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Bullies of a Three-Year-Old

I wrote about how much I adore Tiny. And here’s where I worry aloud about her.

Tiny IS TINY. She’s finally in size 2T at age 3. She’s a Little Person, with a form of dwarfism that can’t be treated with growth hormones or anything else. All that can be done for her is treating all the many symptoms as they arise and watching carefully for complications.

I mentioned she has wonky knees and that’s because when she was born her knees bent backward and had to be entirely reconstructed. They work great but have a limited range of motion so she has a slightly unsteady looking gait. It doesn’t stop her and she has no idea there’s anything different about her walk. She’s three. She’s just thrilled to be able to run and walk and climb like any other three-year-old kid.

Yesterday we went to the zoo, as you do with three restless kids. The pastor of our church hosted an outing for all the church-school age kids, which was lovely and fun. But as we walked past the red panda enclosure a couple of teens walked past. One was walking in an exaggerated form of Tiny’s walk. And then he loudly said she “looks like a r****d.” He could only have been talking about Tiny. The other teen with him laughed, and the adult with them gave a half laugh and said “you prolly shouldn’t say that so loudly” or something along those lines.

I. Saw. Red.

For starters, who the fuck makes fun of a three-year-old kid with disabilities?! I’d guess the teen was around 13-15 range – I have a hard time reading ages of teens. He was just an ordinary looking kid. Loud, so he was looking to be overheard and get attention.

Secondly, how am I going to handle these encounters as Tiny grows up and becomes aware of what’s happening? She was totally oblivious yesterday, chattering about animals as the teen mocked her. Thank. The. Goddess. But she’s going to encounter kids like that one many many times.

I think in retrospect I could have said something to the man with them. But clearly he didn’t care about how offensive the kid with him was being. He was embarrassed I’d guess, but doesn’t have control enough of the teen to do anything about it.

What I wanted to do? VIOLENCE. I wanted to kick the kid’s legs out from under him as he did his exaggerated walk. And I wanted to slap the smirk off his face. I quashed the instinct of course because hello, I’m a freaking adult and he’s a misguided kid. But holy sweet fancy Moses, I didn’t know I had that kind of instinct in me. I’ll, eh hem, mention it to my therapist this week. It probably should be addressed because the urge was STRONG.

I need to master my own emotions because Tiny’s emotions will need all the focus in these situations as they arise and she becomes aware of them. I love children – kids are my career and my home life because I love kids so much – but good goddamn they can be mean. Usually it’s the ones with issues at home who are so brutal, though that hardly helps the bullied kid feel that much better. I need to be strong for Tiny, let her know I’m angry on her behalf but not act out of anger. Let her know I’m sad that she’s sad and that it’s ok to be sad. And I need to strategize for how to deal with each bully as s/he arises, through teachers and parents and school administration as needed.

Tiny is a very feisty kid. She has no idea there’s anything wrong with her and it shows in her confidence. She has the courage to sass back at Kiddo when Kiddo is trying to control her. She knows she’s smart and pretty and can climb whatever she has the nerve to tackle. I’ll do everything in my power to encourage that confidence, helping her participate in any activities she wants to try (and is medically cleared for). That amazing confidence is what will help her deal with the bullying that will surely come her way.

But I need to not beat up the kids who bully her. Heh. I’ll work on that instinct. I promise.

Terrifically Tiny

I love our Tiny. Everybody knows that. But let me brag about her for a bit.

She’s an amazing kid. She’s freaking brilliant (yes I’m biased but I’m really not exaggerating) and mature beyond age 3. Her therapist is continually amazed at her acuity and ability to identify what she’s feeling (“I have 14 year olds who can’t do that!”). She is a peacekeeper at daycare and will break up fights between kids over a toy by bringing another similar toy to them.

She’s such a sensitive little human. On a recent walk in the woods, she worried that a tree missing a spot of bark needed a bandaid, and gently talked to a tree with a broken branch telling it it would be okay.

She’s also tough as nails and thinks she’s invincible and therefore she kind of is. She has a form of dwarfism (hence being literally tiny) and knees that don’t work quite right but is absolutely undeterred. She likes the big kid playgrounds – the scarier the slide the better! She climbs things like a little squirrel. A ladder with rungs that come to her waist? No problem! Enormously steep stairs? Doesn’t hesitate. She’s got exactly the right chemistry to adapt and thrive in life as a Little Person.

Given all that, I should have known Tiny would be good with a baby. And lordie, she’s fantastic. She’s sensitive (“Mommy! Baby’s crying! She needs help!”) and sweet and tender. Calls her “My baby.” Strokes her hair when she’s upset, hugs and kisses her, shares toys, and talks nonstop about her baby.

Giving baby back her pacifier after she dropped it.

Tiny has needed a few extra snuggles herself. She asked to “help put baby to bed” (she did, too – helped with diaper and bottle and even stroked her head while I rocked baby) then asked for me to “Rock me to sleep too Mommy,” which of course I did. I’m trying hard to be sure to dole out kisses and hugs equally to both kids. And I am of course exclaiming constantly about how amazing and wonderful Tiny is being as a big sister.

But honestly? I’m floored. How can any kid be so GENEROUS with her parents? Have we had a few moments of jealousy? Sure. A couple. Did they resolve quickly? Yep. And Tiny went right back to loving on “her baby.”

Kiddo’s comment about a new baby? “She’d better not be in MY old room!” 😂 Oh, Kiddo. True to form. I have expected that exact comment from her. She’ll be ok with a baby because a baby doesn’t challenge her authority as Top Kid in the House. She’ll be a little jealous but has experienced enough other babies coming into our home to know she’s not being replaced, and Kiddo will surreptitiously play with the baby when no one’s looking.

It’s 5:30 am. Baby woke me up at 4:45 wanting a bottle and I couldn’t go back to sleep so I got up and made coffee and wrote because I can’t contain my awe at remarkable Tiny’s kindness, gentleness, sweetness, and helpfulness. People tell us how good we are to do foster care and take care of other people’s kids, but really WE are the lucky ones. What a joy, what a gift to be able to know and love on sweet Tiny.

That Sweet Baby Smell

The day after I wrote about longing for a third kid to be placed with us? We got the call we could say yes to! Was it for a child within our age range? Not even a little bit. Was it a kid with medical issues? Nope – thankfully she’s healthy. Did we say yes anyway? Yes we did.

Baby still needs a Facebook and blog moniker, but that will come as we get to know her better.

Check out those delicious rolls of baby fat!

Of course the timing stinks. I have a very important hearing today at which I will represent three kids who deserve me at my lawyer best. And with a new placement daycare isn’t an option until we’ve gotten her cleared by the doctor and gotten her vaccine records. I can’t take her to the doctor today because of the hearing and Seth is working and I needed child care all of a sudden.

And our amazing network of support came through like always. Our next door neighbors rock – we’ve adored them ever since they moved in years ago. We dog and cat and fish sit for them whenever they go out of town, and they have babysat for us when we were in a bind before. And god bless them, they’re taking baby this afternoon so I can do my hearing!

Then Monday I have to find someone to cover a court appearance for me. I’m sure I’ll find someone. I hope. So then I can take babe to the doctor so she can start at our amazing daycare! The daycare provider loooooooves Tiny and told us she’d take any kid we bring her. She’s taking an 8 month old with practically no notice. That’s freaking amazing. Most places can’t take little ones and it’s HARD to find good daycare but hot diggety, we sure found it!

It takes a village folks. And we have a village. I get teary thinking about how amazing our support network is.

So why did we say yes to an infant when we were looking for an elementary school age child? 1) my bleeding heart, 2) baby smell, 3) I sweet talked Seth into agreeing to it. #3 was not easy. I begged. He ultimately wanted to know if I was saying yes just because I desperately wanted a third child or if I was saying yes because I felt in my gut like this was the right one to say yes to. That was a hard question to answer but ultimately I decided it was the latter. She’s not a medical case, she’s not elementary school age. We are in diaper land for a long time to come again. Tiny is jealous. But I felt like this baby was meant to come here. So Seth said yes and I called the county back and said yes and here we are!

Baby is a sweet creature. She’s good natured so far. And sweet baby Jesus, she sleeeeeeps. She woke up at midnight and fussed for a minute and went back to sleep. She woke at 5 for a bottle and went back to sleep and is still sleeping. Say a prayer this is a trend and she turns out to be a baby who likes to sleep through the night on the regular!

So that’s our update! Wish me lots of luck juggling infant and toddler and work today. I need it! And wish us luck that Kiddo decides not to be super jealous of the baby, too.

Waiting

We are officially open for a new placement, and are waiting for the right fit to come along.

What does that mean?

I’ve said in a previous post that we are looking for a girl ages 4-7. A girl in that age range with medical problems (husband = nurse) would be our ideal situation. Do I think that child is actually going to drop into our laps? No, no I do not.

How does this process of getting a child placed with you work, you might ask? For starters, it varies from agency to agency.

Private versus County:

We are with a county rather than a private agency which means we are likely to get more calls. It’s expensive to place kids with private agencies and that typically (around here anyway) only happens when a child can’t be placed in a regular county certified foster home for some reason. They could have severe behavioral issues that require a therapeutic level foster home (a therapeutic foster home is one with extensive training in handling behavioral issues) and the county’s therapeutic homes might be full. It sometimes means a child comes with a set of siblings the county wants to keep together and no county foster homes are available who can take them all. A child could have really severe developmental delays and need specialized care that isn’t available in a county foster home. Etc. There are lots of reasons kids might be hard to place in a county home and end up with a private agency.

Seth and I have contemplated switching to a particular private agency any number of times. There’s a local agency we really, really like and respect. Private agencies typically come with extra supports and more money for the daily stipend. But being with a private agency means a couple of things that we don’t like: 1) likely only getting kids with significant behavioral issues, and 2) longer waits for placements. So the upshot is we have stayed with the county for almost 6 years now.

County calls:

When we have an open bed and are looking for a new placement we call the amazing woman who does placements for our county. We love her. She’s good at her job, works insanely hard for the kids, tries hard to come up with good matches between kids and foster parents, and takes “no” graciously. The latter is important because there are a lot of “nos” before we say yes.

I’m not sure all foster parents are as picky as we are but we want kids who will be a good match for us. We do not ever want situations where we need to disrupt a placement because we don’t match well with the child. We had that happen on our very first placement; Kiddo was placed with us with her older brother and we could not keep him safe and he had to be removed from our home after just 18 days with us. It was traumatic for absolutely everyone involved and we want to avoid that happening.

So when the placement woman calls with a 13 year old with developmental delays and a newborn baby? We say no because we don’t have that much bandwidth. Not with two other high needs kids in our lives and both of us working full time.

And when she calls with a little boy with a broken arm and other signs of abuse? We say no because we really need a girl because of a potential shared bedroom situation. Right now Kiddo is in with Tiny but that may need to be swapped when we get a new kid. I want to be sure we can meet Kiddo’s needs for privacy as she gets older and hits puberty and that may mean getting her old room back and not sharing.

And when the county calls us with a 14 year old who was already adopted and removed from her adoptive home because of sexual abuse? I cry for the kid. Legit I burst into tears for her situation. And still said no because we need a child young enough to go to daycare still.

And when the county called with a newborn straight from the hospital? My heart strings twanged so hard it hurt. But I said no because I don’t want to be divorced. My husband is the one who always, always, always gets up with crying infants at night. I sleep right through it. And he has said no infants because of his crazy early mornings as a nurse at a hospital. So I respected his decision (plus our couch is wicked uncomfortable to sleep on and I’d have been exiled to it 😂).

So we have had lots of calls – those are not all of them. But it gives you an idea of what kinds of calls we have been getting and why we have said no to those calls so far. Would we take a 2 year old rather than a 4 year old? Quite likely. Would we take a 9 year old? Quite likely not. Kiddo needs no rivals and that would go badly. I think on my feet when I get the calls from the county and have to make a quick decision about whether a child could work for us.

We’ve got a difficult set of criteria right now because we only are open for one child. The reason for that is two-fold: 1) the small bedroom is set up for only one kid right now (though we could change that with bunk beds) and 2) our vehicle only seats one more person. A bigger vehicle with third row seating is on my to-do list, not necessarily so we can take more kids but really to reduce the amount of “Moooom, she’s touching me!” that currently happens. But it’ll be a while before we can fit a new vehicle into our anemic budget so we really can only take one child at a time. And that is rare in foster care for kids in our age range. Usually sibling sets come into care and need to be placed together if at all possible.

So we wait. Seth waits patiently. He’s fine with the two kids we have. I’m the kid addict who desperately wants a third. So I wait impatiently as all get out. I am restless and excited and nervous and worried about the poor kid who is going to get removed from the home she knows and the parent(s) she loves to come to us. I keep my phone on and near me and jump with excitement when I see the caller ID I’m looking for. And then crash with disappointment and sadness when it’s a child we can’t take.

Being married to me is being married to a rollercoaster. God bless my endlessly patient husband.

Adventures in Legoland

Being the slightly nutty person that I am, I took Kiddo and Tiny for a two-day adventure to Legoland NY without Seth. (My poor beleaguered husband is a brand new nurse still in his training period in labor and delivery, and doesn’t get vacation time for a while yet).

It was a brightly colored blast!

We started off with a three hour plus drive down there, in pouring rain (thanks Fred). The kids were bouncing off the walls, while I was just delighted to have gotten out of the house before 8 am. I had purchased some car entertainment like scratch off coloring books and rubbery stretchy super heroes, which I doled out gradually across the three hours. Two pee breaks and a stop for food later and we arrived!

There were rides and playgrounds and restaurants and face painting and shops and lego building stations everywhere.

It was all brightly colored and super creative and well done.

Tiny getting her face painted while the big kids went on a roller coaster.

There are models all over the place that kids can take photos with and climb on.

The gift shop rocked. Every lego set available was for sale in the shop, plus things like foam lego swords, which turned out to be a massive hit. Pardon the pun.

The lines were long on a Wednesday – I can’t imagine what it’s like on a weekend.

The best part of the trip though? Yawa!

We met up with my friend from college and her two boys at Legoland. I have not seen Yawa in person in 25 years! Hot diggety. That’s a long time. She’s one of the three women I chat with daily in my life-giving group messenger chat though, so it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, but it has! And in that time, Yawa has produced two lovely and wonderful teen boys, E and A, who were an absolute joy to get to know.

Kiddo immediately went into Annoying Little Sister Mode with E, who is 15, and who is endlessly patient and tolerant. He took her on rides and waited in long lines with her, took pictures of her every time she said “take my picture,” and didn’t throttle her when she got him wet at one of the rides that involves pirates and boats.

Tiny was the most fun though, because at 3 she was pure wide-eyed wonder about everything. Bright colors and fun characters cover the landscape, and she was into all of it. Kiddo thought the incredible recreations of famous buildings out of Legos were boring, but not Tiny. Tiny wanted to explore it all.

And as usual, Tiny stole hearts. Yawa and E and A all adore her, and carried her around (she had a perfectly good stroller to ride in but apparently arms are better) and took her on playgrounds and rides. She drank it in. In fact, she loved the people dressed as mini figs so much she got teary when she finally got to hug one!

The only downside to the trip was the hotel service. At 4:30 on the first day, my two started saying they wanted to go to the hotel. We were all a bit beat from the blazing sun and tons of walking and stimulation, so I wholeheartedly agreed with their idea. Only problem was, when we got over to the Legoland hotel, for which I had paid a small FORTUNE (💲💲💲) our room wasn’t ready yet. Checkin time was 4:00. It was about 5:00. And if you want to get technical, I had checked in electronically that morning before we had even gotten to Legoland. We were told there were issues with housekeeping not having the rooms ready yet and there was nothing staff could do.

So in great irritation I went and sat on a bench and tried to corral my tired and cranky kids. Time passed. I watched more and more families try to check in and get the same message I had. Kids started melting down left and right as it got later and later. I had words with staff. Other people got nasty with staff and got passed off to the manager of the hotel who miraculously found them rooms. I started to get really pissed that the way to get a room was to get out of line and downright rude. Adult tantrums don’t look good on anyone but they were getting rewarded. I started calling other area hotels and found they were all booked solid. Finally I pleaded with a staff member and got into the manager’s office myself, and got a room assigned. Magically they had one for us when I got in there. At 7:30 at night.

They didn’t comp us in any way. No free meal in the restaurant (in fact, they refused to seat us in the restaurant while we waited), no discount, not even a coupon for a discounted future stay. Nada.

The room was very cool. Not cool enough to make up for the 3 hours of torture waiting while children screamed and melted down all around us, and I told Tiny to stop lying on the crumb-covered floor 1,057 times.

The next morning the kids woke early and we scooted down to breakfast right at 7 when the hotel buffet opened. By the time we left the hotel at 9:30, the breakfast line was so long it was absolutely absurd. So the hotel didn’t exactly figure out all its issues overnight.

In sum: go to Legoland! It’s clean and fun as can be. The 15 year old had fun and the 3 year old had fun and everyone in between. Go during the week – weekends have got to be way too crowded. Bring an old friend you haven’t seen in way too long. And stay at the Courtyard or Hampton Inn a few miles away and skip the Lego hotel debacle. The rooms are not so cool that they make up for all the terrible service.

Tiny singing an ode to her trusty sword, strumming it like a guitar.

Haircuts when they aren’t your kids

One of the many many challenges of being a foster parent is navigating the rules surrounding haircuts for kids in your care.

For the most part, we have steered clear of doing it. It used to be that you really couldn’t even do a trim without getting the permission of the first parents (aka “bio” or “birth” parents). Now there is a rule in our state called “prudent parenting” that allows foster parents to treat their foster kids as if they were their own children, within reason. We’ve been told that trims are now allowed so long as you don’t do any kind of massive style change for a child. It still gets sticky though. I don’t want to offend a first parent by usurping their rights!

We had one little boy, Gronckle, who needed regular trims because his hair grew at an astonishing rate, and he couldn’t see beneath his mop of curls. But we kept it long-ish and curly so we weren’t taking away the curls from his Mom.

We once cut Kiddo’s hair several inches, but it was with her Dad’s permission and blessing, and she was no longer in foster care at the time.

For the most part, we have steered clear of haircuts for kids in our care. We’ve braided Black girls’ hair, and maintained Black boys’ curls, and let white girls’ hair get wispy as it grew. Piggy tails and hair sprouts have been our go-to for managing wisps that get in kids’ eyes.

Piggy tails flappy in the wake of the super hero’s breeze.

I just caved on Tiny though. Her silky black hair was getting all unruly, and its magic was getting lost because of the way it was growing out. Her head was kept shaved by her first family until she turned two when she came to us, so we had a year of untrimmed growth getting shaggier by the day.

This isn’t a fair “before” pic because she still had bed head in it, but you can get the gist.

Here’s the “after” pic. Ready for pre-k!

I’m praying her Mama doesn’t have an absolute fit. We cut a fair bit off in the back. I think it looks soul shatteringly adorable but I can only pray her Mama agrees!

The subject of haircuts is becoming a sore one in our house when it comes to Kiddo. When wet, her hair is all the way to the small of her back. Her curls are positively glorious.

But. Each week when she comes over, we painstakingly detangle it, condition it, put products in it, and style it. Each week when she goes home, no one detangles it for the entirety of the week. We have had instances where it is starting to mat from lack of detangling. It’s not from lack of knowledge, it’s just from lack of effort. I know her Mom is juggling so so much. She’s in school full time working on her Bachelors degree, and she’s working full time, and parenting two tough kids and maintaining a household. I get it. I really do. I know too that Kiddo is a pain about detangling her hair and she complains the entire time, plus it’s kind of boring and frustrating, so I understand the disinclination to do it.

It does have to be done though. It’s part of teaching her to be proud of being a biracial/Black kid. Her mom loves it as long as possible though, and won’t give permission for anything more than the tiniest of trims. I’m so frustrated that the responsibility for keeping it maintained is fully ours, and yet we can’t give it a nice healthy trim to make detangling a little less onerous and get it closer to a length where Kiddo could do some of the maintenance herself.

We will at least manage that tiny trim that her mom will allow. We need to find the right Black salon for her. I’d love to give her the experience of professional braiding too. One of these days!

Love is My Gift

It’s 4:30 in the morning and I’m wiiiiide awake. I usually wake up between 5:30 and 6:30 but 4:30 is a surprise this morning. I went to bed at 7:30 as usual. So the fact that I’m wide awake this early I take to be a good sign. That, plus I can go up and down a flight of stairs without pain or getting winded at the moment, so I think my flare up of *whatever* the hell is wrong with me is dying down of its own accord. Too early to cheer but Dude. I’ll take it!

The room that belonged first to Kiddo then Miss Kicks is almost ready for a new kid. It just needs a good vacuuming and floor washing. The bed looks welcoming, the desk is now clean and ready for school work. It could use a real dresser – the one we have in there is a bit anemic. I’d like to claim it myself and put a real dresser in there but that doesn’t have to be done before we take a new kid.

And contrary to everyone’s advice, logic, and my own best interests, we are officially open for a new kid. Girls only, in case we wind up rearranging bedrooms and a new kid has to share with Tiny. Plus our decor is for girls. Plus we just have girls down to an art form. A boy would feel foreign to us right now!

I can’t really explain to people why we are open for another kid already before we have my new meds figured out, but my heart is just longing for it. We have the space. We have the love. I always find the stamina somewhere.

I have a trio of good friends from college with whom I am in touch daily through a life-giving messenger chat that we started up when Miss Kicks came to us. We re-bonded over raising teens and now they’re just my peeps and I can barely remember life before this group chat started. I refer to them as “The Girls.” That group chat gives me life. I’m telling you. They make me howl with laughter, build me up, support me, make me feel cherished. They’re Da Bomb.

Anywho, I told The Girls the other day that I think of Buffy the Vampire Slayer a lot when it comes to why I do foster care. In season 5, in an episode called “Intervention,” Buffy consults with the first Slayer, who tells Buffy “death is your gift.”

I think “love” is my gift.

I don’t care what it costs me, I have love to give to kids. We have space. We always find the money somewhere. And I find the energy somewhere, too. I can’t stand hanging onto that spare love in my heart and not directing it somewhere useful.

So I called our homefinder (a social worker who represents and manages foster parents, rather than representing kids) the other day. I said girls only, 11 and under. No more teens. And ideally? We’d like a kid with medical issues (we can handle them because Seth is a nurse and we have a great rapport with the medical team for foster kids in our county) between 4 and 7.

Who knows who it’ll be when the call comes. It may be a while because kids usually come in sibling groups and we can only take one kid because that room is tiny and we only have one seat available in our cars right now. Getting a vehicle with third row seating is on our agenda but not in our budget yet. But somehow just knowing it could happen at any time makes me feel, well, like things are the way they’re supposed to be.

It made a difference to this one

It’s back! My Tiffany’s starfish necklace is home again after being repaired by Tiffany & Co.

If you remember, Miss Kicks tried to steal it, and when she got caught with it around her neck she yanked it off and broke both chain and clasp. $500+ later (Seth’s face was a treat when he saw the bill – it’s Tiffany’s what can I say?) it has a new Tiffany’s chain, and it’s a better length for me. It was a little too short before.

I’m tickled to have it back. My work and my home life are all lived according to the principle of “just focus and make a difference for the kid in front of you, and it makes a difference in the world.” It’s kind of like the starfish story, so it’s especially meaningful to have the necklace back.

It’s also closure somehow. Miss Kicks’s case worker will come to collect her belongings tomorrow and that will be good for us too. More closure.

The final piece will be donating Miss Kicks’s prom dress, accessories, and shoes to the school district’s prom dress closet so it can be enjoyed by another kid who can’t afford a prom dress.

Then all we’ll have left is photos and memories that are solidly bitter sweet.

Moving On

Miss Kicks is still AWOL and the police are still looking for her, much to her dismay. Until yesterday we had ongoing contact with her on Messenger, but her messages have been getting increasingly nasty and antagonistic. She’s not giving away where she is, and all that was coming out of the continued connection was frustration and anger on my part, so I blocked her on all 4 of her FB accounts. I looked up how to block her on Snapchat (I’m old, humor me) and did that too.

I feel embarrassed and guilty for being angry at a hurting kid. But good goddamn. She has the knack of getting under my skin when she wants to. The child can be mean when she wants to drive people away. Alas, I am not the bigger person who can continue to be a resource for her. I’ve had my fill of hurting teenage anger for now.

So, we move on. We are currently purging her room of her belongings so her case worker can come get them next week. We are finding lots of stuff she sticky fingered and are reclaiming it. It feels awful but satisfying at the same time.

The chaos left in her wake. Or at least the part of the chaos that was in her room.

Honestly it’s a strange sensation. I’ve packed up kids plenty of times before – technically at least once for each of the 12 kids who have left our care, and I did it twice for Kiddo because of a snafu in the courts that made us think she was going home months before she actually did. It’s always been some combination of bitter and sweet before (ok, with Gronckle it was purely bitter but usually it’s a combo). It’s never felt like performing an exorcism on the house before. But that’s kind of how it feels.

I can’t wait until her things are gone and the room is set up and waiting for a new kiddo to come as soon as my health will support adding more chaos to our lives.

I feel like I sound bitter and jaded and I suppose in some ways I am feeling that right now. Miss Kicks had an amazing opportunity in our family and turned it down for the streets. But it’s not really her fault per se. It was her decision, but what does a mixed up 16 year old who has experienced a lifetime of trauma have for perspective on the world? She’s been trying so hard in her messages to hurt me, and she’s succeeded, but my hurts will fade. If anything she’s gotten me to feel less sadness about the whole thing and more resolve. I’m more certain than ever that she can’t come back to us. I’m not sure what her future holds but I pray it holds safety and some happiness somewhere along the way.

I am excited to move on and open for another child hopefully before too long. I never want kids to have to be in foster care, but I confess to enjoying the process of meeting and getting to know each new human who enters our lives through foster care. Whether it ends well or badly or somewhere in between, the kids are, ultimately, worth all they cost us emotionally. Even Miss Kicks.

And until we open for another kid, we continue to enjoy Tiny full time and Kiddo on weekends. Tiny is starting violin lessons in August! Her new violin teacher was incredulous when I told her Tiny can count to 12 and sing the ABCs and she just turned 3 in May. That seems… normal to me. Apparently the ability to count and know the order of the letters A-G is crucial for starting a kid as young as Tiny on an instrument (which even in size 1/16 is going to be almost as big as she is). I’m hoping Tiny will surprise the teacher with her focus and drive, too. She’s an amazing kid.

I have a fun trip planned to Legoland in August too, where we will meet up with a dear friend from College and her two boys for a couple of days of magical fun.

Both Kiddo and Tiny are thriving and growing and the source of tremendous joy and love. I’m so grateful I’ve been blessed with this time with them. Someday maybe I’ll feel gratitude for having had the fun of meeting Miss Kicks, too, after the scars fade.

The World Came Tumbling Down

Sometimes things go as planned in foster care. Once in a great while, something that has been expected comes to pass. Most of the time though, things will be trucking along looking like they’re headed one way, then everything goes pear shaped.

As it did with us and Miss Kicks.

She started going AWOL in June, and then started acting out in pretty spectacular fashion. She ran for the third time in July on the day she became legally freed for us to adopt her. She’s still AWOL and won’t tell anyone where she is, though I talked with her briefly today and she swears she’s somewhere safe.

This is her pattern. It’s what she does in foster homes. There’s a golden period, then she explodes into a flurry of bad behavior and running away and blows up the placement. We thought she’d be past that pattern because it had been more than 3 years since she’d done it because she’d been in a residential facility during that time. We figured she’d have matured past that point. It’s such a common behavior pattern for kids – especially teens – in foster care.

But, she hadn’t matured past it and waltzed through her typical pattern before our eyes, helpless to stop it. We are made of tough fiber and figured we could endure all her attempts to get us to kick her out. But it turns out even we have limits.

She’s not welcome back in our home. For Seth it was the drugs and drug paraphernalia being left where the little kids could have accessed it. For me it was that primarily, plus trying to steal my gold Tiffany’s starfish necklace, getting caught with it, ripping it off her neck to give it back, and then its costing me more than the beloved thing cost originally to get it repaired by Tiffany’s.

It’s funny what gets under one’s skin. I find it’s seldom what one expects.

We have gotten used to interactions with the police because of Miss Kicks. I have to say our encounters have been very professional and positive, with NYS Troopers and our Village police having endless patience with Kiddo’s questions (“Is that a REAL GUN?!?”) and our wayward teen.

Am I heartbroken? Yes and no. I’m still pretty numb. It’s only been a little over a week since the wheels came off. And I’m fairly angry with some of the shit she’s said to me. I’m angry with her for ruining her future. For ruining so many opportunities. For wasting taxpayer resources. For hurting the littler girls. For hurting Seth. For taking advantage of and using us.

Is my anger reasonable? No of course not – she’s a mixed up broken kid. But my therapist tells me anger is a warning sign that someone is hurting us so we should put up our guard to protect ourselves. And that’s what we are having to do. Mostly we are having to protect the littler girls. But even if we had no other kids I don’t think we could take her back even if we wanted to because she wouldn’t stay. The bottom line is that a stable loving family is deeply uncomfortable for someone who has never known one before.

It’s all so predictable but no less tragic because of it.

She tells me her primary goal in life right now is to get pregnant and have a baby so someone will love her unconditionally. She may try to live off benefits after having a baby but is going to find it hard to support her lifestyle that way. I doubt she’ll be able to keep custody of a child but perhaps she’ll surprise us all and stop the cycle. I doubt it. But I guess I have been surprised before.

For now, I’ll keep trying to ferret out where she is when she contacts me, and I’ll clean out her room and prepare it for another kid.

Not a teenager though. Never again a teen. Their problems are so much messier than those of the littler kids. Seth and I have decided to stick to girls since we are already inundated with them (two girl human children, three girl cats, and a girl guinea pig) and feel more adept at girls than boys. And in an ideal world we’d accept a kid between 4 and 7 – between Tiny’s and Kiddo’s ages. Old enough to wipe their own butt, young enough not to be using drugs yet.

We’ll see though. We’ve been surprised by who we’ve taken in before. First though, a little break while I work out some of my health issues, and we enjoy the two lovely hellions we already have beautifying our lives.