Foster Mom Adventures

When I taught fifth grade, I always thought the last day of school was bitter-sweet.  While I looked forward to the conclusion of the school year and the fun of summer (though full time grad school wasn’t the most fun way to spend a summer), I also hated to say good-bye to the students I had taught and nurtured over the past nine months.  OK, so there were always one or two I didn’t mind bidding farewell, but that’s not the point. 

As the kids left my classroom for the very last time, I expected hugs and thank yous, declarations that they would miss me, and promises to come back and visit.  These are the things I pictured in my head anyway.  But when the final bell rung, none of that happened.  Instead, the kids screamed “summer!” and bolted out the door without looking back, ready to embrace their freedom.

That’s kind of how my good-bye with Samuel went down.  There was no more of a farewell than if I were dropping him off for an afternoon play date.  There was no looking back, and the only tears were my own—after I pulled the car out of the driveway and around the corner. 

The tears I cried were not tears of sadness.  They were really more of an emotional release, a way of me marking what I recognized as a significant moment—even if no one else did. 

It’s important for me to remember that I didn’t serve as Samuel’s foster parent for Samuel or even for other foster children out there.  It’s not because I want any kind of appreciation or gratitude.  I served as Samuel’s foster parent because it was what I was called to do, and it is my hope that answering that call glorified God in some small way.  That’s what it’s all about, and that’s what I try (though admittedly unsuccessfully at times) to live my life to do.

You may have noticed from the long hiatus I took in between my last post and this one that I will be blogging on a much less frequent basis.  I write about my adventures as a foster mom, so when I’m not a foster mom, it’s hard to find material.  There are a couple more posts left in me as I reflect on this experience, but I can’t predict when they will come out, so just stay tuned.

I can’t yet answer the questions of if or when I will foster again.  I don’t know yet.  My work schedule makes it impossible for me to foster from January-June 2011, so I plan to take at least a year off (from foster parenting, not from work—though don’t I wish?).  I am tempted to truly take a year to live comfortably and unchallenged, but I know that’s not what God called us to be.  Therefore, I am looking into several options to see what that next uncomfortable challenge is supposed to be.  There are lots of ways I can help foster kids without having them come live with me.  Maybe I will write about those adventures over the next year.  After all, even without a child in my direct care, I will forever remain Foster Mom.

Recently I read the word ‘recalcitrant’ describing some members of the US Congress. I found myself in an SAT word moment and actually had to look up the meaning;  now ‘recalcitrant’ is my new favorite word. In case you are in the same boat as me, I will save you the trouble. It means “stubbornly resisting the authority of another person or group.” If you were to look up ‘recalcitrant’ in the dictionary, you just might find a picture of Samuel.

Tonight, we had a show-down in Wendy’s. I picked Samuel up from attending his younger sister’s birthday party, and we got a much later start home that I had planned, so we stopped along the way to eat. After dinner, he asked for a “moth” which I finally translated to “malt” and asked him if a “frosty” would do. He said yes.

But on the way to purchase the ice cream, it took multiple corrections to get him to mind his manners around all the other people, and I warned him that I wouldn’t be buying an ice cream if he didn’t mind. When I had to correct him a fourth time, he yelled loudly “oh my gosh!” So I told him there would be no frosty and that we were headed to the car.

The problem was, Samuel did not head to the car. Samuel was recalcitrant. He stood stubbornly at the rail in front of the cash register and told me he was going to have a frosty. I quietly and calmly explained to him that if he wanted a frosty, then he should have respectfully followed directions. There was no way on earth I was going to spend money on a frosty to reward his behavior. There wasn’t any yelling between either of us. We both calmly stated our version of what was about to happen, and I reminded him that he was the child and I was the parent. This back-and-forth went on for some time as we both dug in our heels.

It took a miracle, but I finally got him to the car, where he gave me the direction “don’t talk to me.” But unlike other stand-offs that Samuel and I have experienced, this one ended up with us locked in a car together for 30 minutes. There was nothing he could do to escape me. Samuel exploded in anger on the drive home, but ironically enough, that turned out to be a positive thing for our relationship.

Samuel screamed that he didn’t want to be in foster care and that his being in foster care was all my fault. Finally, we got to the heart of why he is always so angry at me. For whatever reason, the thing he has never verbalized to be before: he blames me for his being in the system.

It gave me the opportunity to tell him that I am not the reason he is in foster care. He demanded to know who was, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. I simply reiterated that I didn’t know him, his family, or anything about him when he was put into foster care. All I knew was that I got a phone call and was asked if an 11 year-old boy named Samuel could come live with me, and I said yes. I further went on to point out many of the things I do for him (despite his treating me the way that he does) and explained that I am not required to do those things, but I do them because I care about him and because I am trying my best to do right by him.

I told Samuel that while I don’t require him to love, or even like me, I do require that he respect me as his parent—even if I am only a ‘foster parent,’ and only for three more days at that. He quickly corrected me and spoke the words “I never said I don’t love you.”

I can’t allow the entire month of May pass by without mentioning that May is Foster Care Awareness Month. You are obviously at least a little aware of foster care if you ended up on my blog, so maybe you are wanting to become a little more aware…or maybe even involved.

There are over 460,000 children in foster care in America today. In Texas alone, there are over 25,000 children in care. Of that population, 30% are age 14 or older, which means that most of that 30% are very likely to age out of the system without ever being adopted by or reunited with a family.

While reunification is typically the first goal when a child is put into care, that only becomes a reality for less than one-third of the kids in foster care in Texas. Samuel’s experience of being reunited with a primary caregiver isn’t what happens for most kids in the system.

The Foster Care Awareness Month campaign has compiled an excellent list for anyone who may want to get involved in this crazy adventure with the intent to help the kids who need help the most. Click here to view the options on their Change a Lifetime menu. It gives you options for whatever time you have to give—whether that is minutes, hours, weeks, or more.

And while you may not have noticed before, I have quite a few links that remain active on this page all the time. They are mostly Austin and Texas based, as that’s what I know best, but there are a couple of national sites as well that could lead you to finding information on other states as well. If you want to learn more about what is required to be a foster or adoptive parent in Texas, you can click here. If you don’t feel that you are called to be a foster parent, there are still lots of ways you could help kids.

• Children in foster care need mentors in a big way—kids like Samuel who are boys and placed with single moms, and lots of other kids like him are waiting for someone like you to step up and spend some time with them. I hear foster children can serve as great cover for checking out the latest new kids’ movie.  My agency has a sign up for mentors and they never have enough.  There are lots of other great mentoring programs too.  More than I can list, yet never enough volunteers.
• Children in foster care need advocates, like a Court Appointed Special Advocate or (CASA) to speak on their behalf in court and make sure all the right decisions are made.
• Children in foster care need stuff. Organizations like the Partnerships for Children  and the Presbyterian Children’s Home and Services stock places like the Rainbow Room so that when children are first placed in care with only the clothes on their backs, caseworkers can pick up items like toothbrushes, pajamas, and a stuffed toy to make things a little more comfortable and a little less scary.
• Children in foster care (and their families—both biological and foster) need your prayers.  We need prayers that these kids will be able to beat the statistics and not end up homeless at 18, in prison, or worse.  We need prayers the these children would be loved and nurtured enough to overcome the obstacles in their paths.

There are so many ways you can help. There are so many kids who need your help.

Last night, we went over to the home of an awesome family for dinner and swimming in the lake near their house. The kids were very excited to go swimming (whereas I, on the other hand, wouldn’t be caught dead swimming in any body of water in which I can’t see what is below the surface) and ran for the water the moment we rounded the corner and it came into view. I wasn’t able to catch Samuel to make him leave his glasses with me; and I should have.

The kids swam out to the floating dock in the middle of the lake. While standing on the dock, Samuel started yelling my name and pointing at the water. At first, I couldn’t tell if he was trying to tell me someone was drowning or what. Then I understood, when in addition to my name he started screaming “my glasses!” I’m not sure what he thought I was going to do about that standing on shore, but by the time I was able to understand what was happening, it was far too late to give the instruction “go get them!”

It’s funny how history repeats itself. In Samuel’s previous placement in foster care, his behavior went from bad to worse once he knew he was leaving. And just before he left their care, his glasses were broken. That’s why he came to me without glasses. Sadly, he will be leaving me that way as well. It takes five days to get his glasses, so with the Memorial Day Holiday, there is certainly no way he will get them in time. If I don’t order them on Tuesday, he won’t have insurance to pay for them though, so I plan to order them first thing Tuesday morning and have them delivered to his new home.

Samuel informed me today the he thinks a fish is probably wearing his glasses.  He might be right.

I regret to inform you that I have yet to figure out how to live life with no regrets. Regrets don’t help anything for the better, and I would be better off to live life without them, but they are a reality. Often my regrets aren’t things that I have done, but things that are left undone, the “I wish I could haves” and the “if onlys.”

While I don’t regret saying yes to having Samuel come live with me, there are some things that through hindsight, I wish I would have done differently along the way. Those aren’t regrets though. Those were opportunities to learn. My regrets I can list as two things. These are the loose ends that I regretfully will not be able to tie up before Samuel leaves my care.

First, the letter Samuel wrote to the Department of Family and Protective Services back on March 2 never received a reply. We knew the rules wouldn’t be changed in time for him to jump on a trampoline as a foster child, but I at least thought they would write him back. In one week’s time Samuel will no longer be a foster child and he will be able to jump on a trampoline all he likes. I regret the lesson I fear he was taught through this experience—the system doesn’t care about you. I wanted him to feel empowered by at the very least having his voice heard, and that didn’t happen. I wish I had done more to press the issue on his behalf.

And second, the follow-up hearing test for Samuel is scheduled for June 16. Remember when we went to see a specialist back in February due to the hearing loss Samuel suffers in one ear? We were referred to a very specialized and wonderful hospital in the area for further and more in-depth tests, but when I received the call back in February to set up the follow-up, we were told the fist available appointment was on June 16.

Once I found out Samuel would be back with his family by then, I first tried to have the court order that his family will take him to the appointment. However, I have found out that the court can’t do that, and that the moment he leaves my care, he loses his state health insurance. It will be totally up to his grandmother to secure health insurance and take him to the appointment on the 16th at the hospital for a condition that she doesn’t think is that big of a deal.

I have been scrambling to plead Samuel’s case with the hospital and tried to call in some favors, but nothing can be done to push the appointment up. There is only one specialized audiologist serving our entire region who can perform this test, and they are currently booking appointments for this individual in December. There is literally nothing more that I can do other than pray Samuel’s grandmother follows through.

Last week we had fire trucks on our street, and tonight we had a little brush with the law. Yesterday, I spent the afternoon searching the neighborhood for a missing dog, and tonight I made the same rounds looking for a missing boy.

Samuel pulled one of his typical 11-year-old boy stunts and I called him on it and asked him to correct the situation. Samuel became angry and took off out the door.

He didn’t go terribly far away, but he would not come home. Twice I tried to talk to him and get him to return, but he would only take off running again. I explained to him that he could choose to return or else I would be forced to call the police to get him home safely. He simply yelled “fine!” over his shoulder as he took off again. For a split second, I considered tackling him and physically dragging him home kicking and screaming, but I ultimately decided that wasn’t the best course of action.

After he was gone for over 30 minutes, and it was good and dark out, I followed the standard operating procedures given to me by my agency, and I called the non emergency number for the police. I was connected with the Travis County Sherriff’s Department, and I honestly think it took longer for me to give them Samuel’s physical description than it did for the deputies to arrive. When they arrived, they already had Samuel in the back of the car! They picked him up in the parking lot of a convenience store nearby. The deputies opted to let him sit in the back of the car for a while until all the paperwork could be completed. They entered all the information from my driver’s license into the system, so I’m not sure if that means I have a “record” now or not.

Any time the sheriff or any other law enforcement agency picks up a child in this position, they of course have to ask the child if there is a reason why they ran away. They need to know if the child has been abused or has reason to fear harm from their caregivers. Want to hear Samuel’s complaint about me? The deputy pulled me aside to share that Samuel said he has trouble falling asleep at night because I talk too loudly on the phone after he has gone to bed.

The irony of Samuel’s complaint is that I usually take great pains to ensure that if I make a phone call after he has gone to bed, I do so from a location where I will not be overheard, such as the laundry room or back patio. Last night was an exception because I needed access to my laptop while I was on the phone to consult with a friend–about the invitation the party I am throwing for Samuel! It’s really laughable to me that when the sheriff picked him up that was the only complaint he could think to share.

Do I question my parenting abilities due to the fact that I had to call the Sheriff to bring my kid back home? Sure. It’s not the scenario I wanted for either one of us. However, this is a unique time in a very unique parenting situation. Just as the last week is the time with the graduating seniors pull all their pranks in high school, this is the time when Samuel is going to display all the extra special stunts he has been saving up for his last week as well.  I cannot allow the inmate to run the asylum, so I’m going to have to employ some extra special parenting techniques during this final week.

My hope now is that Samuel didn’t like the attention from the sheriff deputies so much that he attempts to leave again to make them come back!

Samuel spoke with his mother on the phone last night, and he insisted on calling her again this morning before he left for school. It makes me almost physically ill to watch him go through this cycle with her again.

His mother can’t see him, but she has unlimited phone access to him. When she does finally call him, he wants to talk to her as much as he can before she goes away again. Therefore, Samuel will go almost a month without talking to her at all and then have long conversations with her and constant contact for a couple of days. I try my best to respect and honor the relationship he has with his mom, although I find that really challenging at times.

I let him slide a little on reading and bedtime in order to have the conversation with his mother last night. I packed his lunch this morning and got everything else ready that he usually is responsible for so that he could make the quick call before he left for school. However, Samuel is simply angry with me when I do eventually have to force him to hang up the phone before he misses the bus or goes to bed any later than he already is. Heaven forbid that his mother should back me up on that and enforce things that are good for him.

But what makes my blood boil more than anything is listening to the promises she makes that Samuel actually believes. He so desperately wants to believe everything she says. And I can’t blame him for that. What kid wouldn’t? I wish I could protect him from having his heart broken all over again, but I can’t.

And in 10 short days, Samuel will no longer be in the temporary custody of the State of Texas (in foster care), but will be under the Permanent Managing Conservatorship of his grandmother. At that point, all the tiny pieces of protection the court has ordered for him, such as only phone access with his mother, will all be at his grandmother’s discretion. I pray that she chooses wisely.