Being a Foster Parent...

It's been a little over a week now since the two little boys came to stay with us and almost a week since their sister came too. Over these past several days a lot of changes have taken place. Changes in the kids, Brett, our home and ME.

The kids have certainly come out of their shells, so there's that. :-D

All three are incredibly smart and it's so rewarding to see how much they've learned and grown in such a short amount of time.

I can't go into much detail on here due to confidentialy restrictions, but I can tell you that everything we learned in our training has been extremely beneficial. There are so many things we take for granted; things that we expect kids of a certain age will know and know how to do, things that we consider basic, but children that have been in "situations"

For right now, I can tell you that we're seeing a lot of personality. A LOT! We have the beautiful, quiet, creative, future engineer who almost always follows directions every time they're given (I have experienced a couple of pre-teen eye-rolls though, I giggle on the inside); the comedian who also happens to be a great helper, extremely inquisitive and completely adorable; and the youngest- another comedian who, if allowed, would eat pizza and chocolate for every meal-- very affectionate, Spongebob-loving wild child.

Speaking of Spongebob-- I had never watched an episode until yesterday. I thought it was a kids show- WRONG! OMG, what an obnoxious little prick! Seriously. New rule in this house- NO SPONGEBOB! I haven't broken it to the kids yet, they'll figure it out eventually.

Rules, ah rules. It's so hard going from zero kids to THREE! You have to be quick on your feet! I have to be three steps ahead of three kids at all times- that makes like, nine steps.

I try to give an explaination for my rules. There have been a couple of times when it was "because I said so", but for the most part I give an explanation. I believe that's the responsibility of the parent. Even as adults we have rules but those rules aren't "because I said so". They are rules that are enforced to procect us. I believe that if a reason for a rule isn't given, the child will never understand the potential consequence and be have the ability to be pro-active in their decision making. Don't get me wrong, I believe in consequences and learning from them. (If you don't want to wear a coat outside, that's fine. When you get cold, you'll realize you need it.) But I'm not going to let a child play with a light socket and figure out that when you get shocked you die. Know what I mean? Additionally, it helps keep me in check. It's too easy for parents to become lazy and say "because I said so" just because they, themselves don't want to put forht any effort. If I don't have a good reason for not doing or allowing something (like I don't want to get off the couch) then that's not a good enough reason- for either of us.

So how is all of this affecting me? Well let me tell you. I couldn't be happier. Seriously. I know I'm honeymooning right now and will eventually need a break, but at this very moment there is no other place I'd rather be. As lame as it sounds, I finally feel complete. I have never felt so confident. All of the years I spent doing theater/films, even with accolades and standing ovations, they pale in comparison to how I feel now.

Not only have I found new confidence, but I'm becoming a better person. Before, my day consisted of rolling out of bed at 8:45, sitting at my computer till 5:30 or 6 with the occasional trip to the bathroom or kitchen. Cooking dinner, leaving the dishes to pile in the sink and plopping down in front of the TV-- on a typical weekday. Now it's non-stop! Remember that whole 9 steps ahead thing? Yeah, that takes A LOT of work! But I LOVE it! It's like a switch turned on inside my brain. My house is more organized than it's ever been. There's still work to be done on my desk and in my bedroom/bathroom, but all of the living spaces are completely functional. Everything has its place and "systems" have been implemented. I'm sure the logical explanation is that I'm being more active and more blood is pumping to my brain, but I prefer to think of it as magic. Whatever it is, it's making me feel like a better person and I like it.

I wish I could document every thought and feeling that I'm experiencing. But the best I can do is blog some highlights and hopefully, HOPEFULLY effectively express the unimaginable ammount of JOY I have.

I have a wonderful husband and three awesome kids.

Oh also, a lot of people have been wondering how long we'll have the kids. We should know within the next week if they're going to be here for a while. We HOPING the answer is yes. Since the ultimate goal is reunification with parents (or at least a family member) they may be going to stay with someone else, but we won't know for at least a few more days. If it's decided that they'll stay with us, they should be with us for a minimum of six months. I told the social worker, "six months, PLEASE give us at least six months, I KNOW we can make a huge difference in just six months". He seemed to think that was likely that they'll be with us for at least six months, but it's ultimately up to the courts since the, technically, the state has custody. So please keep your fingers crossed.

For now, they are OUR kids and will be treated and loved like they are going to be here forever. --More on that later.

Learning little lessons and making progress...

So the last blog I wrote was on Tuesday night. The evening of our first full day with two new boys. It is now Friday morning and we've had three full days of two boys and just added a third child to the mix last night...their sister.

We are officially the proud foster parent to three incredible children.

I really wanted to write a blog Wednesday night because so much happened since I wrote the one the night before- what a difference a day makes. All day I had been making mental notes of all the little things I wanted to remember. But by the time the kids were in bed, and Brett and I had a chance to unwind, I just couldn't find the energy to do it.

I tried again last night, but again, I was too tired. So I'm up early this morning-- I don't want to forget any more details of this amazing experience.

Wednesday morning, I got up early. Took a shower, got dressed and made coffee. (a lesson I learned in a book that I read last year- shower first!) When the boys woke up, they came downstairs all by themselves. I didn't have to go upstairs and give them permission, they knew it was okay to do it themselves. --progress! We had breakfast and then they played.

A couple hours later, while I was cleaning up the kitchen, the little one asked me, "what are you making?" I said, "nothing, I was just cleaning up, why? did you want something?"

Big grin, "mmmhmm"

"What would you like?"

"Peanut butter and jelly."

"Okay, come in here and we'll make it together."

Big grin, "okay"

It was another huge step in the right direction.

***

This whole foster parenting thing is definitely a learning process. I'm finding that I hadn't thought about things like: where are they going to put their dirty clothes? Hell, where are they going to put their clean clothes?! (mental note, we need to buy hangers and a dresser) What are our rules about where grape juice is consumed? Where do we now put three extra pairs of shoes- the living the room? Family room? Should I get a shoe cubby? Again, WHERE do we put the shoes? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

There are also other things I hadn't thought about. Like the first time we went somewhere in the car...

On Wednesday, I took the boys to Monkey Joe's. I told them about it in the morning. They didn't know what it was, so I tried to explain, "it's a big huge indoor playground where you can run and play and climb and slide! It's going to be so much fun!" They looked at me like I was crazy- I kind of took for granted that they knew what a playground was, but I'm not sure that actually do (did).

Okay, so- I told them about it all morning. And when it was time to actually go, I said, "put your shoes and socks on it's time to go!" in a very excited voice. They put their shoes and socks on, I gathered my things and we went to the garage. This was the first time we'd left the house since they had come to stay with us.

Not thinking twice, Brett and I buckled them in, I said to goodbye to Brett, got in the car and began to drive away. Instantly the mood changed. The boys had gone from rambunctious to somber. I asked them if they were excited to go to Monkey Joe's and they softly said, "yeah" with zero excitement. It was more like they were just saying it because they "had" to, in order to be agreeable.

I tried to lighten the mood a little bit with chit chat, when it dawned on me. They last TWO times they were in a car they were being taken away from the home where they were staying. My heart sunk. I tried to explain to them that we were just going to play and when we were done we'd be going straight back home. I tried to convince them that everything was going to be okay, but I quickly realized, their trust was something I was going to have to earn.

When we walked in to Monkey Joe's the boys were a little overwhelmed. They have been homeschooled all their lives and from what I know, they have never socialized with other children. So this was probably terrifying. I reminded myself that I had to be confident and assertive so that they will feel safe and secure. (I think I pulled it off well)

I paid for the admission, we got our wrist bands and we entered the chaos. When the boys feel uncomfortable, they cover their heads with their shirts- the little one will actually close his eyes. They did this when they first got to our house and have done it a few times since. I guided them through the (much larger than I realized) warehouse full of bouncy structures and told them that they could go play! "Go! Go! You'll have fun!" There were kids everywhere!

When we got to the big slide they expressed some interest. I pointed to the other kids who were climbing the rope ladder to the top and told them to give it a try. They hesitantly took on the challenge, looking over their should to be sure I was still there the whole way up. After they got to the top and then back down, via the slid, they were sold. They did it again, and again. After the third time I pointed to the other things they could play on and encouraged them to GO, PLAY. I went and sat at the table where I told them I'd be and they were off. I was a proud mama.

***

Before we left that day, I had put chicken and rice in the crock-pot so dinner would be done when we got home. I had never put rice in the crock-pot before, but I thought, surely, it would by just fine. WRONG! When I scooped it out of the pot and onto the plate I started laughing. It was a MESS! A disgusting, gluey mess! GROSS!

We all took a bite, Brett said it didn't taste like anything, and it really didn't, even though I had seasoned it with SnP, poultry seasoning, garlic and onion powder...The boys started eating it. I asked them if they liked it, they didn't say much. The decision was quickly made to go to McDonald's. The boys were VERY excited about their chicken nuggets and the toy in their happy meal.

After we got home and ate dinner the boys took their baths and put on their jammies. Then we hunkered down on the couch with pillows and blankets (much like we had tried the night before with Shrek II) and Brett read the first chapter of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. The little one fell asleep on my lap (BEST FEELING IN THE WORLD) and the older one asked questions about the story. We were happy, happy parents.

First night as Foster Parents

We finished our paperwork with our foster care agency around the first of December, knowing that the state would have 50 days to return our license. Since we were out of town for the holidays, we assumed other people would be too. This led us to believe that we could expect our license around the end of January.

We returned home on Saturday, Jan 8th. Exhausted from the previous three and a half weeks we dumped all of our luggage in the living room and flung ourselves on the couches in the family room. Over the next 36 hours, we slept through about 25. With the impending snow, I decided 10pm on Sunday night was a good time to make a trip to the grocery store for some cheap "food" to get us through the next days- as we would most likely be snowed in. (even though it was only supposed to be a few inches- everything shuts down in this town when it snows)

So I went to the store and bought ramen, ice cream, cereal, milk, bread and tuna. See, "food". Remember we'd been gone for 3+ weeks, so there was NO food in the house.

Anyway, at about noon today I emailed our social worker to see if they'd heard anything back from the state yet. The reply was something along the lines of, "I haven't received it yet, but call me when you, I have two boys that need emergency placement."

I showed the email to Brett and we just sort of looked at each other like, "uhhhh". Mostly we were thinking, "crap, our house is a huge mess, we have no food in our cupboards, the second bed isn't even put together yet!" -- let's call and get the details.

We call, phone's on speaker. The social worker gives us the information she has, which isn't much. I looked at Brett and whispered, "what do you think? Do you want to talk about it and call her back?" He said, "I don't know what there is to talk about". Less than two hours later they were here. Two boys, ages 7 and 9.

Due to confidentiality agreements we can't share details, but I can tell you that they are two good lookin' kids. The first half hour was rough. They both just kind of curled up in a ball on the couch in the front room. We gave them a while to just "be"- sad, angry, confused...all of the above and more.

After a little while I went in and asked if they wanted to play Wii. They lifted their heads and both said yes. So Brett got the Wii going, helped set up Miis and got them playing together. He and I just sat, quietly...in the same room. I gradually began cheering for them when they had a good swing on the golf course. They seemed to loosen up fairly quickly.

Because they didn't come with anything except pillows and blankets and the clothes on their backs, I emailed two friends from down the street who have boys the same age. Fortunately they were both eager to help and one had a backpack full of stuff within 30 minutes. Thank you Angie!

I told the boys that I was going to make dinner and gave them the choice between pb&j or grilled cheese to go with their Top Ramen. (not the meal I ever envisioned for a first night with kids) One chose the pb&j and the other chose grilled cheese.

I tried to be pro-active. Telling them the plan. Eat, shower/bathe, jammies, Wii. They listened, understood and agreed to the plan. All went well.

At 7:30, I told them 30 more minutes of Wii, then quiet time. I didn't really have a plan for quiet time but I knew that they had a really long day and figured they were probably exhausted. I thought maybe they'd like to read some books or something.

We went up stairs, with books, and they immediately crawled into bed. It was the worst part of the whole day. I didn't know what to do. How could I make sleeping in some strange people's house any easier? We'd role played this in class, but the role play included the "child" not wanting to go to bed. These little guys just laid down, quietly. I wanted to hug them but I didn't know what to do. All I could think about was how I couldn't imagine what they were thinking, what they were going through. I just told them, "it's okay to be scared and sad. it's okay to cry. but if there is anything we can do to help them, please tell us." They both said okay and then curled up in little balls with the covers over their heads in their beds.

Walking out of that room was so hard. I didn't want to leave them, but I know there's nothing I can do to make it better--right now. Even though I WANT to smother them with love, it's not time yet, hopefully soon. I just stood at the bottom of the stairs for a few minutes and listened. I could hear their voices but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I also heard some sobs and lots of sniffles. After about 15 minutes, I couldn't stand it any more. I went up there to make sure they were alright. They both said they were okay.

45 minutes later I went back up. The older boy was asleep but the younger one was still awake. I asked him if he wanted to come downstairs, he said no. I'm hoping he's fallen asleep by now.

One day down.

False Positive

On Tuesday, December 14th, my family welcomed a new addition to the family. The cutest, sweetest baby boy- Rocco James Vickers. I was lucky enough to be there for the entire process. From induction, to the C-section decision, waiting for the surgery to be over and then FINALLY meeting him for the first time. It was the closest I've ever been to a live birth. It was truly a magical experience.

The first time I held him I just sobbed. I was overcome with emotion. He was so beautiful, so perfect. I loved him instantly. I had heard that when a mother meets her baby for the first time there is an instant connection, I never knew it was the same for an Auntie. Love at first sight does exist.

As all of my emotions poured out over this little newborn baby, my mom and sister said things to me like, "why are you crying so much? maybe you're pregnant". I guess it seemed a logical explanation for why I was being so "emotional". I just laughed it off, knowing good and well that it wasn't even a remote possibility. After my they continued to make additional comments over the following two days, I finally explained to them that it was impossible. "I just finished my period five days ago!"

But their words stuck with me.

On Thursday, December 16th, Brett and I arrived in Phoenix. We were exhausted from spending the previous days at the hospital and only became more exhausted as the week(s) went on. Between the holidays, sleeping on air mattresses, dealing with the stress being produced by our stay with his family and the time change, we (I) was a mess.

All of these factors manifested themselves into what felt like an emotional roller-coaster with the addition of constipation which in turn became bloating and nausea. This on top of those lingering words from my mom and sister...

On the 30th, I got a call from one of my good friends. She had just tested positive. I was so happy for her (I still am. I'm NEVER resentful of ANYONE who gets pregnant- I know how happy it would make me and I want that same happiness for everyone, especially the people I love). But I couldn't help it, I hung up the phone and the tears came pouring out. It was a full-on melt down. Big heavy sobs.

My sweet husband, just rubbed my back, knowing there was nothing he could do to make it better. But this melt-down was intense. I couldn't stop. I just cried and cried..."why am I crying so much?" The words of my mom and sister, haunting me...the weeks of constipation, bloating and nausea floating around in my mind.

I thought I was going to start my period that Wednesday, it was Thursday. I was one day late. Maybe it was an immaculate conception. Did I mention that we hadn't even slept in the same bed since December 11th?

The next day was New Years. I knew I wanted to drink that night so Brett and I went to Walgreens Thursday night and bought a two pack of tests, just to be sure. I peed on the stick that morning and it was negative. Just like all the other dozens, if not hundreds of tests I had taken in the past. I wasn't surprised. Not to sound like a martyr, but I'm used to it AND you have to have sex to make a baby, so, you know, there's that.

Fast forward to Monday, still no period. I was now five days late. I called my doctor and asked if I should up my progesterone dosage and he said yes but I thought I'd test, just in case, before increasing to two capsules per day. Besides, I still had the second one left from the pack of two, might as well use it.

It was Monday afternoon, about 3pm. I knew it wasn't my "first urine" but whatever, I was bored...or something. I had just taken a nap (remember that whole tired thing?) and I figured, "why not?" So I went to the bathroom, peed on the stick, set it down, went about my business, glancing down every couple of seconds. After about 15 seconds I saw what appeared to be a VERY faint line. I'm not going to lie... I whispered loudly, "holy fuck!" Never had I ever seen anything other than NOTHING.

I took it to Brett and I said, "don't get excited, but I think I see a line". I knew it was faint. I knew he would have a hard time seeing it, hell I could BARELY see it. I mean BARELY. When he didn't see it, I decided I was probably imagining things. But I KNEW I had NEVER seen what I saw.

We just kind of laughed about it. I put it back in the wrapper, placed it in the trash and forgot about it...for a couple of hours anyway. But I couldn't stand it. I just had to look one more time, in different light, like maybe outside.

I reached into the trash, pulled the stick out of the wrapper and there it was, a pretty defined, yet light blue plus sign. I showed it to Brett, he said, "yep, I see it". We decided not to get excited. Even though I have told friends who have questioned their positive results, "there are not false positives", I still couldn't feel confident that is was happening to me. I knew the math, I was pretty sure I hadn't ovulated and I certainly knew that there hadn't been any baby dancing going on. The two major requirements for pregnancy.

BUT, there was a plus sign. There are no false positives...right?

Fortunately I didn't allow myself to get excited. Well, not too excited. After all I wasn't completely convinced. But of course my mind did wander a bit. I thought about how we were going to tell people-- this is something I've fantasized about for as long as I can remember. I wondered what we'd do about fostering. I let myself feel like maybe just maybe it WAS happening to me. And it felt good.

However, it's now Wednesday, two days later-- still no period, but TWO new negative tests.

I hate to sound like I'm throwing myself a pity party, but it DID feel good, even if only for a very short while. I hope I get to see a REAL plus sign some time soon, but until then I will remember those 12 hours when I thought, maybe, just maybe it was happening to me, too.