To say the least, we have gotten a wide variety of reactions from people about our being foster parents. For the most part we have been very lucky – our friends and family have supported us.
That’s not always the case. One friend of ours who has her own biological son and also fostered for a while, was constantly begging certain family members not to shower gifts and praise and attention on her bio son and ignore her foster son because it made her foster son – who was about 6 at the time and keenly aware of the discrepancy – feel awful. Thank heavens we haven’t been put in that position.
It helps, no doubt, that we don’t have bio kids and the only grandchild on my side of the family is my 15 year old niece who dotes on our foster kids and is insanely good with them even when their various behaviors emerge. My sister has bought our kids adorable expensive clothes and toys, my father has bought them toys, and my mother has knit them sweaters and hats and made them teddy bears. My family has supported us through the ups and downs of foster parenting, and graciously refrained from being critical about our decision not to have our own biological kids.
My work colleagues at my law firm were a mixed bag. Some were wonderfully supportive even when baffled as to why we would want to get involved in a broken foster care system and have our hearts ripped out when kids go home. Others treated me strangely, and very differently from my colleagues who had bio kids. I always felt like an outsider among firm higher ups once we began fostering because some people just didn’t know what to make of us.
I clearly remember one professional dinner I attended where I relayed the story of how Gronckle stopped breathing one night when he had croup, and we had to call 911 to get him to the hospital in an ambulance, and the kid scared the pants off us and the EMT by intermittently stopping breathing at regular intervals all the way to the hospital. The reaction from the folks at the table was casual disinterest. After the dinner I talked with one of my colleagues who was at the table and who is a good friend, and she was shocked that the general reaction was so tepid. It just struck her as strange. I was so grateful she told me she felt the reaction was odd because it was very validating. I’m the type of person who internalizes everything and I was sure my dismay was unfounded until she reassured me it was not.
Oh well. I’m ok with some folks not understanding me, especially now that I no longer work there.
I already wrote about Seth’s evil boss who apparently thought he should let Mouse die rather than take her to the ER in the middle of a work day. He was a real charmer. My experiences clearly could have been far worse!
A few folks have been skin-crawlingly awkward about our being foster parents. One of my former work colleagues used to refer to our kids as our “critters,” and told me, in a condescending tone, at least once a week that I’m an angel and am going directly to heaven. I never knew what to say in response other than to smile weakly. Seth has had some folks tell him he’s an angel and it doesn’t bother him at all, so maybe it’s just bothersome to me because I know I’m not angelic. Just ask Seth. 😂
There is, however, one reaction that Seth and I both get regularly that makes us both cringe. It’s so common for people to learn we are foster parents and then exclaim, “I don’t know how you do it. *I* couldn’t do it. I’d get too attached.” Giving people the benefit of the doubt, perhaps what they really mean is “You must be stronger than I am.” But if that’s what they mean, I wish they would say that instead. Because every time I hear “I’d get too attached” what my heart hears is “You must be a cold fish if you can just let kids go.” I know I’m not the only one who is bothered by that phrase because my second favorite sweatshirt is this:
My absolute favorite sweatshirt says “My favorite season is the fall… of the patriarchy.”
I apparently have a thing for snarky hoodies.
sprinklesonachaoscupcake.com 