The Rest of the Story

So, most of you know that the kids went back to live with their mom more than a month ago. But what I haven’t shared yet, at least publically (er...semi-publically… okay, to those very few of you who read my blog) what really happened.
I have hemmed and hawed over writing this blog for several weeks now but I have to get it out. I want to be able to fall asleep at a decent hour tonight, without the perpetuating blog-monologue running through my brain.

Throughout the five months that the kids were with us I shared-- a lot. I shared lots of good stuff and some not so good stuff but I kept a lot of to myself. Not knowing how long the kids were going to be with us and knowing that some of their classmate’s parents are friends of mine, I felt like it wasn’t fair to share some of the real stuff we were dealing with. It was very important to me that no one passed judgment on them, that no one had any preconceived notions or anticipated any potential issues that would most likely never affect them directly. I wanted the kids to be accepted and given a fair chance; they deserved that. There were already many other preconceptions about them that people naturally assumed, they certainly didn’t need any more.

But as the foster-mom, I need to expel the stress and anxiety that I have experienced over these last several months. This is not me crying for attention or begging for praise, this is just my story. The story of what really happened…The rest of the story.

***

Just after my last blog, the one where I talked about the little one being removed for the night, things got remarkably better. Visits with the Grandparents were ceased and life was a lot easier. We had about three weeks of “great”! but at about the fourth week, things started to spiral out of control. The kids went a couple of weeks without seeing their mom due to communication problems and the little one being the most sensitive just kind of lost it. We had several days in a row that were difficult but not impossible-- there was definitely a shift in the little one’s behavior. We’d seen this shift before, but were able to manage our way through it, even though each new cycle was significantly more difficult than the last.

We should have known that this next one was going to be even worse, but it didn’t occur to me until it actually was.

It started with the cussing…AGAIN which led to time outs, which led to tantrums, which led to physical altercations which led to longer time outs and more hitting and door slamming and wall kicking and whatever-he-could-get-his-hands-on breaking, and spitting in my face and calling me names. The tantrums would eventually stop but as soon as he was done he’d immediately start looking for something to do to get in trouble. It was almost scary, the look in his eye as he walked around the house looking for something, anything to touch that he wasn’t supposed to- another child’s toy, our cell phones, fragile items, computers, ANYTHING, just to be told, “No!”.
We were careful about picking our battles, tried VERY HARD to use positive reinforcement as well as other tactics. We made excuses; taking into consideration everything that he had been dealt up to this point but there was only so much that we could do.

The beginning of the end happened on Saturday, April 30th. We had gone to the pool with some friends and the little one was benched for peeing on the floor (on purpose) at a public restroom earlier that day. I had made a deal with him, I told him that he could not swim that day as a consequence for his actions, but if he sat on the bench and made good choices, he could play angry birds on my phone while we swam. He agreed to those terms and when we got to the pool he sat down and followed directions- I gave him my phone and got in the pool with the other kids. I will never know if that was the right decision- I felt justified at the time and I have no regrets.

He was fine for about 20 minutes. He’d look up from the phone every once-in-a-while to see what we were doing and of course I glanced over at him twice as often. But then, as I was standing at the wall of the pool, holding onto the edge talking to someone else who was standing to my right, he walked over and stomped down on my chest as hard as he could. I heard the thump before I felt the pain and when I looked up he was running back to the bench. There were about 15 people sitting in the hot tub nearby and in unison everyone gasped. It was shocking to say the least. Brett and I immediately got out of the pool, dried off and gathered our belongings. Our friends who were with us (as part of this preplanned family outing) offered to stay with the other two while we took the little one back to the house and got him situated.

When we got to the house, he immediately ran from us, began throwing things, trying to break whatever he could. Brett finally got him in his room and tried to calm him down but he was unrelenting for almost 45 minutes. The pool was about to close and one of us had to go get the other two, so I left and Brett stayed home. He called our agency and told them what was going on. He asked that someone come to the house to help us as the child needed to be restrained but we were not licensed to do so. (I know the word restrain sounds harsh, but that’s what it’s called and it’s used to get a child who is completely out of control to calm down- it’s not like a straight jacket, just a bear hug to keep the child and others around safe) But apparently our agency didn’t feel that we needed them so they just told Brett not to be alone with him and “don’t agitate him”.

WHAT?!?! For real?!?! They are supposed to be there to SUPPORT us! To SUPPORT the children! The children are technically THEIR responsibility. I have no doubt that if the same call was made during normal business hours that someone would have been there immediately. But I’m guessing that since this was a Saturday evening, on a holiday weekend, it wasn’t the most convenient time.

(Needless to say, we will not be working with that agency EVER again.)
As the week progressed the behaviors escalated. Both Brett and I were being physically assaulted at least twice a day. By Wednesday I had bruises on my arms, scratch marks on my wrists, I’d had several things thrown at (and hit) my face, my hair pulled, I’d been spat on and called a bitch. Our house had turned into a crisis zone. And even though I held him when he was calm and praised him when he was good, it got to the point where it was dangerous; dangerous for us and him. All we could do was defend ourselves and I was so worried that I would hurt him in the process.

Our plan was to start therapeutic training the following week so that if he had been “leveled up”, to a therapeutic home, he could stay with us. But next week seemed so far away, it would be six weeks after that before we’d be finished with the training-- It became too much. Between not feeling safe in our house and the lack of support from our agency as well as the mental, physical and emotional exhaustion, I just couldn’t do it anymore. So I made the call, well actually it was an email, but I did it- I asked that he be exited from our home.

Even now, sitting here, writing this blog, two months after it went down, I’m still moved to tears. No matter how hard it was, not matter how bad he hurt me or what he broke or how difficult he was, I still loved him and the thought of him leaving was heartbreaking. How were we going to tell him? Who was he going to stay with? This is what people talk about when it comes to foster kids- kids bouncing from foster home to foster home. I was now part of the problem and no longer the solution. I was letting him down. I was sad; very, very sad. I still am.

It was Thursday evening, the night before Brett and I were to leave for the beach- our much needed respite weekend, and I wrote to the social worker:

“Please accept this email as our request for long-term removal of TG from our home. We have been physically assaulted multiple times each day, every day since Saturday April 30th. He has become a danger to us and we feel we are at risk of becoming a danger to him as we do not know how to handle his behavior except to defend ourselves. We have not and would not physically discipline him, however we fear that since we do not have proper training, we may inadvertently hurt him trying to defend ourselves.

TG is going to respite care this weekend and will most likely be okay in that home for a few days, however, it is my opinion that he needs to be in a therapeutic home or a home where he is the only child for now. We may reconsider taking him back into our home if/when we feel prepared to do so after completing therapeutic training and once he is being treated for and/or in better control of the issues he is facing.

This situation is very upsetting and disappointing. I can't help but feel that perhaps this could have been avoided had there been a more efficient response from DSS and NCH with regards to effective therapy, quicker assessments and more support.

We expect him to be removed no later than Friday, May 20th.

Thank you,

Brett and Andrea”

***

This was Thursday, May 12th at 5:30pm. It was after-hours, I knew it would be the next day before I got a response, all I could do was wait.

The rest of the evening we pretended like everything was okay. In fact, we pretended like everything was okay for the next SEVEN days! It felt like and eternity and yet, I didn’t want that day to come.

It wasn’t until the 11th hour, almost literally, before we finally got word on where he was going. The plan all along, ever since they came to stay with us was for them to eventually live with their mom. We didn’t know how long that would be, but she had been working hard to get things ready for them. Since the kids weren’t taken from her, since none of the charges were against her, there was really no reason to keep them from her except that the social worker wanted her to prove that she really wanted them which she did-- she got a house and a car and met all of her other requirements, she was the best candidate for placement.

When this decision was made, I felt relieved. I could handle telling them that ALL THREE of them were going to live with their mom, even if the little one was going first. (To give us the break and warm her up to being a full-time parent) That’s what it’s all about anyway, reunification. They were going to be reunified with their mom. We had done our job. We had prepared three children to be reunited with their family and even though it happened sooner (due to extreme circumstances) than we had expected, we had done it!

The problem was that the plan wasn’t decided until THURSDAY afternoon. We didn’t want to stress the kids out until we knew exactly what the plan was, so for seven days, we had to act like nothing was going on.

Thursday afternoon (May 19th) we sat the kids down and told them the plan: We have some exciting news! Your mom has been doing a really good job getting ready for your guys to come live with her and she is really looking forward to being together. So we talked to the social worker today and T is going to go stay with your mom starting tomorrow and then you guys (K and K) will be going the day after school gets out for the summer!

We tried to make it a positive thing. We wanted them to feel good about the transition. We thought that they would be excited, but they weren’t. The little one immediately started crying, saying he didn’t want to leave. The middle one was stressed because he was worried that his mom was going to let the little one play with his video games and that he would break them and the oldest one was concerned about leaving her friends and not going to the beach.

Looking back, I realize that we shouldn’t have been surprised by these reactions, but I don’t know, it was so weird at the time.

That night we let the little one pick what he wanted for dinner, he chose CiCi’s Pizza. We ate, came home, did our normal evening routine, and I tucked him in for the last time. That sucked ass.

Earlier that week, I think it was Wednesday, in all the stress of the situation, I got one last chance to just hold him. It was about 10pm, over an hour after they’d gone to bed-- Brett and I were sitting on the couch watching TV and he came stumbling into the living room, mostly asleep, and crawled into my lap. I just sat there and held him, and cried, hard. I cried a lot that week, when no one was looking and I was so grateful that I got to cry while holding him, without him ever knowing.

God, I’m crying now. A lot.

That kid had (has) a very special place in my heart. All three of them did, do and always will. They are precious, precious children.

I know that we made an impact on their lives; we showed them other possibilities, gave them the opportunity to learn and grow and to be loved whole heartily. I feel good about what we did and I’m glad we did it. I have no regrets. They will forever be a part of my life and will always be in my heart.

I am so blessed to have had the chance to love them. So, so blessed.

The details of the next day are too painful to recap. Even though I was dropping him off with his mom, it hurt- BAD.
I cried several times over the next few days but tried to stay positive for the older two.

The following three weeks were like night and day compared to the weeks, months leading up to them. Having just the two was effortless. They still gave us a hard time, were mouthy and didn’t always follow directions, but they were like different children.

While all three were with us, I NEVER got a free moment unless they were sleeping or I was out- alone. I know kids require a lot of attention, but this was constant and beyond normal. Neither Brett nor I realized until the little one was gone just how much all three of them constantly fought for my attention- I mean constantly. The therapist had pointed it out, but it had become my normal so it didn’t occur to me that it was actually happening. I just knew that I heard “Andreeea” about 75 times per hour- and I don’t think that’s an exaggeration. Ask Brett!

But when the little one left- a calm came over the house; the older two suddenly became independent and were able to occupy and entertain themselves, sometimes together, sometimes separately. I could actually go an hour maybe longer without hearing my name even once.

It was strange how the entire dynamic of our home changed, literally overnight.

Two nights before their last day with us the middle one chose McDonald’s for dinner and the last night, the oldest one chose Church’s Chicken. The last day school came, they said goodbye to their friends, came home and packed up their clothes and toys. That night, I tucked them in for the last time and the next morning I took them to their mom.

I’ve talked to them a few times since that day. They don’t have very good cell service where they live so talking on the phone is difficult, couple that with their limited communication skills and it’s VERY difficult to have a conversation. I am trying to stay in touch and hope to do so forever but I’m hoping that as quickly as we became a family, they are now doing the same now, only better, with their real family. So I am giving them some space, reminding myself daily that I did my job and letting them move on.

***

People often ask me if I miss them- This is a tricky question. I miss loving them. I miss seeing them. I miss the good times. But it was an INTENSE five months and there are a LOT of things that I don’t miss; the constant stress, for one.

If you follow me on Facebook, then you know how much we accomplished and I will forever treasure those accomplishments, but those accomplishments were pepper flakes compared to the daily challenges we faced and now that it’s all over, contrary to the end of many relationships- only remembering the good stuff, I mostly remember the bad. In fact, it’s not so much remembering as it is, just now recognizing just how hard it was. I spent five months trying to be positive, trying to make things good, trying to create an image for them and those who were part of their lives, that I rarely even admitted to just how bad it was.

***

And now the rest of the rest of the story…

I don’t know if we’ll ever do it again.

The truth is that we learned from them as much if not more than they learned from us. Having kids is hard- duh! Everyone knows that. But you don’t realize until you have three children who depend on you for everything to see that this may not be what you want forever, at least not for us.

I realize that we had a tough case. Trust me, EVERYONE told us that, constantly. Even the in-home therapist would come to the house every Monday, and say, “I don’t know how you guys do it. I gotta go home and drink!” Yeah, I know, she was high quality. Ha! But we did have an extreme case. One that burnt us out, big time! However, that’s not the main reason we are second guessing our want/need to have children and a “family”. We realized just what a sacrifice it is to have children and we’re not sure we want to make those sacrifices forever.

About two weeks into being full-fledged foster parents I realized, there are no guarantees. Whether you adopt older kids, babies or even have your own, there is no guarantee that you will not be bailing them out of jail when they’re 17 or giving them rent money when they’re 23 or visiting them in rehab when they’re 30. And to be quite honest, I don’t think that’s a risk that I actually want to take. I want to travel and see the world. I want to experience different cultures and lifestyles. Being a parent is one of those… which I can now check off my list.

I’m suddenly aware of my life and all that I want to accomplish- being a parent for the rest of that time isn’t on that list. Maybe for parts of it over the next ten years or so, as a foster parent, but at this point I have no desire to get pregnant, give birth or adopt. It sounds terrible when I say it out loud and even worse when I read it in type, but it’s true.

I have a whole new appreciation for parents and the forever-sacrifices they make. You are a special breed. (Breeders) And I applaud you! It takes some serious commitment and GUTS!

***

I realize of course that this could all change, and future blog title could be something to the effect of “Eating My Words”.

Update, because it’s been a while.

I hesitate to write this blog because I worry about jinxing things.  Yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds, but it’s true. 

Although every day is still a challenge, as I’m guessing it is in most families, we are certainly seeing huge improvements.  We are absolutely amazed at these kids and how well they are doing with daily activities.  We are perhaps even more amazed at ourselves with how well WE are doing. 

One month ago we were averaging 3-4 times outs per day with each of the boys.  That’s 6-8 total—EXHAUSTING!  These last two weeks we’ve averaged about 3-4 PER WEEK! 

The cussing has decrease significantly, which let me tell you, is SUCH a huge relief.  It still happens a couple of times per day, sometimes accidentally, some times on purpose, but 95% of the time it stops with a simple warning. 

For a while there it was CONSTANT.  Pretty much, if the boys were awake and not eating, they were cussing.  Not cussing AT us, just cussing and/or fake cussing.  What is fake cussing you ask?  Let me give you an example:

“cockcockcockcaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhck,cockcockcockcahhhhhhhhhhhhk” 

“cut it out, now”

“what?  I wasn’t saying a cuss!”  I was saying ‘cock’, like a bird”

“I don’t want to hear it.  Say it again and you’re going to time out”

seconds later

“crashit, crash it, cra shit”

“time out now!”

“I didn’t say a cuss!” 

“Go- now…now!”

“I hate you! You’re mean!  Meanie, meanie, meanie!”  (and on and on for several minutes, while throwing pillows off the time out couch")

UGH!!!

But now, like I said, the cussing is minimal and I’m also happy to report that time out is bearable.  Well, mostly bearable.  Better anyway.

Their communication skills have improved drastically and they are now able to speak real sentences, even paragraphs, which keeps their minds and mouth from wandering aimlessly to curse words. 

School!  Oh my gosh!  I am sooooooooooo proud of them!  They are doing insanely well in school.  The (now 11 year old) girl is making friends- three of them even came to her birthday party on Saturday.  She wants me to do her hair every morning and she is taking pride in was she wears to school.  She is learning to read and can do double digit math problems!  She is learning to count money and is getting the basics of multiplication. 

She is so smart and insanely athletic but man can she cop an attitude!  Woooh!  I mean seriously.  Ah, the pre-teen years. –I’m too young for this!  HA!

Emotionally, she is quite closed off but she has recently started laughing, like real belly laughs.  Like the boys she really only has two emotions:  happy and angry.  But she and I have really bonded the past few weeks and when I tuck her in at night she always gives me a hug and tells me she loves me.  *melt”

The nine year old boy is growing too, although, a little slower than the others.  He is figuring out that letters make sounds and that those sounds make words.  He gets so proud of himself when he can figure out how to spell things and his big huge smile just warms my heart.  He talks non-stop now.  NON-STOP!  Mostly about random stuff, but he’s talking.  AND chewing with his mouth closed.  THIS IS HUGE!  He gets frustrated really easily but  with a lot of encouragement he is find ways to complete tasks without just giving up. 

The little one, 7, is growing by leaps and bounds.  He has gotten 100% on his last three spelling tests and read almost an entire picture book to me last week.  I thought I was going to cry. 

My GOD he is cute and he knows how to work it. I have to remind myself to stand firm and not get sucked in by it.

The last few days he has been driving me CRAZY!  Getting into things he KNOWS he should be in to.  On Saturday, he took all of the food color that I had on the counter (I was making frosting for K’s b-day cake) without me seeing him.  He took it outside and squirted it ALL OVER the front walk-way.  I didn’t realize this until I went to clean up and noticed that they were all empty.  There were on the counter, where I had left them, but the BRAND NEW bottles were completely EMPTY!  I called him into the kitchen and flat out asked him if he had been playing with them.  He immediately apologized (in his cute little way) and I had to pinch myself to keep from getting sucked in.  I, of course, scolded him then made him write “I will not touch other people’s belongings” 10 times.  --Throughout the day he had also been caught with Brett’s watch, his sister’s RC helicopter AND the OLD food coloring, for which he had already gotten in trouble for that morning.  When he was done writing his sentences, I presented him with a bucket and a toothbrush and made him scrub  the (now kinda cool, but I won’t tell him that, tie dyed) sidewalk. UGH!!  We talked about the incident and he promised he wouldn’t touch other people’s stuff.  Well, at least not until Sunday when he was caught playing with my phone, Brett’s handheld GPS, my sunglasses and then this morning my keys as he was trying to break-in to the storage room to try to find god-knows-what!!!  UGH! 

Did I mention how cute he is?  Precocious, but cute.

***

So a part of the fostering stuff that you don’t really learn about in the classes is all the business/legal stuff.  Court dates, family visits, meetings with Guardian ad litems, therapists, social workers, etc., etc., etc.  This is truly a full-time job and can be quite stressful on us and the kids.  Understandably so.

We try to keep things as “normal” as possible and for the most part we operate just like normal family.  A “normal family” that has visits with “real” (birth) family twice a week and other extraneous people several times a month. 

We seem to have a good system in place, with lots of routine during the weekdays.  Weekends, which we all want to look forward to are often the most stressful because of the lack of routine and structure.  We are finding that when the kids have too much free-time all hell breaks loose so we are working to find a balance, it’s definitely getting better.

I’m just so proud of them and perhaps even more proud of us.  Brett and I both feel like we definitely made the right choice to become foster parents.  We constantly talk about just how lucky we are and how good it feels to KNOW that what we are doing is important, impactful and completely fulfilling.

Although I may never know what it’s like to be pregnant or nurse and infant, I certainly know what it’s like to be a mom…and I love it!

You may have noticed...

that I haven't posted anything in almost two weeks. This lapse in posts is partially due to a lack of time, but unfortunately, it's mostly due to the struggles we've been experiencing.

No one said this was going to be easy. We knew coming into all of that this that even though we had been through all of the training, had all of our inspections and meeting with social workers-- and talked it over...and over and over; we'd never be FULLY prepared.

Over the past few weeks we've established a comptlely different lifestyle. We knew this was coming. We didn't know it was going to happen so soon, but regardless, we knew. What we didn't know was just how much it was going to affect us emotionally. We had discussed the physical aspects of it. We talked about how we were going to be on someone else' schedule and we talked about the changes we were going to have to make to our home to make it more kid-friendly. But we didn't talk about how these physical things were going to make us feel.

When a married couple gets pregnant and then has a baby, they get nine months to prepare for the arrival (similar to us) but they also get a lifetime to establish personalities, likes, dislikes, routines, habits, etc. When these three kids arrived at our home three weeks ago, we knew NOTHING about them and they knew even less about us. It goes without saying that this creates exceptional difficulties, but to what extent?

Well let me tell you. Food. Ever time I grocery shop or cook, I have to keep my fingers crossed and HOPE that they'll eat our food. A common conversation in our home goes something like,

"This isn't the kind of _______ we have at mommom's house".

"Well what kind do you have?"

"The kind in the box"

External dialogue, "Oh, well I'll see if I can find that kind next time I go shopping"

Internal monologue, "Oh the BOX, that helps! ARGH!"

Details and descriptors are not a strength, even when asked LOTS of questions, the answer is usually "uh, iunknow"

This brings us to other "things" we're having to work through. If you follow me on Facebook, you probably already know that the kids FINALLY started school last week. You may also know that this is their FIRST TIME EVER in school. FIRST!! They are 7, 9 and almost 11. Supposedly they were "home-schooled" but it doesn't appear that there was any structure.

According to the kids they each had a TV in their room with a "game system" and that's what they did all day. This may or may not be the truth, but judging by where they are academically and how GOOD they are at video games, I'm gonna go with: LIKELY.

Symantecs? Another thing we are have to work through is making sure we're all on the same page. From "what do we all consider an apple to be?" (red, green, yellow, etc.) to "what do we all consider a game to be?" If you ask the kids, "what do you like to do for fun? The answer is, "play games". But if you say,

"hey, want to play a game?"
"Sure!"
"Okay, how about Go Fish?...Tic-tac-toe?.....Twister?........"
"Those aren't games! Those are BOARD games!"
"well then what kind of games do you like to play?"
"I dunno, game system games, like Wii and Play Station."

"Ohhhh, okay, right. I see now. Well let's try something different, how about ______?"

"We don't like stupid BOARD games"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

This is just one example of the differences in our vocabularies.

Speaking of vocabularies. Words we take for granted such as "privileges" and "consequences" had no definition three weeks ago. Words smaller than those have been a challenge too. It can be so frustrating sometimes. Dealing with children as tall as me, trying to solve "big kid" problems with the vocabulary of a four year old, creates what sometimes feels like a brain teaser. Or at least patting your head and rubbing your stomach. It requires A LOT of patience.

Trust me, I'm NOT complaining. It's challenging, EVERY DAY, but the reward is worth it. Like I said, three weeks ago they didn't know "privileges" and "consequences", now, they are experts. :-) Baby-steps, one foot at a time.

So what's going on with school? Well, with a bit of hesitation and some necessary coddling, we've made it SEVEN days now. The middle one is having the hardest time. He's extremely shy on his own and he has zero patience for anything that isn't easy. He doesn't know what to do with praise and doesn't recognize accomplishment when he succeeds. We're working on it...SLOWLY.

The oldest one was anxious to start school and so far she is loving it-- thankfully! She has A LOT of work ahead of her, as do the other two. But she will be 11 in March and can't write her last name, add more than 2+2 and can't read a sentence.

The boys have the same struggles but at least they're a BIT younger. However, they all have more catching up to do than one person can even imagine. They are SO smart. All of them. So freaking capable! But only have the education/experience of a pre-kindergartner. Makes me sick to my stomach. I often wonder how many other children there are out there in the same situation.

No child should ever have to experience what foster children experience- bad home-life, being taken away from their families, sent to live with strangers, etc.,...but I think these kids are lucky. They have been given an opportunity to learn and grow rather than perpetuate this vicious cycle that some are unable to escape; Uneducated kids, growing up to be uneducated adults, raising uneducated children.

Although this is by-far the hardest job I've ever had, it's also the most rewarding and I'm so, so, so proud of these kids.

***

So why has it been so bad? Well, last week, Brett was out of town Tuesday through Thursday, which left me alone with the kids for three whole days. Alone on their first day of school, alone on their second day of school, alone on their third day of school. I'm still not sure how I managed, but I did-- bedtime and all. Pure adrenaline maybe?

The thing is, those three days weren't THAT bad. We did have one incident on Wednesday night that I thought for sure was going to end badly. Complete with a showdown in the Target parking lot followed by kicking and screaming the whole way home, followed a tantrum that included a knocked over trash can, books thrown on the floor and a broken cat-food dish. NOT FUN. Especially when you're alone, with three kids, that you suddenly realize, you barely know.

I don't remember how I managed it now. I think I've erased it from my memory. It sounds worse than it actually was. I never felt like I was in danger, but I knew I had lost control of the situation and I had no one to help me get it back.

Oh wait, I remember. After not giving in to the cat and mouse game the "tantrum child was trying to play". We finally went upstairs, where I closed the door, stood in front of it and when the opportunity arose, I grabbed the child, gave a big hug and said calmly, "I'm not going to hurt you. I love you. You need to calm down."

It had dawned on me that these kids are probably used to being hit when they are "bad" and that the fear was that I was going to do the same- hence the running away.

This was a proud moment for me. :-)

Over the next few days we had similar episodes with the same child, followed by "monkey see monkey do" behavior by another. Saturday afternoon culminated in an emergency call the social worker, behind closed doors, complete with lots of tears and a little hyper-ventilating, I told her I didn't know what to do.

The subject of removing the child was discussed as a potential plan for Monday. I shared this conversation with Brett who thought it might be the best solution. This was Saturday afternoon.

That night, when I crawled into bed next to Brett, I just cried. And cried. I couldn't bear the thought of sending one away. I couldn't even begin to think of that scenario-- packing up belongings, opening the door for the social worker, allowing them to walk in to our home and then leave with a child. Saying goodbye. What would I say?? How would I face the other two after the door closed?

NO! NO!NO!NO!

It makes me ill to think about it.

We knew something had to change. Brett and I talked about it, and talked about it and talked about it. We were feeling helpless, feeling like we had bitten off more than we could chew. The more we talked about it, the more we realized that behavior problems aside, we were feeling inconvenienced. We knew the moment we accepted the placement that our lives were about to be turned upside down but we didn't realize that we were going to miss all of the things we once had but never noticed before.

We weren't taking this frustration out on the kids per se, but the issues that the kids were presenting made our inability to be self-centered completely impossible. We couldn't wake up when we wanted, go to sleep when we wanted, eat when we wanted, watch what we wanted and even more, we couldn't NOT sleep when we wanted, NOT eat when we wanted, NOT WATCH what we wanted. Our lives had gone from doing what we want, when we want to the complete opposite- at the mercy of three young kids. Kids that were disrespecting, testing boundaries and pushing limits.

We quickly realized that although the children were being difficult, our attitude needed to change. That was Sunday morning. That day we spent the entire day playing with the kids outside. We had a picnic lunch and ate dinner on the patio. Bedtime was still a challenge, but we found joy in what we had accomplished during the day-- some serious bonding. Since then, we've still had the same challenges we had before, but I think we've all found a new respect for each other. The kids are trusting us more and we're enjoying being "parents" more.

The hardest part in all of this is realizing that my fantasy is very different from reality. At least for right now. I instantly fell in love with these three children and wanted them to instantly fall in love with me. I anticipated "having kids" would mean "being a family". I forgot that even though I WANT a family, these kids already have one. I'm not saying that we won't grow into a family, after all it's only been three weeks, but just like my definition of "games" is different from their definition of "games", so is our definition of "family". For that, I cannot feel resentful.

I have faith that it WILL get easier, it WILL get better. But for now, I just have to be patient. Accept things the way they are and work towards making them better.

Now if I could just figure out what kind of ice cream they ACTUALLY like...

:-)

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.