Tag Archives: parenting

Staying Put for the Time Being

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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

The End

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7wks after arriving, it was time for the boys to go. Their maternal grandmother came forward to claim them. Normally when a family member is able to take foster children the process is quick – much faster than seven weeks. For whatever reason, there was a delay in this situation.

The fear of heartbreak when children leave is something that keeps many people from fostering. At first I was like that. And there were some heartbreaks along the way. This time it wasn’t too bad. In their short time with me, Deshawn* and Tyson* made great strides. I did what I could in the time that I had. Sloane* fully committed herself to their spiritual education. At home with only Tyson on week days she made up songs for him about the imminent return of Christ. Despite her constant fighting with Deshawn she burst into tears when they drove away. Elise*, who got along wonderfully with both boys, didn’t seem to care much. Being the more sensitive of the two, I expected her to shed some tears.

Foster care really is a terrible place for children. Even the most loving situation is unnatural and confusing for kids. The driver who transported the boys weekly to their visits was crushed when I told her they would likely be leaving. “But they’re so loved here with you,” she exclaimed. I pray that’s the impression they take with them.

Just before the move, the boys’ grandmother wrote me a heartfelt note. “We are truly grateful to have such a thoughtful, attentive care giver to watch the kids. Sometimes foster care isn’t the best situation but we couldn’t have asked for a better family in the situation present.” I know not all birth families will be able to respond likewise. Foster care is wildly challenging for everyone involved – birth families, kids, foster families, social workers, judges, etc.

When the boys came, I knew they were expected to go to grandma’s. Maybe that’s why the departure didn’t devastate me. Maybe there’s an extra grace on me for this season.

In the time since they’ve left (this blog was delayed due to a broken computer), I’ve painted and rearranged my entry way. I went on a crazy spree and completed all my Christmas shopping (minus any new foster children, though I do have a variety of extra gifts for boys/girls of any age should kids arrive at the last minute).

The time with Deshawn & Tyson was hectic. My body is thankful for the end of that chapter. (Tyson, a typical baby, wanted to be carried most of the time. However his weight and size in no way mirrored a typical 16mth old. Not able to refuse him, my arms grew weary to a degree I never imagined possible.) It was a good chapter in my life as a foster mom, but I’m ok with the ending. And, having caught my breath, I’m ready for the next adventure.

*names changed

 

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

One Week

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In order to foster with the local Children’s Aid I needed a landline. The idea is so archaic, I decided to kick it completely old school – a corded phone and answering machine. Thursday, August 15 my handy pad of phonepaper was finally filled with details of a child. At first she was 11 – then suddenly almost 14 (the social worker’s math is clearly as bad as mine since she was determining age based on year of birth). A one week respite placement. The child came into care a week ago. Her foster parents had already booked this week off. Nearly 14 with some history of drug use and a tendency to sneak out. Maybe not a problem at my house since she’d be far from friends. It was my first call. I took the risk.

Carlin* arrived Sunday afternoon. Her foster mom was guardedly positive when we spoke on the phone the day before. “I have two 16yr old foster girls and they love her – want her to stay.” The other girls were off to camp. Carlin ended up with me because it was too late to register her for camp.

Sloane* and Elise* welcomed her with exuberance. After lunch we made play dough. Carlin was quietly helpful. Copying my actions, she kneaded the dough. For a while she played – cutting out pink hearts. She remained eerily quiet. This, no doubt, was exaggerated by the fact that I’m unaccustomed to quiet people. Her foster mom said she was quiet and just wanted to text all the time. That evening I left Carlin on her own.

The next day, with Sloane & Elise at daycare, we went to Starbucks. Somehow this always ends up being the first place I take kids. I didn’t get any pictures of Carlin, but do have one of Sloane. I bought Carlin a Caramel Macchiato. She’d never been to Starbucks and was overwhelmed by the adjoining Chapters. “There’s so much stuff,” she whispered.

1st outing with Sloane

1st outing with Sloane

Later that evening, with the little ones in bed, I suggested we watch a movie together. Carlin agreed, informing me “I don’t really watch movies.” I wanted to make an effort. It’s not like we could sit around talking. Conversation didn’t go anywhere. She was quiet and guarded. I’m no good at small talk. My questioning pulled out a disjointed family history. Carlin’s mom had only been 14yrs old when she had her. Later she married, someone other than Carlin’s father, and had the two little ones. Their paternal grandparents rescued them from foster care that day. But no one came forward for Carlin. She had to be sad. Normally people share with me quite freely. “I’ve never told this to anyone” is a phrase I commonly hear followed by a number of revelations from childhood abuse to secret dreams and desires. I was getting nothing from Carlin. She answered my questions with facts, no feelings.

It was a week of first for Carlin. After her mom didn’t show up for a visit we went to Fabricland (memories of my sister demanding candy for accompanying me fabric shopping flooded my mind). Then we went out for Vietnamese. “Thank you,” Carlin said as we left the restaurant. “That was really good.” Her manners were impeccable. She seemed sincerely grateful for my meager offerings.

Later in the week, it was Ikea. “It’s big,” was all she had to say at the end of it. The silence is something I never got used to.

On our final evening, I introduced her to Wes Anderson – whom I love. We watched Moonrise Kingdom. “It’s weird. But I like it,” she said. “When you’re older, you must watch the other films,” I implored.

By the end of the week she was humming along to Jon Thurlow as we drove around.  IHOP Kansas City was playing continually in the background at home. I resisted the urge to launch into prayer counselling. But I did bless her spirit using Arthur Burk’s book at night while she slept.(If you’d like a copy, let me know. I just got a shipment in.) Sloane tried to convince Carlin to stay with us. Even when her foster mom came to get her, Sloane pleaded her case.

Shortly after she left, Carlin text me. “Thank u for having me!!!”

“It was my pleasure. Feel free to stay in touch if you want. Praying all goes well for you!” was my response.

“okay I will and thanks 😀  u cook really good food too I never ate like that before”

I can’t recall most of what I made – teriyaki chicken with rice, apple cinnamon bread for breakfast one day, peach pie that turned out below par.

“I’m sure she means it,” a fellow foster parent assured me. “She didn’t have to text you. She’d already said goodbye.”

Goodbye –that’s the hard part. Some kids you’re happy to see go. Others burrow deep into your heart. I doubt Carlin will ever return to my home. But, for now, she remains on my heart. I’m still praying for God to break in on her situation. I’m blessing her, via Arthur Burk’s exceptional prayers, to move past the pain and into the Father’s love. But, sadly, this is where the story ends.

*name changed

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