Therapeutic Foster Care

The Tuesday before our staycation I received a phone call from Chica Marie’s mobile therapist. Apparently, Chica Marie had been telling a story at daycare regarding a hot bath, her hair being pulled, and a belt. The TSS worker, knowing this sort of thing could constitute a call to the child line, called her supervisor asking what she should do. The supervisor asked the mobile therapist to call me. I was blind sighted and confused, but even more than that I was scared. Mini Momma had made accusations, in fact that is what started her bouncing from one foster home to another. I was terrified to think Chica Marie would start doing the same thing – not just for myself but also for the boys. There are a lot of ramifications if we have to endure an investigation. And, it would be especially damaging knowing it was all based on a lie. At training that same night I alluded to the fear I felt and my family worker pulled me aside afterwards to get some more details. She suggested I write an email to herself, the acting case worker and the adoption case worker detailing Chica Marie’s behaviors. Everything I could remember. The email, when printed out, is over 7 pages long. And, I have since remembered some more things that I haven’t added to the list because what’s the point?

 

The last time the adoption case worker came over she said she would set up a meeting for all parties involved in Chica Marie’s case to discuss where things were and where they were going. It was planned to be before the psych evaluation that the county had already planned due to reports of behaviors during camp. I had been dreading the date of our meeting regarding Chica Marie. What had started as a simple question – is the county worker putting the brakes on the adoption due to Chica Marie’s behaviors? – turned into a full-fledged intervention, with the ultimate decision being removal. Prior to the meeting the case worker supervisor/our acting case worker asked me to think over how I felt about a partial hospitalization program or a two week intensive evaluation done out of the home. She asked me if I thought our home was the best home for Chica Marie. How do I answer that? What is best about not being with your biological family? Would Chica Marie be better off as an only child in a home with two parents? I don’t know. I don’t think I can answer that objectively. Or honestly, without my emotions coloring the answer.

 

I went into the meeting with a feeling of dread and left feeling numb. I could get angry about how things were left to get to this point, but that won’t help me right now. Is it fair? No. But, nothing in the system is fair. I was told that, while I do a good job of notifying staff of the issues as they happen, it wasn’t until I wrote it all down (well, typed it up) that the full weight of what I’ve been saying all along was evident. I could blame this on the bevy of case workers we have had during Chica Marie’s tenure with me, but again, that won’t help matters. I’m better off dealing with what is – Chica Marie has been recommended to therapeutic foster care. When they talked about removal during the meeting, I cried. I know, I know – as a para-professional I’m not supposed to let my feelings cloud my judgment, but good God I’m not heartless! Chica Marie is my child. While I’ve struggled with her and even wrestled with the idea of trying to move her out, I always came back to the fact that she is my child. Nothing made that more evident than hearing she would be taken away. “We are her family,” I declared and so there is hope she will be able to return to us once her behaviors have stabilized. At least, this is the hope.

 

Before the meeting with the school on Friday (more on this later), the county worker informed me the referral for therapeutic foster care had been made. I think she expected me to be, I don’t know, happy? Relieved? All I say was, “oh, ok.” And my heart sank. This was one less hurdle for the county. Next, they take this move to court, where I’m sure they will have no problem acquiring the approval and once they find a home she’s gone. I begged to have her stay in the same school, to give her some continuity. “They” think she needs to learn to deal with upheavals in life, this is part of her problem. I see them setting her up for disaster, at least in the beginning.   This whole everything is just so hard! I want to believe, as so many of the professionals have told me, this is the best thing for Chica Marie, this is giving her the best shot, but it does not feel that way – it feels like I’m giving up on her and sending her away. And that hurts like hell.

Baby Prepping 101

I spent the better part of morning at work trying desperately to not hear a conversation between my co-worker and her customer and handling the emotional fall-out from failing to avoid what they were saying. I’m not in the most sympathetic place right now, which will probably be evident. My co-worker is pregnant with her first child. She is due in December. She was answering the customer’s questions on how prepared she is for the new baby and she expressed fear in only having the glider, changing table, and crib set up in the baby’s room. She stated she was anxious because not everything is ready and she is worried the baby will come early and they won’t be prepared. When I was a new “mom” for the first time the only thing I had ready was a crib, which we quickly needed to convert into a toddler bed because our “baby” was two. The first time I had an infant, I had roughly 2 hours to get home from work and dig the car seat and bassinet out of the basement before not only the newborn but her older sisters showed up on my doorstep. I’ve never had a glider. Or a proper changing table, for that matter (I sort of made one on the end of a long dresser – it worked fine until Love Bug got too big!). It is entirely possible to go with very little baby paraphernalia, barring formula and diapers, in all honesty. And, she has a husband who can make a Target run for anything she cannot live without. I had to call my mom to help me take the three girls out to buy the oldest a coat since it was November and she came in just a long-sleeved tee-shirt and pants. I had a little more time with Love Bug; an entire weekend to get prepared seemed like a luxury compared to just a few short hours! I guess I can understand the anxiety as a new mother, but I just never had the luxury of 9 months to prepare for a specific child, just generally gather things I might or might not need, depending on the age of the child coming into my home. And, oddly enough, my first child – the one who actually became mine legally – came as a teenager, so no crib needed!    

Staycation 2017

Before I write more about the bad stuff, I’d like to relive some of the good stuff. Last week I took an entire week off of work for the first time since I-don’t-know-when. Definitely not since the kids have been with me! Not to say I haven’t taken time here and there, but usually only a long weekend away, not an entire week off of work. I mean, sure I was home with Love Bug when he was brand new but you can’t really call spending two weeks with a newborn a vacation! So, it was over-due and much anticipated. Primero requested a few days without the kids so they went into respite for the first time since my sister got married last July. I didn’t really plan for us to go away anywhere, we just did little staycation activities, visiting local attractions and whatnot. So, here is a recap of our staycation 2017.

 

Sunday – I took Love Bug and Chica Marie to a train festival. Ever since we took my college roommate to the train station, Love Bug has been obsessed with choo-choo trains. At the festival we were able to board some of the trains (they were on dead tracks, so we weren’t going anywhere), see a large model train, ride small hand-peddle trains (the kids did this, I did not), hear and watch them start a large train engine, and visit the train museum with more model trains and finally a toy train track the kids could touch! Love Bug was in his element, so much so that he didn’t want to leave. He expressed his displeasure at leaving my scratching my arm red as I tried carrying him from the event.

 

We went home and ate a quick dinner before heading out to the park to play because it was such a nice day. We played until it started getting dark and then went home to watch Moana and eat popcorn. This was clearly Love Bug’s favorite day because he kept telling me about seeing the train, going to the park and eating popcorn.

 

Monday – We went to visit Lake Tobias Wildlife Reserve. It was a bit of a drive, just under 2 hours away and the day was cloudy and threatening rain. Primero went along, begrudgingly because teenagers. I was excited to take the kids, having had a great experience previously with a different foster child. So, we bought the tickets for the safari and walked the wilderness path, past a few cages of golden pheasants (they are gorgeous!) to reach the safari station. I knew the kids would want to feed the animals and as we waited in line to purchase a cup of carrots, Love Bug spotted the popcorn, which was also an animal treat option. So, we ended up with a large bag of popcorn and a cup of baby carrots. The kids snacked on the animal treats while we waited to board the bus. We chose the last seats on the bus, me sharing with Love Bug and Chica Marie and Primero snagging a seat to himself. A wandering emu sauntered over to the bus much to Chica Marie’s delight. She called it a “pietro” for inexplicable reasons and tossed a few kernels of popcorn his way before the bus pulled out of the station and our safari began. The clouds cleared up a bit and there were peaks of sunshine as we moseyed around the pastures viewing and feeding bison, various deer, water buffalo, cattle and elk. Chica Marie complained most of the trip and declared it boring when she ran out of carrots. Primero wanted to leave after the safari ride but we talked him into seeing the lions and tigers and bears (oh my! – yes, we did this A LOT while we were there). We walked to the reptile building and the kids got to pet a snake (I forget what kind) and small alligator. When we went back outside it was raining and Primero was definitely ready to go. So ready, that he offered to fetch the van on the other side of the reserve while I waited with the kids under the roof of the reptile barn. The rain let up a bit and the kids wandered over to pet the miniature ponies and feed them and the donkeys who came ambling by for some snacks.

 

Tuesday – Primero needed the van to go to an appointment with the young adult program where I work. He wanted to go to the bank first to withdrawal some money from his account. Somehow, instead of going to the appointment he ended up joyriding around after going to the bank and he missed the appointment. I was annoyed because I had planned to take the kids to see Lost River Caverns and could have left earlier if he had planned on not attending the meeting. I did end up taking the kids and we had a nice time visiting the quirky cave. The kids were a little hard to manage and Love Bug did not understand the no-touching rule (eek! Cave damage!) The cave was on the smaller side so the tour didn’t last too long – I’d say it was just about right for the kids attention span. They were most excited to get the pretty swirly lollypops I promised them after the tour.

 

Wednesday – I took the kids to the respite home in the morning and drove back home. The plans were for Primero and I to go down the shore but those plans changed when his sister and friend both decided to crash at our place. Instead, we went to the pool. It was a perfect pool day and we had a lot of fun swimming and diving together. After the pool we went home to shower and then went to see a horror movie – Annabelle Creation. I was scared and the kids thought that was loads of fun. We went home and played a crazy funny video game together called That’s You – basically you answer questions about a person and if someone else agrees with you, you get a token. The person with the most tokens wins the game. It was hilarious and we laughed a great deal.

 

Thursday – The big kids decided they wanted to go a local recreation center with has a restaurant and arcade plus go-carts and a huge trampoline area. We drove the go-carts first and I did a terrible job thanks to my many years as a responsible, careful driver. Still, it was lots of fun. Then we went to jump on the X-treme trampolines and flop into the foam pits which were really hard to get out of! I was the only mom jumping and not sitting, watching my kids. Oh well! Their loss!

 

Friday – We picked up the kids and the rental car that morning. I wanted to get an earlier start to the day because we were driving to Philly for the Adventure Aquarium. Initially I had wanted to take the train, but it would have been too expensive for all of us, plus I wasn’t sure how we’d get to Penn’s Landing. So, we drove and somehow the GPS was taking us a REALLY long way and we got there so late that, after riding the ferry across the Delaware River, we only had about 45 minutes in the Adventure Aquarium. We made the most of it and pet some sting rays (they are more mushy and slimy than I thought they would be!) and we saw the hippos before heading to the shark tank. There’s a tube you can walk through to see the sharks and fish swimming above and around you and there is also a cargo-net bridge where you can walk over top of the tank, just feet above the swimming sharks. I was pretty amazing and worth it even if we didn’t get time to do much else. Love Bug was so, so crabby and uncooperative that day. It was so bad I don’t even want to write about it, let alone remember it! Chalk it up to being in respite, not getting a good enough (long enough) nap, and not having snacks whilst on our sojourn. It was a long, long day!

 

Saturday – Still dealing with a crabby threenager, we made our way to Penn’s Cave, which was just over a two hour drive into the more mountainous region of the state. I liked the second half of the drive, it was rather scenic. But, I’ve pretty much ruled-out any lengthy car travel for my crew, given how grumpy the lot of them became after only a short stint in the car. The cave we visited is permanently flooded, so the entire tour is done by boat. We walked a short distance from the gift shop, down a steep flight of stairs and onto the much cooler waiting dock, where I tried desperately to distract a very scared Love Bug by feeding the largemouth bass fish. Love Bug pitched a fit about getting on the boat, but he did eventually join us and we set off into the depths of the cave. It was an amazing tour and this is a cave I would see again. The cave river flows into a small pond before spilling into a local creek. So, along with our cave tour we saw elk, ducks, and a groundhog drinking water perched on a rock. It was spectacular and I only wish Love Bug had been more calm to enjoy it.

 

Sunday – We crashed back into reality with issues on the van’s breaks that necessitated a visit to the farm, which of course ended in s’mores.   

Isolated

A picture is worth a thousand words, so they say. I was flipping through Facebook the other day and came across a photo my former college roommate posted. It was a group shot of her, her family and other friends from college and their families. Looking at their smiling faces, I felt cheated. Not because I wasn’t invited to the get together, but because this was how I envisioned my life was supposed to be. Me, my husband, my kids and our college friends hanging out and reminiscing. I don’t know why, but the picture made me feel so isolated and lonely. I do keep in touch with some friends from college, but haven’t seen most of them in years. I think the combination of being away in the Peace Corps, being married to someone unwilling to socialize much with my group of friends (you could blame it on the language barrier, but he also didn’t mix me and his friends together either), dealing with infertility, and becoming a single foster parent and I’ve mostly made myself a social pariah. When I was married my ex didn’t like me to leave a lot, so it cut down on visiting and spending quality time with friends. When he left and I became a single foster parent it was the hurdle of finding respite for the kids in my care that made gathering with friends more complicated. Now that I’m at a point where I could be most social I look around and it seems like there’s no one left. I wish I had that one really good girlfriend who I could call with any problem and she would listen, or show up with a bottle of wine or drag me out for a girls night or just come eat ice cream on the sofa and talk. I would want to be that person for someone else. I just don’t know how you make that happen. I have friends, I have people I can talk to, but I also feel like I lose people. Am I too needy? Do they feel I never make the time for them? I liked the photo of my roommate, her kids and husband and the other college friends with their spouses and kids. I just wish it didn’t leave me feeling so empty.

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All the Feels

I have a lot to say and not a lot of energy to say it. I’m sad and angry. I’m tired and lost. I’m heart-broken and numb. My world feels unsteady and my future cloudy. This morning there was a big meeting regarding Chica Marie. It was me (obviously), the CHOR family worker, the CHOR adoption worker, the TSS worker, the mobile therapist, the county worker and her shadow for the day (maybe an intern?). Prior to the meeting, at the prompting of my family worker (in relation to an issue that I haven’t written about yet), I sent a very long, detailed email including as many things (behavioral-related things) as I could remember or had record of occurring. When I printed it out, it was 7 pages. Typed. Three long years of issues and things and incidents  - all of which have been reported either in person or via email to case workers, therapists, psychiatrists, and anyone else who would listen (professionally, not as in I shared private information with other’s who didn’t need to know). It was only once I sat and typed it all out that I was taken seriously. It was only when the weight of what we’ve been dealing with in our home on a constant basis was actually felt by the length of the email and the frequency of the happenings. Only NOW are things actually being added together. The help I’ve been begging for is finally here, only it’s not the help I thought I wanted. This morning it was recommended that Chica Marie, who has spent half of her few years in my home, should be moved to a therapeutic foster home because no one believes I have the ability to help her. The mommy she has known for these three long years might not be the mommy she thought was adopting her. Right now, I have more questions than I have answers. I don’t know when this move will happen. The county worker said it would be just weekends at first. I don’t know if this is temporary, as in get her stabilized and me better trained, or permanent, as in some other family will eventually adopt her. I don’t know what this means for Love Bug, although I know his placement is not being disrupted, I don’t know if his adoption is moving forward or stagnating with Chica Marie’s. So many, many unknowns. And I ache and hurt and wish things were not what they are right now.

How are We Here Already?

I remember being 16. I remember how exhilarating it was to get my driver’s license and suddenly have a freedom I had never known before. I wonder if my parents sat at home having heart palpitations while I was out enjoying my freedom? I wonder if their airways felt constricted contemplating all the things that could go wrong while their child was sipping their first tastes of adulthood? I’m sure they did, I’m sure most parents pace the floors worrying about their new driver being out on the road alone. I know it is natural for a young man Primero’s age to want to be out with friends, to take the car and zip around town willy-nilly but I personally hate it. I’m not ready for this! My heart constricts in my chest when I think of Primero becoming a legal adult in less than 6 months. He might never have been my literal baby, like Love Bug, but he’s still my baby, you know? I feel like we’ve hardly begun to be a family and he’s already talking about when he gets his own place (thankfully, I think he’s more realistic about this than his older siblings were) and how he can pick up a friend and drive them around. And my mind keeps screaming, “No-no-no-no-no-no!!!” How are we here already? So, I teeter between calmly settling appropriate boundaries and desperately clutching him to my chest, trying to mother hen him back under my wings safe and warm. I drive myself insane and then I beg him for forgiveness, telling him I’m new at this and it’s freaking me out. He mostly complies, knowing I have the power of hiding the car keys, but I know it bugs him too because he’s a good kid just trying to grow up. I’m sure we will find our footing as this becomes more mundane and regular, but until then I’ll just have to have a glass of wine and try not to worry while Primero is out and about.

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Real Mom

She’s only 6 but Chica Marie has already used the “real mother” verbiage. It happened at dinner. I don’t remember what we were talking about but she told Primero to “go ask” to his “real mom.” Honestly, I think Primero was more shocked about it than I was; I thought it would happen this first year in kindergarten when the kids mentioned the racial discrepancy between her and I. Primero was also more offended by her off-handed comment, insisting she take it back and never say it again. He must have forgotten the times when he said “you’re not my real mom” in anger. I let it slide. I calmly asked Chica Marie what she meant by saying “real mom” and she didn’t really answer me. So, I told her that she, in fact, has two very real mom’s. One of her mommy’s had Chica Marie in her tummy and one of her mommy’s was helping her grow up, but both of us are real and both of us are her mommies. Primero took it a step further, pinching my arm and saying I felt real to him. It was odd having Primero so staunchly argue the use of “rea mom” but hopefully it helped Chica Marie to understand the term isn’t one we use in our house. Usually, just saying “your mom” is enough to indicate which mother we are talking about and if not, we use first names. Here on the blog I use bio mom but I don’t use that with the kids because it’s redundant. I wonder how old Love Bug will be when he pulls out the “real mom” wording?  

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