer I couldn’t refuse.

There’s No Winner Here

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Friday evening 14yr old Emma* arrived on my doorstep. My friend, her foster mom of 5 1/2 yrs, brought her when things went from bad to worse at their home.

Having fetal alcohol syndrome and some intellectual delays, life is hard for Emma. Often her emotions spin out of control. Bringing her to me is a common occurrence. Usually she calms right down. I keep her overnight and her foster family has time to recover from the upset.

This time that didn’t work. When her foster mom left, Emma kept right on with the outburst she’d begun a few hours ago at home. She stomped the floors and slapped the walls. I tried to settle her in Raine’s room (normally there’s a spare room devoted to Emma, but we also had a visiting 2yr old boy who was occupying that room.) No doubt putting her in another bedroom fueled the fire raging inside of her. But there wasn’t any other choice. I’d already set up a crib for the physically delayed toddler. With Emma carrying on I couldn’t change everything around.

Refusing to go to the room assigned to her, Emma opted to sit in the living room while I put the other kids to bed. It took me a few minutes to realize the silence downstairs meant she was gone. By the time I untangled myself from the three little ones and got out the front door, Emma was no where to be seen.

I called her foster mom, who had a pretty good idea where she’d gone. Piling the very tired children into the car, we headed over to a nearby church. A friend of Emma’s had brought her to the youth group there a few times.

Thankfully there Emma was, outside the church because the doors were locked. She refused to get in the car. I pretended to drive away. Startled, she changed her mind and got in. Her attitude remained. During the drive home she repeatedly swore at me and spewed all kinds of hatred. “Because I don’t want to be at your house!” Emma explained. It’s not like I wanted her there either – at least not in that state.

When I told her not to swear at me. Emma responded, “I will. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” True. There’s nothing I can do. It’s a frustrating sense of powerlessness. This child is not mine. Nothing I say matters to her.

Back at my place, Emma settled herself in the front garden – refusing to come inside. At a loss, I called her foster mom. Normally I’m quite capable of managing Emma or any other child in my care. But this time it was all completely beyond me. Some stern words from her foster mom got Emma inside the house.

Then the real battle began. I put the other children back to bed. Emma stomped her feet in the hallway and punched the wall with a violence that made my pictures shake.

When I was done with the little ones, she got up in my face screaming about how much she hated me. This went on for over an hour. In the midst of it, I did get her into the room she would be using that night. Emma kicked the door so ferociously I was sure she’d put holes in it. But it remained in tack as did the walls she poured her anger out on.

Normally I just walk away, but with this being completely unlike Emma’s normal behaviour at my house, I kept close. Fear for the other kids mounted as she her anger increased. At this point she’d been raging for nearly 5hrs (mostly at her own home), breaking briefly for her walk to the church. It was late. I was worried and tired. I needed the noise and the violence to stop. But it didn’t. Emma kept going strong – coming out of the room and again aggressively confronting me.

My patience wore out. I couldn’t endure being bullied in my own home by a 14yr old. My voice was no longer kind nor were my words. Eventually Emma retreated to the bedroom.

She’s on a fair bit of medication which is supposed to save her from these moments. Perhaps the pills aren’t working, but I still wanted to get her nightly does in. That didn’t happen. Emma was wielding every bit of power she had.

While on the phone with the emergency after hours worker, Emma kicked my door in. I’d gone into my bedroom and locked the door. Her screaming and kicking was making it hard to hear the woman on the phone. Having access to my room, the girl just stood in the hallway shouting and punching the walls.

My door frame is broken. My nerves are shot. And now Emma’s saying that I attacked her which of course I did not.She, however, did slapped me during my initial retreat to my room. This is warranted in Emma’s mind. She’s completely beside herself with rage and panic all rolled into one big, ugly mess.

This is the result of a life in foster care. Arriving at the age of 2, Emma’s moved countless times. My friend is trying to keep going. It’s been 5 1/2 yrs. That’s miraculous for a child with FAS. The long term goal is holding out until Emma turns 18. But things are unraveling quickly. Not long ago, the teen ran away and called the police saying she felt unsafe in her foster home.

She’s safe. It’s those around Emma who aren’t safe. Her accusations could land my friend in jail. At the very least, it may lead to Emma and the two other foster children in the home being removed. The two sisters – 14 & 10yrs – have been with my friend nearly 4yrs and are doing well. The plan is for them to remain until 18. Emma’s antics could put them all in jeopardy.

I’ve told my friend it’s time to let go – especially after this weekend. Emma awoke Saturday with an incredible sense of triumph. She’d gotten away with leaving my house, speaking to me in a deplorable manner, slapping me, breaking my door, and refusing to take her pills. As far as she can see she’s won.

What Emma doesn’t realize is how much she’s loosing. For 5 1/2yrs she’s been part of our family – I’ve been like an aunt to her and her foster mom has been the same to my kids. Emma’s foster family, while not perfect, have cared for her with generosity and grace. They’ve welcomed her back after many such outbursts. But she doesn’t want to be there. Eventually Emma’s behaviour will get the result she’s seeking. She’ll be moved into a group home until she ages out of foster care.

It’s a tragedy. I am heart broken. At the same time, I’m encouraging my friend to make that move. My prayer is for Emma’s complete healing – that the Lord will restore her mind and heal the wounds tormenting her. I know that’s possible. I want that for Emma. How long can we wait for the miracle before we have to make choices based on the reality of here and now? It’s becoming impossible to have Emma around.

*name changed

The Fun of It All

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This weekend my friend’s three foster daughters were with us. Two are 14, one is 10. Overall it was a really great time – perhaps the best we’ve had. There were two minor meltdowns. Raine and one of the 14yr olds were able to pull themselves together after small setbacks.

I didn’t bother questioning if 14yr old Emma* had all her belongings before leaving. That avoided a lengthy battle. Inevitably she always leaves something behind. Last time it was her curling iron. Me pointing out the overlooked items fills her with rage. Though I see it as doing her a favour making sure she has everything, Emma disagrees.

The new plan is to ignore any forgotten items. But that didn’t quite come together. The girls departed without me checking their rooms or the bathroom. Then I discovered Emma had taken my toothbrush and left hers. I text. My friend called and we had a conversation including Emma. The girl pulled a toothbrush out of her bag. With certainty she claimed it as her own. It was orange. Emma’s is green.

“What did you use when you brushed your teeth this morning?” my friend asked.

“The green one,” Emma answered.

“Then why did you bring the orange one home?”

“Because it’s mine.”

Oh the fun of it all – trying to understand her muddled mind.

“I have an extra. I don’t need it back,” I told my friend. “But just thought I’d let you know so she doesn’t use it.”

Thankfully that conversation wasn’t mine to have – why using someone else’s toothbrush is not a good idea. I’ve had my fair share of those types of conversations with Sabrina* (foster child with me for 5yrs) and Megan* (foster child with me for 2yrs). Like Emma, both of them suffer from intellectual limitations. No doubt I will have similar conversations in the future as I prepare to again foster special needs children.

Off the phone I had to laugh. I’ve resolved to start finding the fun in it all. Not at the children’s expense. I expect when she she fully realized the situation, Emma was laughing as well.

*name changed

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